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“Why are there so many police officers here?” Sarah asks the nearest person to her. She had been walking down the street towards her brother’s school so she could bother him. Elementary school ends faster than high school so she takes advantage of this fact to slip in. However she didn’t expect to turn the corner and see a bunch of cops.
“Oh.” The teenager beside her jumps a bit. “Haven’t you heard? Someone died.”
“What?”
For a brief second, Sarah considers the worst. What if it was her brother? What if she went to visit him only to find out about his death? An icy panic strikes inside her. It can't be, it just can't. Without him, how would she be able to-
“It was some guy who was found dead in his house a few weeks ago,” the teenager continues.
Sarah blinks. Oh. Of course. She saw her brother at his house just a few days ago. What's wrong with her? Why does she always jump the gun so quickly? It's irrational. Even if someone did die today the chances of it being him would be slim.
“Police found the body recently and is like searching the school to make sure it isn't school related or something.”
Sarah glances at the teenager beside her. She didn't ask for this much information but she isn't complaining either. It's good to know and everyone would be dying to gossip about something like this to anyone.
The teen chuckles darkly. “But we all know exactly what that means. This was a murder. And they're trying to find the culprit.”
Sarah watches as an officer with oddly white coloured hair paces back and forth beside a police car with obvious agitation. Sometimes he pulls out his radio and grumbles into it. It doesn't seem like they're getting anywhere.
“Oh but the guy who died, what was his name again? They told us over the PA system.”
At that, Sarah adjusts her backpack. She doesn't really care about that, she just wants to see her brother before they both go home. She takes a step forward.
“Oh, I think it was Cesar?”
Sarah stops cold.
“Don't remember the last name though but I think it started with a T.”
She doesn't move.
“I knew his face but not his name. Well, before today that is. I saw him in the halls sometimes. He was always with Mark Heathcli-”
Sarah whips her whole body around to look at the teen so fast it makes them stop mid sentence.
“What? What's wrong?”
Sarah inhales. “Mark Heathcliff is my brother. And I saw him with Cesar Torres two days ago. This must be a mistake.”
Their mouth drops open. Sarah doesn't wait for them to recover. She lets them watch her in shocked silence as she marches up to the nearest officer.
“Excuse me, sir,” Sarah tugs gently at the sleeve of the officer with the odd hair. She knows she'd probably get reprimanded but once she sets her mind on something, she won't let it go. And she needs answers. Now.
Surprisingly, when the officer sees her, his eyes that were just filled with frustration soften immediately. He crouches down to Sarah's level.
“Hi there kid, are you lost?”
“No, um, I'm here to see my brother but I heard someone died.” She internally cringes at having to act her age but reminds herself that no one she cares about will ever see her like this.
“Oh no, I'm so sorry, this must be so scary. But don't worry, all these police officers are here to keep you safe, okay? What's your name?”
Wow, what a nice person. Maybe Sarah shouldn't manipulate information out of him. "Sarah," she answers quietly.
“Nice to meet you Sarah." The officer pats her on the head. "Why don't you come with me to the office? We can find out what class your brother is in.”
“But I already know what class he's in,” Sarah says but she still lets this police officer hold her hand as they walk into the school.
“Ha, you must really love him, huh? But I'm sorry it will be safer for you to wait in the office. Someone can go fetch him for you when the bell rings.”
Sarah looks down at the ground, face burning. She would have attacked this man for saying that if he wasn't a cop. She shakes her head. There are still answers to dig up.
“Excuse me, mister…”
“Lieutenant Thatcher Davis at your service,” he says, amicably, “But you can just call me Thatcher.”
Like hell she’s going to call an adult by their first name. “Mister Davis, who died?”
Thatcher hesitates for a brief moment, probably trying to come up with the gentlest response as fast as possible without her noticing.
“You don’t need to worry about that, Sarah,” he nudges her onto a chair as they reach the office, “Whoever it is, we will make sure everything will be alright. Now what is your brother’s name?”
