chapter twenty-six – tell me lies, tell me sweet little lies

March 22, 1986

July fourth, nineteen-eighty-five. Officer Sofia Vasquez was already on route to Starcourt Mall before her partner Callhan even radioed her about the fire – she later recalled that she just had a feeling. Only a select few knew that one of her kids worked there - that 'few' being Jim Hopper and one of the dispatchers at the precinct, Sharon, who also had a knack for chatting about her kids to Sofia. Many of her fellow officers thought it had been odd that she was one of the first to arrive on scene beside the paramedics. Not a day goes by where she doesn't thank and curse God that she was.

That night is ingrained in her memory. It haunts her dreams. It lives inside of her.

She remembers the overwhelming rush of dread and guilt that erupted in her body when she caught sight of her forlorn daughter drenched in blood – her brother's body limp right beside her. The sound of the defibrillator whirring to life as the paramedics tried their best to bring her son back echoes in the deepest parts of her mind. Irene's rough sobs pound against her skull in the dead of night and sometimes, lately, she'll find herself peeking into her daughter's room every few minutes to make sure she's still there. She calls her the moment she knows she's home and even though she's practically thrown herself back into work, she'd be damned if she didn't make sure her daughter was safe.

The anxiety fueled nights had dissipated for a while, but she had yet another one of those feelings that danger drew near. Her fears were confirmed when Chief Powell had called her at six in the morning, on her day off, urging that she meet him at Hawkins' trailer park that moment.

She threw on her uniform, scribbling a small apologetic note to Irene, before rushing out the door. No matter what breathing exercises she did, what radio station her manicured fingers turned to, she just couldn't shake the sinking feeling that tugged at her stomach. 

She saw the entourage of officers standing outside a particular trailer and parked her car beside the rest. When she got out she did not expect to see the likes of Wayne Munson so close to the crime scene. She couldn't stop to pick his brain about what in the world was going on, because he was already being questioned by another officer, but when she stepped up the front porch to the trailer and realized it was his, it clicked.

Eddie Munson was a murderer. 

Irene woke in a cold sweat, breath ragged, feeling as if she'd just ran a marathon. Her hands shook with terror as she clutched her grandmothers' quilt to her chest; the clock on her nightstand read 6:15, the bright red casting a slight glow across the room. The muffled sound of the front door opening and closing pulled her further out of her visions' haze and she rose to her feet, stumbling toward her window so she could peek through the blinds. She watched her mom jog toward her car before pulling out of the driveway; the sun hadn't even fully risen yet, leaving the sky looking a dull gray with pale orange undertones.

She sighed and leaned her body beside the window, catching her breath. Her eyes fluttered shut and flashes of her vision, turned nightmare, taunted her. As she stood there, awake and terrified, there was one question that ran circles in her mind. What the hell did Fred Benson have to do with her? The only reason she knew of the junior was because he was another writer and editor for the schools' newspaper, alongside Nancy – he was always stuck to her side at events. So, why in the world was she having visions about him of all people? 

Her socked feet shuffled toward the kitchen where she poured herself a glass of water before gulping it down. She found the note her mother had left behind on the counter. (Got called in :( Breakfast is on me, Love you!) The note read in her mothers cursive handwriting with a twenty dollar bill placed next to it. She shook her head and pocketed the cash, already making a mental note about how she'd use it to buy her mom lunch and some flowers instead. Without missing a beat she placed two slices of bread in the toaster and then rushed back into her room to get some clothes on.

The image of Fred gnawed at the back of her eyelids every time she blinked and she refused to sit by and wait for something to happen so she could make sense of the vision – she wouldn't make the same mistake she did months ago. First, she faces the Tower again and sees a grueling fate befalling her town and her friends that lived there and now this vision with Fred in it? It wasn't a coincidence – the two had to be connected.

She heard the toasters ding and finished clipping on the straps to her denim overalls before rushing toward the kitchen, simultaneously tripping over her backpack and hitting the floor with a rough thud.

"Shit." She groaned, rolling over onto her back. Her body slightly ached once she stood and slung her bag onto her shoulder. By the time she reached her toast they were far from warm but she slathered the two pieces with butter and jam anyways, munching on them as she paced the linoleum floor.

