1.
The pattern…
It looked so familiar.
It almost looked like something used in some occult ritual.
She remembered seeing something like this when she read a book about black magic.
Oh yeah. It's from that alter.
What?
What am I thinking?
She wasn't sure.
She walked forward tracing the pattern with her fingertips.
Heather suddenly felt sick.
She wanted to throw up.
She backed away from the eerie design and suddenly felt better.
She wondered why she thought of a burning house when she looked at it.
She wanted to go home.
2.
T.V static.
A sickening feeling down in the pit of her stomach.
She looked at the blaring screen and could almost make out a figure.
It was faintly shaped like a girl.
But even as she walked in the opposite direction she could still hear the static.
And as she ran up the broken escalator she could have sworn she heard a girl's voice crying out.
"Daddy?"
3.
A mirror.
She wanted to smash it.
Heather hated mirrors.
They had scared her ever since she was a child.
They seemed to expose every weakness no matter how carefully hidden they were.
She turned away from the mirror.
But then…
Static buzzed vigorously from the radio in her pocket.
She turned and froze in fear.
Herself.
Her reflection.
Bloodied and bruised.
As she went to leave the room, the reflection changed, it wasn't Heather anymore.
It was different.
A girl, not much younger then Heather stood, long black hair that reached her waist and peircing blue eyes.
She held out her hand as Heather opened the door and left running as quickly as she could, but not before muttering something under her breath.
"Cheryl?"
4.
The headaches were getting worse.
She felt sick.
Sicker then she had ever felt in her life.
Dahlia.
Dahlia.
Mommy?
What was she thinking now?
These thoughts made no sense.
She didn't understand what that man was talking about.
She didn't understand what her father was trying to hide from her.
She didn't get any of it.
5.
She fell to her knees, her head almost hitting the side of the bloodied bath-tub.
So many thoughts racing through her head…
Heather couldn't take it.
She didn't want to hear all of this…
She was hearing things...
Oh god. I didn't want this.
I'm sorry.
I'm so, so, sorry.
Sorry for what?
Heather didn't know.
6.
You must remember me, and your true self as well.
True self?
What the hell was that lady talking about?
When she tried to think about it, she only received a massive headache.
There has to be some logical explanation for this.
Was it even real?
It could be some weird dream.
Well, whatever it was, Heather wanted it to stop.
She wanted to wake up from this nightmare.
7.
Heather absolutely horrified.
This couldn't be happening.
This couldn't be real.
It…It had to be a dream or an illusion or something just…just…
JUST PLEASE DON'T LET THIS BE REAL.
Daddy.
No.
She fell to her knees, sobbing and rested her head against his lap.
"Daddy…"
It OK, Cheryl. Things will get better. I promise.
…What?
8.
Holy one.
Kill her?
Then there was a picture of herself.
Holy one?
Is that what she was?
But…How in the world was she holy?
9.
She never would of thought…
Did this really happen?
Was she really that child that god herself birthed?
This was insane.
That Alessa girl couldn't of been a god if her father was able to kill her.
But…It all fit together so well now.
It all made sense.
This is why she was here then?
Heather understood now.