"You know, you've always been so good at pretending. Pretending to be the victim, pretending to be perfect, pretending to be loved."
"Pretending? You mean like you pretending to care? Pretending you didn't sleep with my fiancé behind my back?"
Lauren's smile widened. "Mike loved me," her tone was low and venomous. "He always did. He just didn't know how to say it to you."
Heather's breath hitched. "You ruined everything," she said, her voice trembling. "Not just with Mike, but with this family, with all of us. You can't stand not being the center of attention."
"And you can't stand the truth, can you? That no matter how hard you try, you'll always be second best. To me. To him. To everyone."
Heather stood frozen. The words hit hard, too close to some truths she had tried to ignore.
"You're supposed to turn around " Lauren snapped her from her thoughts.
Right. She had been so lost in her thoughts she forgot she's supposed to back Lauren. The cliff scene.
Heather stood at the edge of the artificial cliff, her gaze fixed on the height below. The artificial cliff edge was just over the soundstage, its fake rocks painted to mimic the drop Heather's character would narrowly escape. Crew members stood below, adjusting harnesses and cameras, while Heather stood motionless at her mark, the strap of her safety rig digging into her ribs.
The fan blew against her skin, also to mimic real wind. And the bright lights of the set seemed dim compared to the memories screaming inside her head. The fall they were rehearsing for wasn't just another stunt, it was her past staring her down, daring her to face it. She could almost hear the voice of her then self crying as she tumbled down the stairs years ago, the pain still fresh in her mind despite the time that had passed.
Lauren stepped into place beside her. Heather glanced at her. There was a familiarity in Lauren's presence, a reminder of all the ways she had shaped Heather's life. Lauren's expression was calm, almost too calm, as though she knew exactly what buttons she was about to push.
Heather shifted her weight, her pulse fastened. The script had given Lauren lines that sounded cruel, pointed, but Heather knew the malice in Lauren's voice didn't come from rehearsals, it came from years of resentment.
"Action!"
The camera's rolled. Lauren felt closer but she was a few steps away. Heather moved forward, her eyes dizzy from looking at the drop. Suddenly, she was on the stairs. The memory felt so real and she could hear Lauren's footsteps getting closer. Running. Just like that day.
"CUT! CUT!"
Her voice echoed across the set, drawing everyone's attention. She couldn't do this. The director's face swam into view, equal parts baffled and irritated. "What the hell, Heather? The script says she pushes you. Not 'Cut!'"
"I... I'm not doing this scene."
"You're Miss H's star! You're supposed to do this scene."
"I can't do this scene." She pulled her right hand closer to herself cause it was shaking and she didn't want anyone notice.
The director frowned, stepping forward. "Miss Heather," he said, his tone firm but calm. "What is the real problem here?"
Heather stared at him, her chest tightening. The real problem wasn't the scene. The real problem was her past. "I'm scared of heights," she admitted quietly.
The director blinked, taken aback. "I don't understand," he said. "You acted in Fly so splendidly, and you didn't seem to have an issue with it."
Fly. Her debut film, her first leap into stardom. A girl with a dream, the kind of story that was relatable with the public. Miss H won numerous awards for that movie. And is still given praises till today. But no one knew Miss H was Heather herself. Only Penny and her agency know. But Heather wasn't thinking about that. She was thinking about how different she felt back then, how she had been able to push herself past the fear in a way she couldn't now.
"One more time, and if you aren't feeling up for it, we can use a stunt double." His voice was softer.
Heather nodded.
"Places!" the director called, his voice muffled by the megaphone.
Heather tightened her grip on the prop locket around her neck, a token from the film's fictional sisterly bond. Lauren glided to her mark. Heather stood at the edge again. She was still shaking from the trauma and now she had to redo the scene, with Lauren preparing to push her again.
"Cut!" she yelled before Lauren could even move. But it felt like Lauren was behind her. She turned around to the set of eyes on her. "Sorry," she whispered, taking a deep breath.
She could see the frustration on the faces of everyone, including the director, who was pinching the bridge of his nose.
Lauren stepped closer to her. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Do you think it'll hurt this time?"
Heather turned abruptly. That wasn't in the script. She stared at Lauren for a moment, but the directors voice brought her to composure.
"From the top."
Heather turned, before she could take another step, Lauren shoved her.
Heather let out a piercing scream as she tumbled backward, the rope tied around her waist snapping taut. The force of the fall jolted through her body, and for a moment, all she could see was the memory of the stairs, the sharp edges, the blur of movement, the sound of her own cries. Shock spread through her body, the sensation pulled her out of her thoughts and into the harsh reality of her surroundings. Her chest heaved as panic overtook her, her hands clawing at the air as if it could save her.
"Cut her loose!" someone shouted, but Heather could barely hear them. The pain was real, even though she hadn't hit the ground this time. The fall was over, but her body wouldn't stop shaking. Her breaths came in shallow, rapid gasps, her mind trapped in the memory of what had happened years ago.
When they finally lowered her and cut the harness, she collapsed onto her knees, her hands trembling uncontrollably. She wasn't ready. She didn't know. She was taken unaware. Lauren pushed her.
"Heather, are you okay?"