— CHAPTER 5 —
HIDE AND SEEK

TUESDAY 8th NOVEMBER,
1983

THE Hawkins cemetery can look a grim place this time of year — trees barren of their leaves, the sunlight obscured by sullen grey clouds, casting shadows over the tombstones lined up in uniform rows. When she was a kid, Daphne remembers trembling and clenching her father's hand like a vice during one of the first, dreadful visits. "Nothing to worry about honey," he'd told her. "You're safe as long as she is here." Since then she had managed to find tranquility and a place for reflection, mostly in the warmer days.

Her mother is tucked snugly into the best part of the cemetery. Right at the end, in the right-hand corner, the willow tree cranes over her spot and safeguards it throughout the year. It always looks particularly beautiful in the summer when dappled spots of sunlight illuminate her name.

     She meanders calmly past the other rows, names she's memorised over the years flashing by her like memories of a life gone. Every now and then she'll see the occasional visitor — some of them new, some of them old, but every one of them sticking to their routines religiously — but today, it looks like she will be alone. Good. Daphne was hoping for some alone time with her mother, anyway.

     "Hi Mom," she smiles with thinned lips, shrugging her coat off her shoulders and flattening it out on the damp grass. As she takes a seat cross-legged opposite her, her eyes drift across the words etched into the stone:

Martha Elisabet Delaney
July 6th, 1944 – February 21st, 1971
"A beloved mother, daughter
and life companion."

     "Sorry I'm a little late," Daphne sighs, "these past few days hit me like a truck." Her attempt at visits every fortnight would usually fall on a Sunday — not for any particularly religious reason, or anything.

     Her mother died on a Sunday.

     Sometimes she wonders if it's an unhealthy habit. As far as she knows, it isn't — it brings her some comfort to know there is always someone in there who she can tell anything, and they won't judge. Just like she was when she was alive. But Daphne doubts over if every fortnight might be teetering on the edge of excessive. Her father visits once a month, she knows, and sometimes they even end up there together out of coincidence. Cath only ever goes when she has to; she never seems to handle it all too well, her face always washing over with a pale, blank expression when they go for anniversaries.

     At least it's not once a week, she thinks to herself. Otherwise you wouldn't have anything to talk about.

     "Let's see, what can I tell you..." Will, Will, Will, her mind screams. But that's the last thing she wants to talk about — it feels like that's all anyone is talking about since Monday. "I've got a Chemistry test later this week. Procrastinating studying like my life depends on it. You wouldn't happen to know how to convert Moles to Grams, would you?"

     In the silence that follows her question, a breeze stirs the trees and her hair, shedding goosebumps on her skin that she rubs away with her hands. "Nah, of course you don't..." Daphne mumbles sheepishly. She can almost see that infectious smile of her mother's she remembers so well, the one that would light up any dark room.

     But there's still the elephant in the room, preying relentlessly on her mind.

    "There is, uh, something else — I don't know how to say it..." she sighs, re-adjusting her position on the ground and resting her chin in her palm. "So, there's this kid... Will... and he— he's gone missing. Completely random and everything." Chuckling bitterly under her breath, Daphne shakes her head. "I know, right? In Hawkins, of all places?"

     She notices the blanket of crisp brown leaves by the headstone, and kneels over to sweep them away.

"I don't know. At first I thought maybe he'd wandered off, or something. But I've just got this gut feeling that something's wrong. Really wrong. Kids like Will don't just... wander off."

A screech from behind draws her attention to an elderly woman shuffling into the cemetery, after a slow attempt at shutting the iron gate. The same woman who comes every week to see her husband's grave — unceasingly. The drab bouquet of flowers hangs from her withered hands as she sets herself down on the damp wooden bench in front of his headstone. Daphne turns back to her own visit.

"Anyway, that's why I've got this tub of Mac 'N' Cheese going cold," she says, slapping the bag slumped against her knee.

Her mind begins to drift to earlier today, of her conversation with Felix in the Hawk Theatre. She contemplates bringing up her worries about Tonya — maybe she is just overthinking it. But what if she isn't? Nothing about Tonya vanishing with no warning, a day right after another kid does, seems normal.