"Okay, Irene, you have to be practical and objective about this." She whispered to herself, "You can't tell anyone–not yet at least–the kids will freak out and they're all just gonna bombard you with questions you have zero answers to." A huge breath left her lips, her shoulders drooping downward as she brought a hand up to rub her face. "This is great, this is just great." She kept mumbling to herself as she shoved a few snacks into her backpack before she was out the door. 

When Steve and Robin pulled up to their friend's home they knew something was off the moment they saw that her mothers' car was nowhere to be found. Their suspicions were put to slight rest when they found a piece of paper taped to the front door that read: Went to run some errands with my mom...don't wait up! Won't be back for a while. Breakfast is on me next week, I swear – Rena.

"Irene running errands at seven in the morning?" Robin questioned skeptically as she slumped in the passenger seat of Steve's BMW. He shrugged, turning the key as he glanced over at her. "Do you know how hard it was for me to even get her to consider coming to these breakfast dates with us? She hates doing things before at least ten o'clock on non-school days."

"She didn't say anything last night but...she was acting strange." He recollected the brunette's skittish behavior and the reassurance she kept giving him that momentarily eased his nerves.

Robin angled her body toward him slowly, "And you just left her?"

"Her mom was home, what was I supposed to do? She kept telling me she was fine–"

"That's the main thing people say when they're not fine!" Robin bickered, looking at her friend wildly. Thinking back to the conversation, this time with a more analytical mind, Steve couldn't help but feel a tug at the bottom of his stomach; maybe he shouldn't have left her. Who knows what was actually going on in her head at the time...and even now as she probably wandered store aisles with her mom – what was she thinking?

Irene was not lingering in store aisles like she wished to be but she was thinking about all of the felonies she had just committed within the span of thirty minutes as her sneaker clad feet ran back toward her bike, tucked in one of the racks outside of Hawkins High. In her sweaty palms she clung to a copy of school documents that she'd borrowed after picking the lock to the front office.

She was running on pure adrenaline as she pedaled away from the building and toward the nearest bus stop. When it arrived only then did she let guard down as her body slumped into one of the empty seats. Her mouth was dry and hands trembled as her eyes scanned over the copies of Fred's files; a large part of her felt guilty for being so intrusive but she kept trying to convince herself that it was for a good reason – that it had the potential to save his life, should he be in any danger like she suspected. 

What she found out was that Fred hid a lot from everyone; justifiably so, who wants people nosing around in their business anyway? She knew there was more though that the files didn't seem to cover fully – it didn't say much about the crash he was in, in her vision, and she wondered if the Bensons ever told the school about it and why it wasn't on file, or if it had yet to happen. Her skin itched with questions and she was desperate for answers.

The bus took thirty minutes to get to the other side of town but once it eased to a stop, she looked up from the papers and felt her shoulders tense up all over again. To her right she could see a sea of houses tucked neatly beside one another and to her left was a hill, blooming full of Black-eyed Susan's and New England aster's. The driver was already waiting for her out on the sidewalk with her bike in his grasp. When she stepped off she gave him a wobbly smile, to which he ignored, and then without missing a beat she mounted her beach cruiser and rode the rest of the way to the Benson residence – which, to her dismay, would take her another thirty minutes to search for the house and then convince Fred's mom to let her in.

She was going to get her answers, even if it meant breaking the law and telling a few white lies. 

On the other side of town her mother watched the coroners cover Chrissy's body before carrying her out of the Munson home. The image of her contorted arms burned a hole in Sofias mind and she gulped down whatever it was that kept trying to creep up her throat. She'd seen many things but that, that was new and it was terrifying. It was inhumane.

"How could anyone do this?" She whispered to herself as the pad of her thumb and index finger rubbed at her eyes, pinching together at the bridge of her nose. How could he do this? Is the real question she wanted to ask, it was one that yanked at her heart. What would she tell Irene?

"Give me something, Powell. Something to make sense of what the hell I just saw." Her desperate eyes fell to the chief of police and all he could do was shake his head in dismay.

"I don't know. Munson said his nephew was gone when he found the body and–Jesus, I've never seen anything like this before." He sighed. "I'm appointing you to lead this case. You've worked all over the country – seen more than Callahan and I combined. I need your help with this." She swallowed thickly at the offer. 

