Heather looked up at her sister, her eyes blazing. She didn't need to say anything, Lauren knew. Knew what she had done. Knew she deserved what was coming. For a moment, all Heather could hear, was the sound of her heart beat. She stood up slowly, her hands clutched to her chest as if she was trying to calm herself.
Heather stepped closer to Lauren. "Why did you push me?"
"Cause that's the scene. Oh my, you're such a toddler." Her eyes glanced around to everyone staring at her, then she realized she was out of character. "I am deeply sorry... but it's acting." She tucked her hair behind her ear.
Lauren had never been remorseful for anything she did to anyone, even when she's at wrong. Even though she was able to fool the crew, she couldn't fool someone who knew her more than she knew herself. Someone she grew up with. Someone who knew how she behaved when she was being manipulative and dishonest. Tucking her hair behind her ear was her outer.
When the crew began to walk away, she leaned closer to Heather. "Do you think the baby's still alive? I'm not sure."
Heather's hand moved before she could think, the sound of the slap echoed across the set. Lauren's head jerked to the side, her face stinging with the force of it.
There were murmurs from the crew. Whispers spread across the room like wildfire. All eyes on her and Lauren. Heather turned to the onlookers, her expression calm and detached.
"It's acting," she said simply.
The director clapped. "That," he said, grinning, "was incredible. Heather, that was raw. Phenomenal."
Heather didn't react. Her gaze remained locked on Lauren's. She felt the urge to slap the other cheek. It was only right Lauren had to turn the other cheek. But Lauren didn't argue or retaliate. She simply nodded, acknowledging the slap as something she had earned.
"We've hit a bit of a snag," the director said, fiddling with the edge of his glasses. "The camera didn't catch all the moments of the fall. Nixon was too stunned by the acting he forgot to turn on the camera. Can you imagine that?" He chuckled nervously.
"So, we're redoing the scene, then?" Lauren asked, turning to Heather as if gauging her reaction.
"Yes, that's… exactly what we're doing," he confirmed, clearing his throat. His gaze danced everywhere but toward Heather, as though meeting her eyes might be the end of him. "Uh, well, that's all. Yep." He awkwardly glanced at his wrist as if checking the time, though he wasn't wearing a watch.
If looks could kill, there'd be no more direction coming from him.
"Get a stunt double, I'm done."
"No, no, Heather." His tone softened. "You see, a stunt double wouldn't be able express the scene with so much emotional depth, like you. It was more like you were the character and that's a real challenge for most people." The director describe with so much fascination and impression.
There was a long silence between them.
"I need a break."
"Take your time."
Heather started walking to her trailer.
"Thirty minutes is what I mean." He projected his voice to her hearing.
She entered her trailer and shut the door behind her, collapsing onto the small couch as her hands trembled. Her reflection stared back at her from the mirror across the room. The director wanted her to repeat a scene she barely managed to act. It's funny, cause he thought she was acting, but really was dying. Even though she didn't lose Alex that day, the pain from the fall never left her. The physical pain did leave, but the emotional scars were eternal.
She had seen countless therapists, tried to pour her emotions into words, but none of them understood. How could they? They never had a life like hers. No one had. There is a thin line between listening and get a first hand experience of something. It's only so far empathy can go.
Her stepmother had been the root of so much of it. Evelyn was the kind of woman who made Heather believe every stepmother was a witch. And was everything a witch could be. She had painted Heather's world with cruelty, manipulation, and bitterness. It wasn't until Heather met Penny's stepmother, a kind, nurturing woman who took Penny as if she were her own, that she realized not all stepmothers were evil. But even then, the damage was done.
Heather and her thoughts sat in silence. Biting her nail as frustration bubbled in her chest. How was she supposed to handle this scene? She wasn't sure she could go through it without saying "cut" every five seconds.
There was a knock on her trailer. "We need you."
It was barely thirty minutes and the director was already calling for her. She wasn't sure she could go back there and be pushed again. Heather picked up her phone.
She went back on set. She took extra three minutes on her call and thought the director would notice. But the director was on the phone. His voice was serious while he gestured toward the crew. Heather watched him closely. She walked towards him, and her make-up artist followed her, arranging her hair. When he hung up, he turned to address the team.
"Change of plans," he announced. "The agency just called. The cliff scene is being removed from the movie."
Heather's lips curved into a subtle smile, but she didn't say anything. Lauren walked over. "Are you ready to be pushed again?" it seemed she didn't hear what the director just said. He wasn't on his megaphone.
Heather didn't respond, didn't even glance her way.
"The new scene will have Lila falling instead," the director added casually.
"So, Lauren is falling instead?" Heather asked, turning to Lauren. Lila is Lauren's character in the movie.
"Who changed it?" Lauren demanded. Her tone was challenging.
The director glanced around. "Miss H," he replied.
The name sent chill through the set. Lauren's face paled. Heather smiled faintly, her satisfaction quiet but undeniable.
"It's a movie about survival. She doesn't want the main character suffering. It gives the audience hope. Genius!"
The crew began to disperse, and Heather felt a weight lift off her chest. Relief coursed through her, though the tension in her muscles hadn't fully released. Today's scene had been brutal, but it was over now. She'd survived it. It did give her hope. Hope that she could rewrite her life, take control of her story and what happens along the way. The world was her movie, and she was going to direct it, to ensure no one hurt her again.
As the set emptied, Heather grabbed her phone. It had been hours since she'd heard anything about Alex, and the absence gnawed at her. She missed him. Pulling out her phone, she went to dial the home cell, hoping the nanny would pick up and let her talk to him. But as she unlocked her phone, she noticed a missed call from her father. Heather's chest tightened.
It's been three days. She hadn't been to see him in days. Between Alex and the relentless pace of filming, she hadn't found the time. It wasn't an excuse, but still, it stung to realize she'd completely forgotten about him. Or maybe she hadn't forgotten but was just avoiding coming in contact with Evelyn. She felt like she didn't expose a potential "crime"? She was certain Evelyn wasn't going to hurt her father or Alex. But it still felt bizarre. Evelyn was a murderer.
She thought back to Evelyn's words, about how her father wanted to give her everything. Was this what the call was about? His estate, the family business, the weight of responsibilities she wasn't sure she wanted? Heather stared at her phone. She had spent years carving her own path. Leaving her career to take on the family business felt like losing herself all over again.
Change of plans. She was going to the hospital.