In the end she decides against it. "Well, I'd better go," Daphne jumps to her feet and brushes down her trousers, looking up to the darkening sky. "I'll see you in a couple of weeks, Mom."

With a friendly nod to the other elderly visitor, she closes the gate behind her on her way out and hops on her bike. The last glimpse of sunlight has just begun to fade between the thick bodies of trees lining the roads, shrouding the road before her in a dim shadow. She squints through the darkness as the forest surrounds her further, around when she reaches the dirt path winding through to the Byers household.

The humbly sized bungalow is squashed at the forefront of a ring of trees, providing both a barrier of privacy and isolation. The faded Ford Pinto in the drive stands blanketed with damp autumnal leaves, the rainfall from Monday having cleansed only the first layer of the paint. A gust of wind rustles a pair of pyjamas hanging on the washing line — the perfect size for a certain twelve year-old boy.

     Daphne slows to a halt and hops off her bike, guiding it by the handlebars to the porch, before stopping short at the steps. She might not have been to see the Byers' house for a good year or two, or perhaps even longer. But seeing Will's bike not propped up in its usual place against the banister just feels... off.

She doesn't know why she's suddenly nervous when she rings the doorbell. Her insides churn uncomfortably and make her skin tingle as she waits for someone, presumably Joyce, to answer. What is she going to look like? It's impossible to know what state Joyce could be in. Maybe she's coping well, or maybe she isn't. She just knows she hasn't seen her out and about at all since the day Will disappeared.

"Joyce?" Daphne calls out hesitantly. "It's me, Daphne."

"I— I, u-um—" The suppressed voice from inside coughs audibly, "Daphne, I'm sorry, now's not a great time..." She hears frantic scurrying inside, and what sounds like furniture being moved. Joyce must be holding up worse than she thought.

"That's okay. I, um, I just brought some food for you. Mac 'N' Cheese?"

A hint of the warm, motherly tone Daphne has always recognised in Joyce comes back as she replies weakly, "Oh! Thank you, you didn't have to do that, honey."

"It's no problem." Daphne holds the tub with both hands awkwardly, stumped by the lack of reaction to her gesture. "Uh... where do you— where do you want me to leave it?"

"Just at the door, thanks."

"... What, here? Are you sure?"

"Yes, yes, that'll be fine. Please."

"Oh... okay." She mumbles, crouches down quizzically to place the tub on the doormat. What now? She isn't feeling hugely welcome at the moment, and understandably if Joyce really does want to be alone. But at the same time it doesn't feel right, leaving her like this....

She has Jonathan. You're just going to make it worse if you stay.

"Well, I'm gonna go now, Joyce," she announces, but receives little response. "We're... thinking of you."

On her way out, Daphne turns back to see the house one more time, and notices the curtains drawn back at one of the front windows. And it doesn't take a hard look to see Joyce planted firmly in her armchair, cheeks stained with dried tears, fixated on the telephone wire with an unmoving stare.

Just waiting. Waiting... and waiting.

━━━━━━

     TODAY it is Dustin's turn to chauffeur Cath from place to place on his bike... apparently. There was a small scuffle about it before they set off to Mike's house from the library, Lucas claiming it was "his turn, I did mine yesterday" and Dustin rebuking that "we don't get 'turns', dipshit". Either way, whoever she rode with wasn't going to make her any less scared for her life at those sharp corners...

As they finally — thank God — reach Mike's house, she lifts her leg over the side of the bike, and almost trips ungracefully as she dismounts. With a reasonably awkward "Thank you" to Dustin for the ride, the three of them walk toward the Wheeler household. It might be the first she's seen it in broad daylight with the knowledge of who lived there.

"Hey Cath," Dustin suddenly asks, still catching his breath from the ride, "You don't have a bike of your own, do you?"

He's asking because you're a nuisance to shuttle around, she thinks shamefully.

