Shining among Darkness

By
WingzemonX

Chapter 45.
What shall we do now?

It was a lovely night in Anniston, New Hampshire. The weather was mild, and there was not a cloud in the sky. Abra Stone considered it an excellent time to take his puppy Brownie for a walk and clear the mind a bit since she had been locked up all day with her mother, who would not even let her eat without giving him a scolding.

Both walked leisurely along the sidewalk of that peaceful, illuminated, and quiet suburban neighborhood, especially the latter. The street was so lonely at the time; it seemed almost as if everyone had gone on vacation, and now all those houses around them were empty. Abra was not bothered by this at all.

She had Brownie's strap attached to her right wrist as she walked animatedly in front of her. She practically allowed the little dog to guide her on their nightly journey, as long as he didn't get off the concrete path of the sidewalk. For her part, Abra had half attention on her steps and the other half on her cell phone, in which she exchanged messages with her friend Emma. The conversation was another gossip that nobody knew anything about, but everyone was still sure it was true. And yet, she felt an almost moral duty to not leave the discussion until a favorable outcome was obtained.

Abra: I'm tired of being the one giving the explanations.

Abra: If she wants to apologize, she knows where to find me.

Emma's response was immediate.

Emma: She won't. She's too proud.

Abra: Well, that is her problem. She must learn that she isn't the center of the universe.

Emma: Have a little patience with her.

Emma: She has just realized that her GPA won't be enough for Yale.

Abra snorted slowly with some annoyance. She was really sorry about the Yale thing. Still, she was already tired that they brought it up as a justification for anything. She quickly started moving her fingers across the screen to answer.

Abra: She still has one semester left.

Abra: She could apply and achieve it if she stopped being...

Her fingers paused before she managed to finish and send the last message. She seemed to hear clearly a voice calling her name behind her and that abrupt presence echoing through the silence that enveloped her. She stopped her steps, alarmed. She turned quickly to her feet and looked around; there was no one around, or if there was, the mercurial lights did not illuminate it.

"Hello?" She exclaimed a little loud. "Who's there?"

There was no answer. Everything went back to being as silent as a moment ago.

This was strange to the young woman. It hadn't been like one of those times when you think to hear your name suddenly, but it's just some misinterpreted noise. Abra was sure she really heard it, with its three letters. Although her very short name could easily be confused with other words or expressions. That wouldn't be so weird... if it weren't for the fact that she didn't see anyone around.

After pondering it for a few seconds, she shrugged and continued her walk, although not as calm as before.

After finishing around the block, the girl and her puppy headed back home about five minutes later.

"Come on, Brownie," Abra exclaimed as she unlocked the front door with her keys, and immediately the little brown animal rushed into the house. "That's it, little one. We're back," she warned forcefully to be heard.

As she walked into the living room, the girl could see her father, David Stone, sitting in the dining room with his tablet in his hands. He was staring at the screen with considerable concentration and itching it every few seconds with his index finger.

"How was the walk?" Her father asked absently, without taking his eyes off the tablet.

"There were no fights this time, so you could say it was fine," Abra commented mockingly as she sat down in one of the dining room chairs next to her father. He just nodded, possibly without actually listening.

Indeed David was still focused on that card game that he had just been downloaded a few days ago, and that practically did not let him do anything else. Abra wondered how long it would take for him to get bored with it or if her mother would force him to get bored all at once.

As if she had invoked her with her thought, Abra heard at that moment her mother's voice coming from the stairs.

"Abra! Your dog climbed back onto the sofa," Lucy Stone's voice reproached, annoyed, followed by her hurried footsteps down the last steps and then into the living room. "Down! Come on."

Brownie, who had settled into the largest armchair in the living room, jumped down before Lucy reached him, drifting away until hiding under the table at Abra's feet.

"How serious is it to have a little dust and hair on the furniture, Mom?" Abra commented humorously, reaching down to stroke Brownie's head a little. Her mother just snorted in annoyance, starting to shake the couch with her hands. "Did you write something while I was gone, dad?"

