Page 7 of Silent Neighbor

The pain of that day washed over Sheila anew. Natalie's cryptic text ('I'm sorry'), finding Natalie lifeless on the floor of her cabin. That image was seared into Sheila's memory as if by a branding iron.

"I don't know, Hank," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "Maybe this town needs someone new, someone not connected to the Stone name. You've been doing a fine job."

"Me?" He chuckled. "I've been holding on for dear life, that's what I've been doing. The only reason I was able to take this in the first place was because I assured my wife it was temporary. If I said I was throwing my hat in the ring, wanted to do this full time?" He shuddered. "She'd have my head."

"You're not exactly convincing me I should take the position."

Hank smiled gently and handed her a folded application. "Just think about it, okay? This town needs someone like you. Someone who can bring a fresh perspective, someone who understands what it means to face adversity and keep pushing forward. And I think your sister would want that, too."

"I'll think about it," she said, returning the smile, though she didn't feel it.

Inwardly, she wondered: Could she do it? And whatever had driven Natalie to take her own life… was that fear buried in Sheila somewhere, ready to come out if the circumstances were just right?

***

I wish I could talk to you now, Sis, Sheila thought as she made her way home, her mind replaying the events of the evening. What would you say? What would you want me to do?

The cool night air of Coldwater, Utah, did little to calm her turbulent thoughts. She passed familiar landmarks: the old gym where she and Natalie had trained, the diner where they'd celebrated victories and commiserated over defeats.

She paused outside her apartment building, a modest structure that had seen better days. Looking up at the star-filled Utah sky, Sheila felt a pang of nostalgia. These were the same stars Natalie used to point out when they were kids, dreaming of their futures.

How different those futures had turned out to be.

Sheila's hand went to her pocket, feeling the folded application form Hank had pressed into her hand. The paper felt heavy, laden with possibility and expectation. Could she really do it—step into Natalie's shoes, take on the responsibility of protecting Coldwater?

As she climbed the stairs to her third-floor apartment, Sheila's mind wandered to her own journey: the years of training, the dedication, the single-minded focus on becoming an Olympic champion. And then the crushing disappointment of defeat. She'd spent so long living in Natalie's shadow, always the runner-up, never quite good enough.

Inside her apartment, Sheila moved on autopilot, dropping her keys on the counter and shrugging off her jacket. The space was small but tidy, decorated with a few mementos from her kickboxing days: trophies, photos, a pair of well-worn gloves hanging on the wall.

"Star?" she called. No answer. It seemed the girl was out—no surprise there. She had a habit of disappearing at odd hours.

Sheila's eyes fell on a framed photo of her and Natalie, taken just after her sister's gold medal win. They were both beaming, arms around each other, the future bright with promise. Sheila picked up the frame, her finger tracing the outline of Natalie's face.

"What would you do, sis?" she whispered to the empty room. "What would you tell me if you were here?"

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