Sarah deflates. It would have been a miracle for a police officer to tell a small child the details of a crime anyway. She’ll just have to hound Mark for answers later. There’s no way he kept quiet after the news of his supposedly dead… 'best friend'. “Mark Heathcliff.”
At that, Thatcher’s demeanor seems to shift slightly. Sarah stiffens. Did she say something wrong? She only said her brother’s name.
“I’m sorry but your brother wasn’t at school today,” Thatcher scratches the back of his neck uneasily. “Or the past two weeks actually…”
Sarah blinks. Mark didn’t go to school for two weeks? Also why does Thatcher know that already?
“What? But that doesn’t make sense.”
Thatcher sighs and puts his hand on Sarah’s shoulder again. “I’m sorry about this Sarah, let me take you home. The others can go without me for a few-”
“Cesar Torres,” Sarah blurts out. Thatcher freezes.
“Cesar, my brother Mark’s friend, is the one who died. That’s what I heard. I saw them together two days ago.”
“Sarah, I know this looks bad but we must look at every possible-wait, two days ago?”
“I also heard,” Sarah continues, “That Cesar died a few weeks ago. This must be a mistake right? They probably heard or remembered wrong. Because it doesn’t add up. Right?” The horrible feeling that plagued her for a few days before sneaking off to Mark’s house comes crashing back to her full force. That was around two weeks ago.
Thatcher stares at her, some unreadable expression on his face.
“Mr. Davis,” she pleads.
“But,” Thatcher finally says quietly, “The autopsy said two weeks ago.” He looks somewhere off to the left of Sarah as if he was talking mostly to himself.
Sarah doesn’t know what that word means but she can take an educated guess. It lines up. The timing, the circumstance. An unpleasant sickly feeling curls inside her. She should’ve trusted her gut.
“Alternate,” she whispers.
Thatcher pales. Sarah closes her eyes.
“That was an alternate, not Cesar.” She feels some manic laughter rise in her throat but she swallows it down.
“Sarah… I-we-” Sarah really does appreciate Thatcher desperately trying to comfort her but there’s really nothing he can say, is there? If he trusts her words then there is no other possibility. The evidence is too damning.
Thatcher composes himself surprisingly quickly. “Sarah, if what you say is true then this changes things drastically. This is crucial information so thank you for sharing this with us, you are a huge help on this case. It won’t go unrewarded but first, please let me take you ho-”
“No,” Sarah grits out, “No, take me to Mark. I need to see him.”
The expression on Thatcher’s face is slightly pained. “I’m sorry, but it’s too dangerous.”
“I don’t care,” Sarah says desperately, “I don't care, I need to see him.”
“Sarah-”
“If he didn't come to school for two weeks it means that alternate has been with him for all that time.”
“Sa-”
“Mr. Davis please, take me to him, I need to see that he's okay. I can't-I just-I-” Sarah grips Thatcher’s sleeves. “He's all I have!”
Thatcher closes his eyes and sighs. It sounds defeated. He glances at the office window which had been empty this entire time.
“Alright,” his voice is somber, “But let's be quick about it.”
Sarah jumps up from her seat. “Thank you.”
Thatcher guides her to the car he was standing beside earlier. He looks around before hastily ushering her inside. Sarah tries to hide herself from being visible from the window. He must not want others to know he's doing this. Sarah looks around. She's never been in a police car before.
“Alright, do you know the address?” Thatcher asks as he slams the door shut from the driver's seat.
“No but I know how to get there,” Sarah responds.
“Alright then I'll drive slowly, you can tell me where to go.”
The first half of the car ride is mostly silent except for Sarah's quiet but clear instructions. Thatcher acts more distant than the warm police officer persona he showed Sarah earlier.
"You're smarter than you look, huh?" he suddenly says. It's not really a question, just an observation. Sarah doesn't respond.
"I understand. You know how to use your age to trick nice adults. But it's fine. You just want to see your brother."
Sarah doesn't understand why Thatcher is telling her this. Is he mad?