"What...?" Her father stammered, somewhat puzzled, finally raising his face to his daughter. "Ah, no... I got a little distracted, I think."

"Doing what?" Lucy muttered somewhat aggressively from the living room. "Wasting time with that silly game again?"

"No, of course not," David replied clearly defensively, hurrying to turn off the tablet and place it on the table, pretending he hadn't been engrossed in it just seconds ago.

And there was what Abra knew would sooner or later happen: Lucy Stone taking charge of the situation.

"Well, this is something I don't want to interfere with," Abra muttered evasively and slowly rose from her chair with the delicacy of a bomb screwdriver. "I leave you; I have to do homework. Come on, Brownie, let's go up."

The young woman walked briskly toward the stairs. Brownie did not hesitate to respond to her call and followed her from behind. The intention was to lock themselves in Abra's room and concentrate again on the conversation she had left pending with Emma; and, of course, in her homework. However, neither of them managed to climb more than three steps.

Abra stopped suddenly midway. She felt the entire house around her spinning, so she quickly held onto the railing to avoid falling. Sounds and images that were strange to her suddenly began to come to her head. The scene around her flashed to another that was not familiar at all or turned entirely black for a few seconds. Abra did not know what she was seeing: she was looking at a forest in the distance, a table, beige walls, and the sporadic faces of two people she could not focus enough to recognize.

Then she heard a loud scream that pierced her ears and made her double over in pain.

"Ah!!" She yelled loudly and took her hand off the railing to instinctively try to cover her ears, but it was useless; the sounds and screams continued. Worse still, she lost her balance from being unable to support herself and fell to her knees on the step.

The scream startled Brownie, who quickly ran away to hide under the table again.

"Abra!" Lucy Stone screamed hysterically and immediately came around the chair to head toward her. David wasted no time in doing the same.

Abra rolled over onto her back, leaning back on the stairs. Her eyes were pressed tightly, as did her hands against her ears, but the sights and sounds continued.

"Who are you?" She heard a voice screeching like glass being scratched. Two more similar ones followed.

"Ah, she can see me. Is she like you? I should also pay her a visit after I finish with you. But this time in person..."

"Don't even put the finger on her, you bastard."

Lucy came to her daughter and took her in her arms.

"Abra, honey, what is wrong?"

Abra didn't answer. She just writhed and groaned in pain. Lucy kept insisting, but the result was the same. It was as if she couldn't hear her.

"You are in no position to threaten anyone. And you will never be again..."

And at that moment, unparalleled pain invaded the seventeen-year-old's entire body. It was a burning, corrosive sensation that ran from her head, down for her back and legs, and left her totally paralyzed. Abra began to scream so loudly, as she did not know her throat was capable of. Her mother and father looked at her, totally terrified, afraid to even touch her.

"Stop it!" She moaned between screams. "Stop it! Make it stop it, mom!"

This was a desperate cry inspired by pain and fear. Her mother could do little or nothing for her at that time, but in her position, the girl could only reduce herself to a poor girl crying for help.

"No! Leave her!" the first of those screeching voices screamed louder again. "Leave my mom!!"

That last scream stretched out in all directions like a tremendous explosion in her head. Everything was covered with an intense flash of light, and then nothing else...

Abra's eyes closed heavily, and then her body slumped completely on the stairs without offering any resistance. He was left in a crooked position, with her face against the edge of a step and her arms and legs bent in a position that seemed close to hurting herself. And there she remained, completely motionless.

"Abra, darling!" Yelled Lucy, her face covered in tears. She dared to approach her again but was afraid to move because she thought it might hurt her in some way. She only shook her daughter a little, trying to make her react, but there was not a trace of awareness in her. And the worst part was that she was starting to feel abruptly cold.

Lucy turned startled to her husband, who was watching everything from the foot of the stairs, quiet and not knowing what to do.

"Call John!" His wife shouted at him in a stern voice. "Quick! Don't just stand there!"

David was astonished when he heard her, and that made him react at last. He immediately ran to the table where he had left his phone. Meanwhile, Lucy kept trying to wake her daughter and carefully managed to lay her on her back.