Gulping anxiously, she shakes her head, panicking to create an excuse. "I did have one, but it broke a few years ago — it's quite dangerous to ride..." To her relief, Dustin seems to accept it with an indifferent nod. She'd rather not tell him the laughable truth, which is that she fell off her bike when she was nine and broke her arm, and she's been terrified to ride one ever since.

After a couple of buzzes of the doorbell, Karen Wheeler opens the door with an oven glove on one hand. She blinks and smiles at the boys, leaning in the doorway. "Hello boys, and... Cath, what a surprise!"

She chuckles shyly, the realisation sinking in that she has no real reason to be here. Not any that Karen would know about, anyway — unless she's in on the plan. Yes. By now, Mike should have executed his master plan, and Karen will have found out about the girl and taken her to the authorities so they can handle her...

Before Karen can get another word in edgeways, Mike comes zooming down the stairs in a flurry. "Hi Mom! Sorry, can't chat, we better go upstairs — school project, it's very important, bye!"

Cath follows the boys upstairs, silently observing her surroundings as she ascends behind them. She hadn't taken the opportunity to take it all in last night, since the only place she'd really spent more than five seconds in was the basement. But now, she observes the photographs strung on the wall with each step she takes, transfixed. Wedding photos, childhood photos; some spontaneous, others posing tensely in front of a photographer. It's like a story behind told as you go up.

On the landing, a bedroom door has been left ajar to Nancy's room (she assumes it is, anyway, for the shades of light pink and blue flooding through). She discreetly peers in on her way past it, only catching a glimpse of a giant Tom Cruise poster and her ivory coloured bedposts.

Mike pauses in front of his bedroom door, glancing at the trio waiting expectantly before him, as if he's searching for the right words to say — then he sighs and swings open the door, stepping aside to let them in. She trails in behind Dustin as the door clicks shut, hit by the boldness of the cerulean blue painted on his walls. Small action figures stand on desks, dresses and strewn on the floor — Cath makes the effort not to step on tiny Yoda — and various trophies from Science Fairs stand in haphazard places. Right on the bed sits the girl, cross-legged and her—

Wait...

Cath blinks at the girl — first in disbelief, then exasperation that she tries to direct more at Mike. What is he thinking? Either the plan didn't work, or he's holding back. Keeping her as some... strange pet. But Karen seems clueless, so it must be the latter, she thinks. She doesn't seem to be the only one disappointed towards Mike, either...

"... Are you out of your mind?" Lucas cries incredulously.

"Just listen to me—"

"You are out of your mind!"

"She knows about Will!" Mike bursts out.

Cath squints at him impatiently — but a hidden curiosity keeps her quiet, eager to hear what he has to say. "What do you mean she knows about Will?" Dustin asks in a low voice, eyes popped wide open.

    With a frustrated huff, he crosses over to the dresser by the door and picks up a photograph. In it are the four boys, including Will, their faces painted with glee as they all cling onto the winner's trophy from the Science Fair for dear life. For a moment, Cath gets caught in the glint in Will's eyes, his sweet smile, before she snaps out of it.

"She pointed at him. At his picture." Mike gestures frantically to the photograph.

     "Still... she could have just been, you know, pointing?" Cath queries, struggling with how to phrase it. The girl was in shock last night — how can they trust anything that she does? Not that it's the poor thing's fault, but it seems like a shot in the dark.

     "No. She knew he was missing, I could tell."

     Lucas shakes his head sourly. "You could tell?"

     "Just think about it! Do you think it's just a coincidence that we found her on Mirkwood," he explains, "the same road where Will disappeared?"

     "That is kinda weird..." Dustin whispers, glancing to Lucas for guidance as he seems to wake up to a truth. Cath, herself, begins to question if Mike really is onto something. She doesn't even know him that well; he could be spouting any old lie out of trauma, for all she knows.

     She peers over his shoulder at the girl again. Her eyes have glasses over with a thin sheen of tears, lip trembling at the raised voices in the room. Cath attempts a little smile to comfort her, but the girl only seems to interpret it with confusion.

     "And she said bad people were after her," Mike continues, "and maybe these bad people are the same ones that took Will..."