There was no hesitation when it came to accepting, but she was nervous about the things she was going to uncover — only time could tell the kind of turmoil this would bring to the small town. Hawkin's had been through enough and now this? She should've packed up after Mateo's funeral like she promised herself she would. Of course, her daughters' feelings came over hers though and she knew Irene had seemingly adjusted to Hawkins way better than any other place they'd been. She couldn't, wouldn't, put her through moving again especially after the events of the summer – those wounds (both of theirs) needed to heal first.

She spent the rest of the afternoon avoiding Wayne's nervous gaze like the plague – knowing the little that she did, she couldn't bring herself to look or even talk to him. She knew she'd break down and that wasn't what her team needed; she had to be strong – to lead by example. And, of course, Wayne didn't take it to heart. He knew she was just doing her job, but there was that small hopeful whisper in the back of his mind. His Eddie wasn't a murderer and he could only hope that she thought the same.

"We're headed to Benny's to question the girl's boyfriend." Callahan spoke up beside Sofia, her shoulders slightly jolted upward at his sudden appearance but she played it off. 

"Okay," she muttered with her back still toward her partner. She scribbled in her notepad and heard his shoes shuffle on the dry grass. "Don't go spooking that boy; you give him the wrong impression and we're gonna have a mob full of fired up teens who think they're the next town heroes." She warned and the brunet rolled his eyes behind her.

"Don't you think he deserves to know something ain't right?" She finally turned to throw him a sharp glare.

"I do, but the moment you start getting inside his or any of those kids' heads that there's some sick killer on the loose that murdered their classmate they won't know what to do with themselves. Our duty is to keep things under control and I won't have teenagers running around thinking they know how to do my job better than me." Her words packed a heavy punch as Callahan looked at her with wide eyes before retreating back to his police car. She rubbed her face restlessly and huffed once she was out of earshot from her other co-workers. A dull ache gnawed behind her eyes and she was mentally bracing herself for the hectic day she was about to endure. She couldn't stop thinking about Irene though – what the hell was she going to tell her? 

— — — —

"This lemonade is delicious, Mrs. Benson. You have to let me know your secret! It's so refreshing." Irene gushed as she chugged the drink she was offered upon entering the house – breaking the law had left her parched and she was grateful that Fred's mom was being so hospitable to her, even if she was a stranger. The woman sitting across from her smiled bashfully and waved her hand at the comment.

"Oh it's nothing, Fred helped me tweak the recipe so that it doesn't taste too tart. Speaking of my boy...you said you were in the paper with him? He's never mentioned you before...What did you say your name was hun?" She trailed and took a sip from her own glass. Irene wondered if she noticed how warm her face became at the question or how her hands slightly trembled when she reached for a blueberry scone between them.

"I'm a transfer, so this was my first and last year at Hawkins High. Editorials are more of Fred's expertise while I do..." She gulped trying to think of all the things news people covered. Mrs. Benson leaned her elbows against her dining table, awaiting a response from the teen. "Art!" She exclaimed, startling both of them, once the thought reached her and then straightened her posture, "I work on small columns about our theater and art club."

"Ah!" She exclaimed and clapped her hands together, "Now I remember, you must be Genevieve – Fred's mentioned your columns a few times. He says you've got a real eye for beautiful things." Mrs. Benson smiled warmly and it made Irene's heart melt. How could she lie to this woman?

"Yep! That's me Gen..." She smiled awkwardly before taking another swig of her lemonade to wash down the awful taste that dishonesty left in her mouth. "Is Fred here by any chance?"

Mrs. Benson grimaced and Irene felt her stomach twist with anxiety, "Oh sweetie, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you just missed him. Said he was headed to school to finish up some last minute touches on the papers that go out this week...didn't you know?"

"Oh uh, yeah, I'm not that big in the paper so I just submit my entries and don't have to be there for editing or printing days. Usually Fred invites me anyways but uh...he's been acting strange. H-Have you...noticed any changes with him lately?" She mindlessly leaned forward, praying his mother could give her some kind of insight to help her with her investigation.

"I don't like to gossip, but I have been worried about my Freddy. Ever since the accident he just...he hasn't been the same."

Irene sat up, "Accident?" This sudden interest in her son's endeavors momentarily stirred Mrs. Benson and she couldn't help but feel like she was being questioned rather than having a casual conversation. "It's just...Fred's never mentioned it and I hardly know anything about what goes on in this town because I'm so new." Her smile was wobbly as her hands reached to tug at her earring.