After calling the doctor, David carried her daughter onto one of the armchairs in the living room. Brownie climbed in with her, making small puffs of concern as he rubbed his little head against her side. On that occasion, Lucy Stone did not care in the least about the dog's dirty paws on her chair. The only thing she could think of was her daughter, her baby, who looked and felt almost like dead in front of her...

— — — —

The ambulance arrived at the Wheelers' residence six minutes after Terry Wheeler called them in desperation. Throughout that time, Jane remained unconscious. The bleeding from her nose was profuse, and Mike tried to stop it by pressing a tissue against it. He couldn't remember if El bled so severely before. By the time the paramedics arrived, the bleeding had appeared to have stopped, but her lips and chin were so stained that for a second, they thought it had been caused by some blow.

Paramedics checked her. She had a low but steady pulse. However, the woman did not react to anything they did to her. Mike couldn't explain to them clearly what had happened. In the face of the paramedics, the worried husband could see that they suspected a fight had occurred due to the chaos in which everything was in the study. Surely they also thought that perhaps he had hit her and broken her nose, a thought that greatly offended him, but he knew it was his obligation to have it.

"He didn't do anything to her!" they all suddenly heard Terry affirm sharply. "It was... that boy."

"What boy?" One of the paramedics questioned. "Did someone attack her? An intruder?"

Terry and Mike were silent. Yes, it had been an intruder, but not the kind they assumed.

"If you don't want to answer us, you'll have to answer the police," the other pointed out as if trying to make some kind of threat.

"I don't care," Mike replied sternly. "Just help my wife, please."

The paramedics concluded that there was not much they could do there, so it would be better to take her to the local hospital. They went to the stretcher, and between the two, they lifted El onto it, held her so that she would not fall, and took her out of the house to put in the ambulance parked on the street in front of the house. Neighbors watched curiously from their windows but didn't have time to deal with it. Mike and Terry got into the ambulance too and started on their way.

On the way, Mike took the opportunity to call Dr. Maxine Mayfield, known simply as "Max" by her friends, including Mike and Jane herself. She was not on duty that night at the hospital, but she said she would be there immediately when she knew what had happened.

Upon arriving at the hospital, Mike and Terry had to stay outside in the emergency waiting room while the doctors checked El. Max arrived shortly after but barely paused to greet them and immediately left to join the patient's team. Max was almost like the family doctor and one of the few thoroughly familiar with Eleven's unique physiognomy. Only she could have a complete picture of what happened. Therefore her presence in all that disaster was more than necessary.

Minutes passed, maybe hours, and Mike and Terry still had no news. The young woman, at one point, laid her head on her father's legs, intending to only rest for a few seconds, but ended up falling asleep. She was sixteen now, but sometimes she seemed as she was still only a little one of ten. She was so much like El at that age, in more ways than one. Their other two older children, Sarah and Jim, had come out more on the side of Mike's family; Sarah had become almost the spitting image of her aunt Nancy.

But Terry was clearly Eleven's daughter, with a more introverted and smiling personality but the same brown curls and flirtatious smile. And, of course, those same skills. Sarah and Jim had shown similar capacities as children, but when they were grown up, they were appeased until today; as far as Mike knew, there were only small traces left that both of them did not use to fully exploit. But Terry was different: with each passing year, she seemed to be getting stronger. And that to a Mike Wheeler now close to fifty, with the weight of everything he had seen throughout his years, had him more than worried. Especially now that he knew about someone out there, so dangerous and who seemed to have been hell-bent on hurting them.

And if he loses Jane... what could he do to protect his family? It was hard for Mike to admit it, but there was little he had managed to do without having El by his side for support. He liked to imagine that the feeling was reciprocal on her part, but he knew that it wouldn't be equally.

But he didn't want to think about it too much. The idea that the love of his life could just vanish from one moment to the next, and in such a horrible way... it was simply inconceivable. One would hope that the idea of ​​death, of either of them, had already become somewhat digestible over the years, primarily because of all the dangers they had been facing since they were children. But it wasn't like that... it wasn't like that at all...