     Dread sinks into the pit of her stomach like a rock in the ocean. "Mike... what do you mean, 'bad people'?" She eyes him sternly, trying to mask the brewing anxiety within. What bad people? She swears, if he's dragged them into a mess where these 'bad men' will be hunting them down, and all because of this girl—

     "I think she knows what happened to him."

     "Then why doesn't she tell us?" Lucas fires back, his arms folded across his chest. He turns his head around to face the girl, taking a couple of large bounds to reach her spot on the bed. "Do you know where he is?" At her lack of an answer, he grabs her by the shoulders and roars once more, "Do you know where Will is?!"

     "Stop it, you're scaring her!" Mike protests. Just underneath Lucas's arm, Cath notices her digging her fingers shakily into the fleece blanket draped over her knees.

     "She should be scared..." Lucas says defiantly, before turning back to the girl. "If you know where he is, tell us."

Another long silence. The girl cowers in front of him, paralysed with the pressure. She seems as thought she might burst into tears at any moment — and what then?

"This is nuts! We have to take her to your mom."

"No. Eleven said telling any adult would put us in danger."

     "What danger?" Dustin asks fearfully.

     "Hang on, who's Eleven?" When Mike glances across to the girl, she groans in frustration. "You named her?!"

     "And Eleven, too?" Lucas questions, as if he finds the name distasteful.

     "El for short—"

     "MIKE!" Dustin raises his voice in desperation. "What kind of danger?"

Cath sighs erratically, folding her arms like Lucas. If this is about safeguarding her like some kind of stray cat, she doesn't know what they would do. Although you can't talk, she thinks sheepishly, remembering her instant attachment to Ringo when they first found him under that Ice Cream truck. That's different — this is a human.

     "Danger danger..." To demonstrate, Mike raises his hand in a pistol gesture, drawing it around clockwise to face each of their foreheads. The message is clear — and so is this danger. When he reaches Lucas, his hand is slapped down in aggravation.

     "No, no, NO!" Lucas hisses. "We're going back to Plan A. We're telling your mom!"

     He brushes roughly past the two boys, and for a moment Cath is tempted to follow. She wouldn't be here if they hadn't roped her into this giant mess in the first place! She just wishes she'd stayed in the house and trusted her gut...

     Lucas's hand closes angrily around the handle as he swings the door open, taking a step forward only to find it slamming violently in front of his face. He blinks at the door — trying to comprehend whatever invisible force tugged it closed. Sceptically, he pulls it open once more and jumps when it slams again, the tremor knocking more plastic figurines to the carpet.

     With a firm click, the door locks by itself.

     Cath turns around slowly, noticing at the same time as the others that the girl — Eleven — is now stood up. Her hands have balled into fists at her sides, and she stares down at them with a new kind of sinister glare that frightens her to be at the end of. But more peculiarly, a line of blood dribbles immaculately from one nostril onto the top of her lip. Eleven utters one, simple word, but with a tone stony enough that they don't dare to step out of place:

     "No."

━━━━━━

     "MIKE'S house? As in... Mike who?"

     "Wheeler."

     "Oh..." The line crackles as her father pauses for thought. Cath nervously winds the telephone cord around her fingers, placing her index finger from the other on her free ear to block out the clattering of cutlery and plates from the room next door. This is at least one of the truths she can tell him — today has ended up with an unscheduled dinner at the Wheeler's.

     But how on Earth to justify why she's at Mike's house? That should be interesting.

     "It's for a school project," she begins to fabricate. "I got paired up with Mike, and Dustin, and Lucas. So we went to his house after school to do some... brainstorming..." Her palms begin to sweat, so she readjusts her grip on the phone. "And before we knew it, it was late! I didn't want to stay too long, but Mrs. Wheeler offered to cook, so..."

     "Okay. Huh..."

     She hates lying. The lie itself isn't so hard to think of, but to actually sell it is a horrible feat for her.

     "I mean, you're there now and that's fine, but I just wish you'd told me." Oh no, here we go. The lie falls apart. "I don't really want you two wandering around Hawkins without telling me. You know, because... well, Will, and everything. Especially after dark."