Fred's mom sighed, "It's not my story to tell but because my son seems so fond of you and you genuinely seem concerned for my boy...Fred was in a bad car accident last year; he lost his best friend. It changed him both physically and mentally; he's got a scar across his cheek that reminds him of it everyday. Counselor says he suffers survivors trauma, guilt, and blames himself for it. I just–I don't know how to help him and he started seeing Ms. Kelley more but he just seems to be losing himself and I just...the nightmares and the screaming in the middle of the night, it's too much." She rambled, tears welling in her pale blue eyes.

"I'm sorry about that." Irene whispered, casting her gaze down toward her hands. Inside she was feeling a slew of emotions, from grief to overwhelming fear. She didn't know where to begin, especially since now she knew the vision she had last night had already happened. What was its significance? 

"Don't be, it's not your fault. My Freddy'll get through this–I have faith." His mothers smile was small, not entirely confident, and Irene could tell there was more there; more that the woman wanted to say but couldn't. She didn't want to push anymore though, she'd gotten her answers and it was time to regroup and think of a different approach – another gameplan.

Mrs. Benson rose from her seat and collected their glasses before disappearing into the kitchen. Irene heard the crackle and fizz of their radio's static once it was turned on. Fred's mom browsed the stations until the sound of one caught the teens ear, she instantly stood from her seat and rushed to the kitchen.

"Can you go back to that one?" She questioned, ignoring the weird look that Mrs. Benson gave her before her manicured fingers turned the dial.

"We're working as hard as we can in order to keep everyone in Hawkins safe. This is yet another tragedy that has struck our town and as leading officer on this case, I refuse to let it ruin our community. Your concerns will be taken into consideration as we try and figure everything out as fast as we possibly can." Her mothers voice filled the silence between them and Irene couldn't help but lean in close.

"Thank you, Officer Vasquez. The student that was murdered here at Forest Hills Trailer park has yet to be disclosed to the public as well as their killer, however Hawkins PD is advising everyone to remain calm. I'd say we should all hug our kids tonight...hold them close...tell them we love them. I am Willian Morrison with WHCI and we'll have more for you at eight." The brunette couldn't believe what she was hearing. A murder? Where Eddie and Wayne lived? She wondered if they were okay – sure she was still pissed at the metalhead for how he'd acted the day before and partially heartbroken over their fight a month ago, but that didn't stop her worries from eating her alive. 

"It's a shame what happened to that student from your school. Trying times we're in...I just pray for the day it'll all end." There was a short pause between them before Mrs. Benson turned to cut more lemon slices to add to her pitcher.

Irene opened her mouth to say something but the loud chime of a grandfather clock froze her in her spot. It was the same sound from the night before – the one she'd heard when Steve dropped her off. A haunting chill ran down her spine and she looked over at Fred's mom who was mindlessly humming as she continued to cut the citrus-filled fruit. Then the woman turned, her smile falling once she caught sight of the teen in distress.

"Oh dear! Your nose is bleeding." She yelped and rushed to run a hand towel under some warm water. The clock continued to tick inside Irene's mind and then suddenly a sharp, piercing, high-pitched whistle rang in her ears. Her eyes squeezed shut as a small groan slipped past her lips. Mrs. Benson grabbed her shoulder and an image of her and her husband standing in all black as they looked down at their son's casket flashed behind Irenes' eyes. She stumbled backward at the vision, tripping over her shoelaces; her body fell to the floor but she was quick to scramble to her feet and yank her bag from the chair it was on.

"Honey, is everything alright?! You look like you've seen a ghost! Do I need to call your mother?" Mrs. Benson questioned frantically but Irene couldn't speak – the frog in her throat wasn't letting her get anything out. She opened the front door and rushed out of the house, pulling her bike beside her before mounting it quickly. Her hands shook as she gripped the handlebars and pedaled as fast as she could.

— — — —

There was an uncomfortable stillness that fell inside of Steve's car as they drove across town. No one knew what to say to fill the silence and to be completely honest, they didn't really want to say anything. So to make things any less awkward than they already were, a mixtape of Teena Marie's best hits played softly amidst their doubts and jumpy nerves. Steve eyed the two teens in the back through his rearview mirror skeptically (he seemed to be the only one with a sound mind, who thought this plan was incredibly stupid), beside him Robin sat with her head resting against the window as she bobbed her knee. The breeze wildly blew her bangs as she tried to focus on the feeling of the cool air instead of the shroud of darkness that constantly loomed over her and her friends.