Max suddenly entered the waiting room with a calm step and a serene face; so serene that Mike couldn't guess whether she was bringing good news or bad.

Mike got up from his chair, carefully removing Terry's head from his legs. The girl woke up immediately as soon as she was moved.

"Max... how is he?" he questioned, approaching her.

Dr. Mayfield stood firm in front of her old friend. Her reddish and slightly curly hair was held in a ponytail, although it was loose to her shoulders when she arrived. She was only a few inches shorter than Mike but with a strong and athletic build. She wore her white coat over an equally white blouse and blue jeans.

"We stabilized her as best we could. But we can't make her wake up in any way."

"Is she in a coma?" Mike asked, hoping his question wasn't too obvious. Max only slightly nodded her head.

"She still has brain activity; scarce, but enough not to completely lose the calm. We'll do some tests to see if we can discover any physical injuries that could cause her condition."

"Can I see her?" They both heard Terry blurt out in haste, approaching his father from behind.

"She's in intensive care..." Max hesitated when answering, but immediately Terry approached her and took her arm with some force.

"Please, Aunt Maxine. Maybe she could hear me."

There was a strong trace of plea and conviction in her eyes. Max looked at her for a moment, doubtful. "Maybe he can hear me," she had said, and she knew beforehand that it might be true. She then looked at Mike for some kind of opinion, and he only nodded slightly.

"I'll ask permission and accompany you myself," Max said with a half-smile adorning his freckled white face. "Just give me a minute. I need to talk to your father about something else."

"Sit down for a second, honey," Mike asked his daughter, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I'll go with you in a moment."

Terry nodded, but she looked unsure. Still, she returned to her chair and sat in it, leaving them alone enough that they could talk about what they wanted.

"Actually, there is little we can do for her here," Max pointed out bluntly. "I should ask for her transfer to the city, but..."

"They won't be able to help her there either," Mike concluded before his friend did.

"What exactly happened?"

"I don't know," Mike muttered, a little defensive. "Someone attacked her, from a distance... you know-how. I don't know who it was. She told me about a guy, a strange boy who had attacked her before."

He had not been able to tell her the full implications of what happened over the phone at the risk of being overheard by paramedics. But it was not necessary; Max had immediately sensed that it was one of those things. However, she looked at Mike with some severity at that moment, crossing her arms in an almost martial position.

"Did her nose bleed again?" She asked abruptly, taking his old friend by surprise. "It had been cleaned by the time I arrived, but they informed me. They told me also that the bleeding was quite a lot. It's true?"

Mike didn't reply, but his face was enough to reassure him. Max then began to speak much more slowly to her.

"Mike, I warned you two. If she abused her abilities again like before..."

"Don't dare to blame her for this," Mike replied, as slow as she but still blunt, annoyed at the mere insinuation. "And you don't have to remind me that. Do you really think I have the power to stop her from doing anything she wants to? And besides, weren't you the one who told me long ago that she should be the one to set her own limits, and I shouldn't control her?"

Maxine's eyes widened in astonishment, and right after, they turned annoyed due to the sharp sarcasm of her last words.

"Are you going to berate me for something I said thirty years ago?" She murmured slowly sternly. "Very mature, Mike. But yes, I did. As a friend, I was confident that she would know what was best for her, but I could not leave it lightly as a doctor. Not since that time..."

The air between them became pretty dense. That single mention made any confrontational attitude in both of them dissipate little by little.

Mike sighed heavily.

"She's been okay for many years, even stronger than before. This had nothing to do with it. It was the work of that person I told you about. He did something to her, I'm sure."

"And would that be a better option? At least otherwise, we would be dealing with something familiar."

Mike backed away, trying to avoid eye contact with his friend in an attempt to calm her anger, not to mention her denial. Well, he had seen it; her nose had bled again a few days ago after so many years. But she had downplayed it, and unconsciously he had too. They didn't want to think that it could be something really more severe. It was easier to blame that stranger than his own inaction."