     "I'm really sorry, I meant to tell you!" says Cath. She really did. "We just lost track of time. Next time I'll tell you, I promise."

     "Alright. But... can I please pick you up after dinner?"

     Letting out a huge sigh, she nods vigorously although he can't see it. At least she's spared from seeing her life flash before her eyes hitching one more ride on someone's bike. "Yes. How does... 7:30-ish sound? It's just so we can pack up... and... everything." And pay a visit to the girl camping out in Mike's basement.

"7:30. No later. Alright, I'm gonna go — enjoy your dinner, and I'll see you then."

"Okay. Love you."

"I love you too."

Cath waits for him to hang up before placing the phone back on the wall. She steps back into the dining room, where the aromas of warm meatloaf and mashed potatoes waft through the air. Karen looks up from the spoonful of carrots she's feeding Holly, her youngest child, and smiles warmly.

"Was everything alright?"

"It was all good, thanks. He's picking me up at 7:30." She tucks in her chair between Lucas and Ted Wheeler, eager to tuck back into her meal. All of this fuss over Eleven has left her feeling rather peckish. "I'm sorry I forgot to phone earlier."

"Oh, don't worry about that, as long as everything's sorted now."

Cath cuts off a square of meatloaf and sighs through the awkward silence that has suddenly entered the room. It's only broken by cutlery squeaking, the small gulping of drinks, or Holly's little squeaks every now and then. At one point Cath manages to catch her eye and smiles — to her joy, the three year-old reciprocates, her hands slipping across her highchair's tray as she finds her new entertainment for the evening.

Gosh, how Cath wishes she could have been an older sister.

"... Something wrong with the meatloaf?" Karen finally asks. That's when she notices the other boys poking at their food, submerging it in gravy without much interest. Then she remembers who it's for — for a moment she feels a pang of guilt, but washes it down with a sip of milk.

"Aw, no, I had two baloney sandwiches for lunch, uh..." Dustin says bashfully, lowering his fork before mumbling, "I don't know why I did that."

     "Me too," says Lucas with a staged smile.

     "It's delicious, Mommy," Nancy takes over.

Something below the table kicks the tip of her shoe, drawing her attention to Mike slumped down slightly in his chair. He glances from her plate to her face a couple of times before she computes what he's saying. Food for El. Cath responds with a subtle shake of the head. No!

     When he furrows his brows at her, she glances over at his mother at the end of the table. If Karen has made the effort to stand there and cook a delicious meatloaf, then the last thing she's going to do is be rude and poke at it! But then again, there's also a hungry girl in the basement...

     "So, there's this special assembly thing tonight... for Will." Nancy says, pushing a boiled carrot around the plate. "At the school field. Barb's driving."

     "And why am I just hearing about this?" Karen asks suspiciously.

     "I thought you knew."

     But El... Mike continues to guilt-trip Cath over the table, waiting for her to crack. Unable to avert his gaze, she clenches her jaw and cuts her whole meatloaf slice in half, pushing one part to the side of her plate. Gesturing to it with her fork, she raises her eyebrows at him — Happy now?

     "I told you, I don't want you out after dark until Will is found—"

     "I know. But it'd be super weird if I'm not there. I mean... everyone's going."

     Karen draws in a long breath, shutting her eyes for a moment. "Just... be back by ten," she finally agrees.

     With pursed lips Nancy nods politely, getting back to her meal. Holly has just looked up again and Cath tries to get her attention again.

     "Why don't you take the boys with you?"

     "NO!" They seem to cry out in unison, shaking their heads violently. Nancy doesn't seem too keen on the idea either, but even she seems unnerved by their reluctance to go.

     "Don't you think you should be there? For Will?"

     The staircase creaks in the hallway and Cath looks up — a lump of mashed potato slumps off her fork and onto the plate, her jaw dropping in dread. A shaven head bobs with each step down, until she has emerged into full view. Startled, Mike chokes on his milk, coughing and spluttering in shock. Karen begins turning around to see whatever scared him, only to be drawn back by Dustin's sudden slamming of his fists on the table. Holly cries out with a frightened whimper, her bottom lip sticking out as her eyes begin to water.