"Don't worry, Sarah, I know,” Thatcher says, like he could read her mind. “I was just like you." There's a tiredness to his voice. Sarah finally takes a good look at him. She notices that he really is not that old for a police officer.
"Is Cesar really dead?" she asks quietly.
Thatcher doesn't respond for a while. When he finally does, he doesn’t answer her question.
"Your brother was the prime suspect for Cesar's death up until what you said 10 minutes ago. It changes everything."
Sarah sighs. Of course. Cesar dying two weeks ago? Mark stopped going to school two weeks ago? The two of them are seen together all the time? If she was an outsider, she'd suspect Mark too. But she isn't an outsider. She's his sister.
"Goddamnit," Thatcher says, "And I'm taking you straight to where an alternate probably is. What the hell am I-"
"You already said you would," Sarah interrupts. "And I already saw... this alternate two times. We're almost there anyway-oh wait. You were supposed to turn right back there."
Thatcher sighs. "It's okay. I can loop back around."
The rest of the car ride is silent. Thatcher pulls up onto Mark’s driveway and Sarah is out the door as soon as the car is parked.
“Sarah, please wait for me, it would probably be best for me to announce my presence first,” Thatcher says as he tries to follow Sarah as fast as possible. She pauses. It probably would startle Mark if he opened the door to Sarah and an unmentioned police officer. She waits as he catches up to her at the door.
“Sheriff’s department, open up.” Thatcher raps at the door. His sudden tone change almost gives Sarah whiplash. It’s much more assertive and domineering. She guesses this is what it takes to be a police officer. However, there is no answer.
“Police, open the door!” Thatcher yells this time as he knocks the door more aggressively. Sarah would have felt a bit intimidated if not for the unmistakable desperation that was mixed in with the forcefullness. It seems he feels it too. The horrible icy feeling crawling around in their guts, screaming at them to run in the opposite direction and never look back. To get far, far away from this house. But there is something more important right now. Sarah balls her hands into fists.
“Mark! Open the damn door!” Sarah slams her small fist into the door as hard as she can which actually does make a hefty thud. “It’s me! I’m here too! Just come out!”
“Sarah,” Thatcher says gently, “Please move aside.”
Sarah reluctantly relents. She watches as Thatcher kicks down the door. It rattles the windows. He sighs. It doesn't seem like he enjoys doing this. Sarah doesn't linger any longer than she needs to. Her name is called out by Thatcher as she makes a beeline inside but it already sounds hopeless to stop her.
It's strange. Everything is so strange but Sarah just can't describe why. She pauses a bit to look at the living room. There are blankets and pillows strewn messily on the couches. What the hell were they doing? Sarah shakes her head and goes toward where she wanted to since she came. Mark's bedroom.
The closer she gets to Mark's room, the less she wants to run. The horrible feeling that she's suppressed until now feels almost too heavy on her shoulders. She slows down to a trot and finally a complete stop right in front of his door. It's shut tight. For some reason, Sarah does not want to see what is on the other side.
Still, she puts her hand on the door handle. Again, she freezes. She closes her eyes and tries to steady her breathing that she didn't even realize was uneven. Maybe Mark is just asleep. No, he must be. Why else wouldn't he open the door? They just caught him at a bad time.
It doesn't matter that he never sleeps with the door closed. It must be because he feels unsafe with an alternate around. Yes, Sarah nods to herself. Her brother is completely fine. She's going to slam this door open. He's going to jerk awake and ask her what the fuck she's doing here. She's going to yell at him for the predicament he got himself in and they're all going to leave this house safely.
Sarah turns the handle slowly. Her hands shake so much that the door shivers along with her. She just needs to open it. Her knuckles have turned white with how much force she's gripping it with. It's turned as much as it can. Now just. Push. Forward.
Sarah's vision blurs. She blinks and moisture falls down to her cheeks and onto the floor. The door is flung open.
“Ha…” Sarah lets out a weak scoff.
