As he had told Heather the last time that they had crossed paths, Sam was good on his word. If he said something, he meant it. And if he meant it? He was sure as hell going to follow through and make sure that what was said was done. So he stepped his way toward Heather's apartment, moving with the dark as he ventured her way. She was probably sitting inside, hugging her bottle of booze and wishing that her dearest Sammy was home to comfort her.
Well, life was tough and she'd have to get the fuck over it.
He walked over to the door and pulled at the knob. It was locked. He smirked and leaned in toward the barrier, calmly calling out for Heather to open the door. He could himself, but he wanted to scare her. It was fun that way.