"Sorry..." he creeps back upwards into his chair. "Spasm."

     Once the painful meal is over, the boys manage to shovel whatever spare meatloaf they left onto a small tray, and try to discreetly disappear down into the basement with it. At least she'll be filled with good food... Cath thinks.

     "El?" Mike calls out. A blanket is lifted up from the small fort, and a wide pair of brown eyes look up at him. "No adults. Just us and some meatloaf." He holds out the tray to her like a peace offering. Teetering on the edge of ravenous, Eleven grabs a hunk of meatloaf and sinks her teeth into it.

     Cath stands beside Lucas, not quite sure what to say or do next. The girl is looking up at them again with a fearful hostility, but not once Mike intervenes. "Don't worry. They won't tell anyone about you."

     "Yeah," Dustin agrees, "We never would've upset you if we knew you had superpowers— ow!" He rubs his abdomen sorely from where Lucas prodded it.

     "What Dustin is trying to say is they were just scared... earlier. That's all."

     Forget that, Mike, I'm scared NOW... Cath massages her hands together restlessly, remembering the 'bad men' from earlier. If that's really true...

     "We just wanted to find our friend," Lucas adds.

     Eleven pauses from eating her meatloaf, squinting at him quizzically, with the kind of cluelessness Cath would expect in a small child like Holly. "What is... friend?"

     "Is... is she serious?" As they shrug, Lucas taps his foot in deep thought. "Um... a friend—"

     "— Is someone that you'd do anything for," Mike interjects.

     And so does Dustin, "You lend them cool stuff like comic books and your trading cards."

     For good measure, Cath decides to contribute too. "And they will listen to you, no matter how crazy you sound. They've always got your back." She thinks wistfully of Pam, Sandy and Gina, hoping to bring up some good memories — but for some reason, all she can think of is the time when she didn't get the memo they'd gone on a school trip for the day, and she spent the entire lunch outside waiting for them and hardly eating a bite...

"... And they never break a promise."

"Especially when there's spit."

"Spit?" Eleven echoes, staring curiously up at Dustin and Lucas.

"A spit swear means —" Lucas spits into his hand, making Cath grimace "— you never break your word. It's a bond." He slaps his hand into Dustin's for a firm handshake, who stares at his own palm with a vague disgust when pulling away.

Nodding in agreement, Mike seats himself more comfortably on the floor in front of her. "That's super important, because friends... they tell each other things. Things that parents don't know."

Cath glances down at her wristwatch. 7:26. Her dad could be here any minute now, so she might as well get going. But where does she go from here? Does she just pack up and leave, or say goodbye first? They probably wouldn't notice if she slipped out. She begins edging her way towards the steps, just about to ascend the first one when Eleven suddenly stands up from the fort. At first she wonders if she'll do one of those things with her mind again, like with the door earlier, but instead she slowly makes her way over to the table in the middle of the room. She takes a seat in front of the D&D board and shuts her eyes, hands spread out on the table.

"What's the weirdo doing?" Lucas murmurs.

     "El?"

     Her head lulls back gently, as if she snapped out of a doze, and her eyes flutter open. Entranced, Eleven picks up one of the figures — a miniature wizard, complete with robes and a staff.

     "Will," she whispers.

    So she does know. Cath draws nearer, wanting to get a closer look.

     "Superpowers..." Dustin blurts out in awe, to which Lucas rolls his eyes from the other side of her.

     Lowering himself quietly into the seat next to Eleven, Mike leans in closer to her. "Did you see him? On Mirkwood?" he asks softly, but with a sense of urgency. "Do you know where he is?"

     Eleven's arm takes all of the remaining figurines off the board with a clean swipe, before she flips it over — the dark, lightless underside of the board exposed. Wordlessly, she picks up the wizard figure, synonymous to Will, and slams it down in the centre of the board.

     "... I don't understand."

     "Hiding."

     "Will is hiding?" Mike asks, "From the bad men?"

     She shakes her head.

     "... From who?"