Who the hell was she fooling? She already knew the moment her brother didn't answer his door. Mark never sleeps through anything. She feels her knees buckle as her vision fades to black.
-
A few moments after Sarah passes out, Thatcher finds her on the ground. Then he looks up into what he assumes to be her brother’s room and sees the bloody display of the suicide of Mark Heathcliff. Laying on the ground with the gun inches from his hand.
A few hours later, Sarah wakes up in a hospital bed with her parents beside her. Her mother is crying. Her father is stoic. Emotionless.
A few weeks later, the autopsy showed that Sarah and Thatcher had found Mark's body only a mere few hours after his death.
The next few months are filled with blurs and messy situations that Sarah can barely remember. She's alone. The alternate report papers are strewn around the county. The face of the monster who took Cesar's face posted up wherever she went. The face of her brother's murderer. She grabs them from billboards, poles, walls, any surface they're on and tears them to shreds every time. She acts out. Lashes out.
Sarah makes a vow. She will find that monster. And she will make it pay. For some reason, the thought shoots a pang through her heart. She ignores it.
Several years later, Sarah is now older than Mark when he died. She thought it wouldn't have bothered her as much as it did. But she still spends her eighteenth birthday mostly huddled in the bathroom crying and crying. She waits for the tears to stop but they keep coming. It's as if she's making up for all the years she didn't cry. Revenge is still burning in her heart. For Mark and for Cesar, she's decided. This will be what she will live for.
15 years later, Sarah will create the Bythorne Paranormal Club. She advertises it as a silly ghost hunting hobby. Where people will go out and find paranormal activity to document. Of course that's not all it is. She wants to find alternates. She wants revenge. But if she tells anyone that, they'd call her crazy, insane. The girl who couldn't cope with losing her brother even after over a decade. Maybe they're right. But she doesn't care. Once she sets her mind on something, she won't let it go.
She meets Adam Murray soon after, a boy brimming with potential. She finds out that he's just like her. Crazy. Insane. Their club quickly turns into the Bythorne Paranormal Society. However, after their first encounter with alternates, Sarah realizes that it's too much for her. She lashes out again. Adam doesn't seem too bothered, only annoyed that she's forcing him to find another partner to go on outings with. She will be in charge of everything else. They meet Jonah Marshall soon after. They don't tell him what they're really after.
17 years later, Sarah sits in front of her laptop. She still needs to edit the footage Adam and Jonah got from Mandela County but she couldn't bring herself to open it. It reminds her of her childhood. She had spent so long alone and angry that she had forgotten what it's like to have genuine people around her. Adam and Jonah may have their weird quirks and annoying traits but they don't treat her like the others. The poor girl who lost her mind after the unfortunate passing of her brother. Maybe it's because she never told the two of them but it's all water under the bridge anyway. Mark's death was only one out of many alternate encounters. Sarah looks through her emails and remembers all the ones she sent to Thatcher during her episodes. Maybe she should have been nicer to him. None of this was his fault. Sarah sighs. If she apologizes to him he'd probably say something like, “You may have been mature for your age Sarah, but you were still young and lost your brother.”
Sarah closes her laptop and stares at where the screen used to be. She closes her eyes. When did it come to this? When she imagines their faces, Cesar's comes up more clearly than Mark's. What has she been doing? Did she forget to mourn Mark because of her tunnel vision on revenge? But she did mourn him. The amount of tears she shed over him could fill an ocean. But she now realizes maybe she was chasing after something so beyond her for so long that she had wasted her youth.
Sarah brings her hand up and wraps it around her necklace. The same one Mark gave to her just a few days before her life got turned upside down. Maybe it's finally time to let go.
Just as she was about to yank it off her neck, so it could break, never to be worn again, a loud knock resounds at her door. Sarah looks in its direction, slightly perturbed. Who could it be at this hour?
Sarah will soon open her door to a slightly out of breath Adam. He will ask her if she opened the footage from Mandela yet. She will say no.
Adam will then force his way inside and give her news that makes what happened 17 years ago come crashing back into her full force.