A crash from upstairs shattered the silence. Heather almost dropped the bottle as she spun around, her eyes wide. She had not even bothered to look for Dawn’s car in the parking lot, assuming her sister would be at work. She wasn’t alone in the house and Heather gripped the plastic bottle tight in her hands. Her mind raced as she tried to process the situation. Glancing again at the empty bottle, panic gripped her. Dawn might have consumed both the beer and the sleeping pills.
Heather approached the stairs and grasped the railing with her free hand. Peering upstairs, she noticed the bathroom door was closed.
“Dawn?” she called, placing a foot on the first step.
No reply met her ears, but Heather could hear sobbing. She pounded up the stairs, her long strides carrying her to the landing
