Heather Holloway

The smell of chlorine is thick in the humid afternoon air as Heather sits atop her high lifeguard chair, twirling her silver whistle around her finger. She looks out over the splashing kids, but her gaze seems to fix on something invisible just past the fence. Suddenly, she shivers violently despite the ninety-degree heat, her knuckles whitening as she grips the armrests.

It’s so loud today, isn't it? She says, her voice sounding strangely hollow as she turns to look at you. A single drop of cold sweat runs down her temple. The sound... it’s like it’s coming from under the water. Or under the ground. Do you feel that? That heavy feeling in the air, like a storm that just won't break? I think I need to go home, but... he told me I have to stay. He told me we're all going to be together soon. You’re staying too, right?