He heard Max sigh a little and take a somewhat more relaxed stance, or at least not accusatory.

"Did you tell the others?" The doctor asked. "Or at least Jimmy and Sarah?

"No... not yet..." Mike answered doubtfully.

"Maybe you should. Just in case."

Mike turned to see her sideways. He looked calm, but in reality, he was still as terrified as he was a few moments ago. "Just in case." How heavy those words could be.

— — — —

Just as Max promised, she got Terry to see her mother. She would accompany her herself, as it would not be safe that any nurse witnessed how exactly she intended to try to make her mother listen to her. Perhaps nothing unusual was seen or heard, but it was worth preventing.

The image of her mother disturbed the young woman a bit. Jane was lying on the gurney, unconscious, her hair in a mess, and her face looked older. She even seemed thinner and more fragile. For a moment, Terry really thought it wasn't her.

She had a tube attached to her nose to help her get oxygen, as well as several connected devices that measured her vital signs. She was covered by a blue sheet, although underneath, Terry could see that she was still wearing the clothes she had been wearing a few hours ago. The doctors only opened her blouse a little to connect the sensors.

After the initial shock, Terry cautiously approached the gurney, stopping just to her right. She gazed at her mother in silence for a moment. Little by little, she was able to recognize her in that pale and distant image. She firmly clasped her hand with her left and placed her right delicately on the woman's forehead; it felt cold. The young woman closed her eyes and breathed in slowly, focusing entirely on her mother and no one or nothing else. And she stayed that way for several seconds, maybe minutes until it almost began to worry Max.

"Terry?" the doctor murmured after a long, silent wait. "Everything is alright?"

Terry continued to do her own thing without answering her for several more seconds. When she finally spoke, she was accompanied by a marked sense of anguish.

"I can't feel her; I can't feel her at all," she whispered slowly, opening her eyes again. "It's like she's not here or anywhere."

Max didn't know how to interpret those words.

"Like I told you, it still has brain activity, so somehow or other, she's still there. I promise you that I'll do everything in my power to bring her back."

Terry was silent. She seemed, evidently, not wildly convinced by her promise.

She placed her hand once more on her mother's smooth, cold forehead and concentrated again, this time without closing her eyes.

"Please, mom, tell me something. Talk to me, tell me whatever." She continued without feeling anything as if she were speaking to the wall. "Why can't I reach you? Where have you gone?"

Max continued to watch her. Despite the time that she had been treating Eleven and her children, or all that she had lived and seen with her other friends during all those years, she did not consider herself as an expert on the subject of psychic abilities. So, she did not understand what exactly it could mean that Terry couldn't reach her. However, she had a feeling that it couldn't be a good sign at all.

And inevitably, she also asked herself the same question: "Where have you gone, El?"

— — — —

Matilda, Cody, and Cole had allowed themselves into a group therapy room to talk alone about the sensitive call Cole had received from Monica, the Foundation's tracker. Cole had already informed his two new friends about the main thing, but only until they were there did he give them all the details he had. Monica didn't really know much either, although they could build a more complete story between what they and she did know.

Eleven had been psychically attacked in her own home, in front of Mike and her youngest daughter. The attacker had bent her and done so much damage that now the Foundation's director was in a coma, and her actual state was still unknown. All of that happened right at that moment, right while they were dealing with all that madness. Cole had thought he sensed Eleven's presence and heard her voice during the fight with the stranger. Still, he thought it was just his imagination, or perhaps a side effect of whatever the attacker did to immobilize him. But now he realized that it was not so; It had been Eleven who had stepped in to save him, as she had with Matilda in Portland. The result this time, however, had been far more disastrous.

They were sat each in one chair, the three arranged in a circle in the center of the room. Matilda hadn't said a word since Cole told them everything. Her lost and tired gaze only stared at the opposite wall. Cole and Cody, however, weren't much better. Each one looked upset, serious, uncomfortable, and of course, annoyed. But mostly, they felt lost. Neither could fully understand that something like that had happened.