     Eleven reaches for another far off figurine, slamming it down opposite Will's. From where Cath is standing, it appears to be a monster of some sort — with tentacles or claws outstretched and a giant toothed mouth ready to swallow any of its prey whole. But what does it mean? If it's worse than the bad men...

     "Cath!" Karen yells outside the basement door, "Your dad's parked outside."

     "Coming!" Cath makes sure to say her goodbyes in haste, since she wouldn't want Karen coming down and seeing Eleven out in the open like this. But the ominous image of that figurine facing Will still lingers as she bounds up the steps, grabs her coat and jogs down the drive to get into the car.

     Her dad's instant conversation about something funny that happened at work goes right over her head, her mind still scanning relentlessly over everything from this afternoon — the mountain of things that had developed just in the space of these few hours. What did she mean by bad men? Why Eleven, of all names? What was it Will was hiding from?

     And why was the board turned upside down?

━━━━━━

     BLOOD.

     It's the first thing she is aware of when she finally comes to. The coppery, metallic taste staining her tongue; the stuff oozing out of her punctured limbs; the streams trickling down the gash on her head and into her eyes. Everything hurts, and yet everything is so numb. She's cold — no, freezing. And every breath through her cramped lungs feels like it might be her last.

     Tonya doesn't know how she got here. And she doesn't know how long she's been out, either. One minute, she knows she was driving along the road with blissful symphonies of classical piano from her recitals. And the next thing she knows, she's here... half dead with shards of glass sticking out of her like she's a pin cushion. In this dark and unforgiving place she just can't recall.

     There's one rather large fragment lodged in her shoulder that's stopping her from getting up. Bracing herself, she bites her cut lips and wraps her fingers around the glass. On the count of three she pulls, and almighty does it hurt — she screams bloody murder through it — but in a few seconds it's over. The huge shard sits in her trembling hand, a new wave of lukewarm blood gushing down her arm.

     Bad idea. Really bad idea.

     She can just about sit up now. Tonya turns to try and survey her surroundings, but everything is cast in shadow. She couldn't see two feet in front of her if she tried.

When she tries to call out for help, Felix's name dies in a guttural sound at the back of her throat. She isn't sure she even has the energy to talk — the excruciating pain seems to be the only thing keeping her conscious.

And then there's a voice.

There's someone out there. If she could jump for joy right now, she would. Maybe they can help her! If she could just... get there... and so the crawl begins, drawing closer inch by inch. It's as though the voice comes from every direction; reverberating in a ring around her, taunting her.

It's becoming more distinct the closer she gets. The voice sounds so young... almost like a child's.

"... coming!"

What's coming? Help is coming? Oh, rejoice! A tear of relief slips down her cheek, cutting a trail in the blood dried on her cheeks. She's going to be found. They'll put her in a nice warm bed, nurse her wounds, and then once she's fit enough she can finish that ballet performance and give Felix that mixtape she's been working on —

"It's coming!"

I know, I know, she thinks, you could at least give me a hand. And then she stops in her tracks. There's something not right about that voice... the shrill cry suddenly grows louder, as if it's in close range.

"IT'S COMING!"

It's the tone — it's grave, petrified, traumatised. Her heart sinks. What's coming...

"IT'S COMING! IT'S COMING! IT'S COMING!"

Footsteps pound around her and she gasps, frantically looking around blindly in the darkness for some sort of sign. What's coming?! And then she feels it. The iron grip that drags her down, leaves her clawing at the leaves and digging her nails into the dirt, just as Will's last word gets lost as she slips back under:

"RUN!"

━━━━━━

A/N;

well... wasn't that a cheerful ending?

well folks, this is the last chapter of this rollercoaster that has been the year of 2020! that feels insane to say... i literally went out of the house for like 25% of it AT THE MOST. here's hoping next year will be better, eh? i'd like to wish you all a happy new year, and my best wishes go to you ♥️♥️♥️

please leave a vote and comment if you enjoyed! or if you didn't, i guess that's also fine, as long as you're polite 🤡

— Imogen

[ Published: December 30th, 2020 ]