She stood up, a little unsteady at first, but quickly gaining her equilibrium. She walked to the door as quietly as she could and tried to turn the ornate doorknob. It turned, but the door did not budge, as if it were bolted on the outside.
A sense of helplessness flared up in her, and she bowed her head as tears flowed from her eyes. All this because she had defied her parents, lied and opened herself up to evil.
Slowly she became aware that there was a sound coming from the other side of the door: a light footstep approaching and then the rattling sound of a deadbolt being slid open.
Heather stepped back quickly, her breath quickening as the door silently opened. A small, narrow foot appeared, wearing a black and white canvas shoe. It was immediately followed by its owner, a girl in blue jeans and a black top: Jillian.
She entered the room and swung the door shut behind her, looking at Heather, who could not read her expression. She did not have the mocking expression that she wore earlier in the day, but looked tired and passive as if she felt uncertain about something.
“You woke up, huh?” she asked, her tone somewhat subdued.
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