Eleven? The one who always seemed invincible and untouchable? The one whose very presence commanded both respect and fear alike, depending on the situation? How had something so horrible happened to her? Matilda and Cody were wondering all of that and more, and Cole was wondering in part as well. Yet the detective remembered what Eleven had told him that night.

"He wasn't an ordinary person, even by the standards of those who are like us. I'll be honest with you: he terrified me..."

"It took every ounce of my force to repel him, and I'm not sure if I can do it again if the situation repeats."

And as always, she was right...

"Was it the same boy from last time?" Cody stated confidently as if reading his mind.

"It sure was," Cole commented, not so convinced, although deep down, he had no doubt about it. "Who is he really? How could possibly have done this to Eleven?"

"We know as much as you do," Cody replied dryly. "Didn't Monica tell you if she had discovered something?"

"Apparently, Eleven just asked her to find this girl named Abra she mentioned to us the other day. Eleven seemed to believe that whoever she was, is related to her attacker. However, Monica failed to discover much."

All three were silent as if trying to digest each piece of information at once.

"It's all my fault..." Matilda suddenly muttered, completely breaking the deep silence in which she had been plunged for some time.

Cody and Cole looked at her, confused.

"What do you say?" The biology professor asked her.

Matilda continued speaking without taking her eyes off the wall.

"Eleven told me I couldn't handle this, and instead of listening to her, I got mad and threw a tantrum. If I had heard to her, if I had not been so proud..."

"Hey, wait," Cole interjected quickly before she finished. "That has nothing to do with it. Even if you hadn't set foot here, I would have asked to come here, remember? And all this would have happened anyway. The actions of Leena Klammer, or these guys who are with her, didn't depend on yours or ours."

"But I went to Portland to see Lily Sullivan on my own," Matilda declared sharply. "Eleven had to step in to save me, and I exposed her to that stranger guy. If I hadn't done that, she would never have..."

"It's not like that." It was Cody's turn. "No one could have predicted this would happen, not even Eleven."

Their words seemed to enter one ear and come out the other. In fact, it wasn't even sure that she was listening to them, or if the words that came out of her mouth were actually directed at them. She was sunk in her own head as if arguing with herself.

"It's like Chamberlain again, exactly the same," Matilda blurted out, confusing them even more.

"That wasn't your fault either," Cole pointed out sternly.

"And how do you know?" The psychiatrist answered openly defensively, turning to him with a challenging attitude. "You don't know what happened that night; you don't even know what happened here. You know nothing."

Cole seemed taken aback by this harsh response, but he was also noticeably irritated. Matilda wasn't the only one who was tense and tired; all of them hadn't had a tranquil day at all. And, mainly, he did not like the idea of ​​she speaking to him in that way again, when he thought they had already passed that stage.

"Let's not lose our cool..." Cody tried to intervene, somewhat nervous.

"No, it's okay," Cole pointed out sharply, then leaned his body toward Matilda. "Do you want to blame yourself for everything? Well, then I grant you: this is all your fault, yours and no one else's. All the world's problems revolve around you, Dr. Honey."

"Hey..." Cody exclaimed in alarm. Matilda just looked at him dryly.

Cole sat back upright in his chair and apparently more serene after taking that off his chest.

"But with that cleared up, we can move on to what's really important. We've to decide what to do now, especially without Eleven to guide us."

"What to do?" Matilda snorted wryly. "What will we do about what? Do you want us to search under every stone for this woman who took Samara or the boy who did this to Eleven?"

"Monica or one of her other trackers can tell us the whereabouts of Samara, Lily Sullivan, or Leena Klammer. They have found people with less than a name and a photo before."

"And expose any of them to the same thing that happened to Eleven? No, she wouldn't want us to do such a thing."

"She would want us to take care of this for her. Not let them get away with it and take revenge for what they have done to us."

"And how would we do that exactly?" Matilda sentenced sternly, almost as if she was spitting out a loud scolding. "Do you want us to go and face whoever this guy is? Let's all go together to defeat the villains as if we were the X-Men or a team of Dungeons and Dragons? No..." She stood up from her chair then, holding on to her injured arm with some force. "We aren't superheroes. We are just a school teacher, a failed psychiatrist, and a policeman who should better consider where to spend his next vacation."

Then she took a couple of steps in the direction of the room door, and Cole jumped out of his chair at that moment, standing up as well.

"Will you just give up like that? You repeatedly said that you would not abandon that girl, no matter what. And now, will you turn your back on her?"

"I tried!" Matilda exclaimed forcefully, turning to face him. Although her expression was belligerent at first, it softened to almost sadness. "I tried... it's all I know how to do... Matilda, the perfect girl, Eleven's favorite, the genius... She only knows how to try things and fails in that attempt."

Cody and Cole were silent, ignorant of what to say.

The psychiatrist sighed. She knew very well that she was feeling sorry for herself, but it was something she couldn't, and didn't want to, avoid at the moment. Matilda turned back to the door with the intention of leaving for good.

"Where will you go?" Cody asked, and Matilda paused for a moment to answer.

"First to see my mother for a few days to settle this," she replied, placing her left hand on her shoulder. "Then I'll go to Indiana to see Eleven and see what I can help at the Foundation until she recovers..." Those last words were laden with mistrust as if she were unsure that this could really happen. "And then I'll go back to Boston. You two can do whatever you want. Forgive me for getting you into all this."

And she kept walking to the exit, now definitely without the intention of stopping or looking back.

"Matilda, wait," Cole snapped, trying to catch up with her, but couldn't do it before she was entirely out into the hall.

"See you later, Detective."

Matilda walked out of the therapy room, out of sight of both of them.

Cole remained standing, staring silently at the now-ajar door. Suddenly he clenched his fists, and out of nowhere, he turned and kicked with all his might the chair closest to him. It fell, rolled a bit on the ground, and then slid away from him, creating a thunderous and annoying thump in the process.

"I'm sure that chair deserved it," Cody commented wryly, watching the whole scene from his seat.

"I would have liked a bit of your support, pal," Cole accused, turning to him accusingly.

"Do you really think it would have helped? Besides, she is right. You're a cop, and you've fought things like this before. But in truth, there is something so dark in all this that I simply don't understand." Cody looked thoughtfully at the ground as he crossed his arms defensively. "I wish I could help, but... when I could have done something, I reduced myself to the same crying child that I have always been. And now I don't even have Eleven... I'm sorry..."

The teacher rose carefully and also prepared to leave. Cole stopped him for a moment with his own voice.

"Do you think you can sleep without nightmares while that stranger boy is out there threatening us? If he did this to Eleven, what would keep him from doing it to all of us?"

Cody hesitated a few moments, crestfallen, but he also came out without answering anything in the end.

Alone in the room, Cole's anger and frustration were only growing. He ran his fingers through his short hair with some insistence. He almost involuntarily took out his pack to get a cigarette.

What Matilda had said came to her mind: "Eleven had to step in to save me, and I exposed her to that stranger guy. If I hadn't done that, she would never have..."

If that was true, then... was that his fault? Eleven had appeared to save his life, like so many times before. But now, the price she had paid was much higher.

As soon as his cigarette touched his lips, he only held it there for a few seconds before tossing it to the ground in frustration. He sank into a chair and hid his face behind his hands.

"Shit," he muttered, though it was the softest word he wanted to use right now.

"You were lucky this time," He thought suddenly, shrewdly remembering that voice whispering to him. He had no clear memory of listening to it, but it was still hovering in his mind like flies in the garbage. "But that bitch won't be able to protect you anymore. You should have listened to your mommy when you could, handsome. Now it is late; He won't let you go anymore."

Cole considered those strange words. It was late; maybe it was late.

— — — —

Almost at the same time Dr. Maxine Mayfield received the distressing call from her friend Mike in Indiana, several miles away in New Hampshire, John Dalton, a doctor and friend of the Stone family, also received a call full of concern from David Stone. He could not explain everything clearly, but John managed to understand that Abra had suffered a sudden faint, and they could not make her react. Before he even thought to suggest that maybe it was nothing and they must just wait a bit, or even that it would be much better if they called an ambulance, John had already put on his shoes and jacket and took his vehicle's keys still with the phone in the ear. He didn't even have time to explain where he was going to his wife, but he hoped it was clear from the context that it must be an emergency.

The Stone family, and especially Abra, were not ordinary patients for Dr. Dalton. As a pediatrician, he had met and watched many children grow, but Abra Stone was unique in more than one way. Just as the Wheeler family entrusted Dr. Mayfield with many private matters that could not be shared with just any doctor, the Stones did the same with Dr. Dalton. So much so that her first reflex after what happened had been to call him.

When he arrived at the Stone residence, her parents had put Abra on one of the armchairs. Lucy and David informed him that in the time he had taken to arrive, the girl had not yet given any sign of consciousness. They had tried an alcohol swab as John had suggested over the phone, but it hadn't worked. At first glance, she looked very calm and placid, as if she were just taking a little nap. Touching her forehead, however, John noticed that it felt a bit cold, even though the weather inside the house was quite pleasant.

John examined her as best he could. Outside of the cold, which became less strange as time passed, everything seemed normal. His pulse was a bit weak but within normal ranges. He checked his hair and neck and did not feel or detect any injuries or blows. He also considered that she could be using some drug. And although it was not something he could rule out for the moment, he did not see any physical signs that could indicate it.

The additional options, of course, were too many: a tumor, anemia, low blood sugar, even a pregnancy; all of them verifiable only with a more thorough medical examination.

But John suspected it was nothing similar to that. She really looked very calm. For a moment, John was tempted to just shake her a little to see if she would wake up just that, but he guessed her parents had already tried that and more.

"At first glance, she doesn't seem to have anything out of the ordinary," he pointed out to his parents, who watched expectantly at one side of the chair at everything he did. "She seems to just be asleep."

"But she doesn't wake up, John," Lucy pointed out with a degree of impatience. "And you didn't hear her scream. It was like someone was tearing her alive. It was horrible."

"We have to call an ambulance," David added, "take her to the hospital, do tests on her... or something, right?"

"In any other case, I'd say it would have been preferable to do that as the first option, over anything else," John said, wondering shortly afterward if he wasn't berating himself. He stood up, putting his stethoscope around his neck. "However, before doing that, we should rule out that, in the case of Abra, this could be another type of problem. One who needs another kind of help and another kind of expert."

He looked at both of them seriously, hoping his words were enough to make them understand. So it was; both David and Lucy understood. It was a possibility they had considered while waiting for John, especially because of how Abra was acting just before the blackout. However, they hoped that somehow John would come along and discard that option; Lucy especially wished it were that way. As terrible as it was, he preferred it to be some disease and not something... more. An illness or injury could be understood and treated; the other she did not understand, and how to "treat" it usually involved something dangerous and horrible.

Lucy cautiously approached the couch and sat down next to her daughter. She took her hands gently in hers and gazed silently at the girl's sleeping face. So beautiful, so cute... and so grown. When had she grown so big?

She sighed with some resignation, and without releasing her hands, she turned to her husband with a solemn expression. As John had indicated, that might require another type of expert. And for better or for worse, just as they had a family doctor, they also had this other type of expert almost at hand.

"We have to call Danny..."

END OF CHAPTER 45

Author's Notes:

—Maxine "Max" Mayfield is based on the respective character in the series of Netflix, Stranger Things of 2016. In the original series, in its second season that occurs in 1984, she is only 13 years old. By this time, she will be around 46 years old, just like Eleven and Mike. At the time the original chapter in Spanish was written, it has only been released until Season Three of the series, so at the moment, only the first three seasons will be taken into account as a reference for this story from now on, even if in the next few seasons something happens that contradicts what is shown.

—John Dalton, David, and Lucy Stone are characters from the novel Doctor Sleep written by Stephen King and published in 2013.