"Dus....Dusti...Dustin!" A voice crackled to life inside Dustin's backpack. He wrinkled his eyebrows together and looked over at Max and then at Robin who instantly turned around at the sound.

"Dustin for the love of god, pick up!" The person yelled, sounding out of breath. Max reached her hand into the boys' bag near her feet and pulled out the walkie talkie. "Henderson, pick up the goddamn walkie or I swear to god I'm going to tell everyone about how you sing–"

Dustin yanked the device, once he recognized the voice, "Rena?! Jesus Christ we've been trying to get a hold of you all day! Where are you?!" He rubbed a hand over his face. It was true; Irene's house was the first stop he and Max made after she showed up at his doorstep claiming Eddie wasn't a murderer. Then, after they'd set up a base of operations at Family Video they tried calling her house a few times to see if she'd pick up. They all figured she was trying her best to avoid any further casualties that getting mixed up in the Hawkins chaos would bring again.

Steve turned the music down completely as the walkie crackled again, "Look, I can't explain it all right now," She huffed and they heard the wobble in her voice – like she was running or something as she talked, "I'm on my bike. We—the group—we all need to talk! Are you with them? Where are you guys? I tried calling your houses–"

"Haven't you been watching the news?" Max pulled Dustin's hand holding the walkie towards her and interjected.

"Mayfield? What're you doing with Dus–You know what? It's not important." She rushed, "I've been across town, it's a lot to explain—look you guys, there's not a lot of time, but I think–" She took a deep breath and exhaled shakily, "I think something is back in Hawkins...to be completely honest, I don't think it ever left." Her words were haunting and caused all of them to share fearful looks. All of their suspicions had been put to rest and a weight was both lifted and then placed back onto all of their chests. Max felt suffocated, Robin felt her hands tremble at her sides, Dustin felt an intense amount of fear bloom in the center of his chest, and Steve couldn't help but feel guilty about the confession.

But there was a small festering tinge of anger that bubbled within him. She lied. She lied about running errands with her mom, she lied about everything being fine last night, and he just let her! He was mad at Irene, but he was more mad at himself.

"Ask her where she is, we'll go pick her up." Robin nodded in frantic agreement.

Dustin looked over at them owlishly, "B-bu–"

It was as if Steve immediately read his thoughts, "Look. Rena's out there alone. Eddie wouldn't want her roaming Hawkins by herself when there's some goddamn murderer on the loose." Just as Dustin was about to question his friend about her whereabouts the device in his hands fizzled again.

"Look, I know it's a lot but we can talk about it soon. I'm on my way to the trailer park—"

The response caused all of them to practically jump out of their seats. Max grabbed the walkie talkie, "Rena, no! We'll pick you up–"

"I have to warn—" The device crackled and Irene's voice suddenly became distorted before it went silent; all the group was left with was static.

"What happened?!" Robin questioned as Max hit the side of the walkie against her palm. Dustin yanked it back from her and tried calling out into the void for Irene again but there was no answer.

"Dustin?" Irene called into her walkie talkie before raising her voice, "Dustin?!"

She hit the small device against her handlebar and veered to the right, further into the street. She cursed loudly at the walkie's stubborn inability to actually work. Finally (after banging it senselessly against her bike failed to fix the problem) she stopped pedaling for the first time since she left Fred's house. 

Her calves were on fire and the rest of her legs felt like jelly as she steadied herself on the pavement before slightly leaning back onto her bike's seat. She took her flashlight out of her backpack, and shone it down towards the device in her hands.It wouldn't turn on at all and after a good ten minutes of examining it, she had come to the conclusion that it was dead and in dire need of new batteries. She cursed even louder and ran a frustrated hand down her face. Daylight was fading quickly and she knew it was only a matter of time before she had to start biking in the dark.

An exhausted sob desperately wanted to creep up her throat at the realization that she wasn't going to get to Fred in time. Her stomach was a flurry of knots as guilt and fear nestled into every single crevice of her body – something was going to happen, she could feel it. She didn't have a vision of Fred's past by mere coincidence; that, she was sure of. There was also an intense urge to protect him that she couldn't shake – the same feeling that tangled itself in her heartstrings when she talked with Chrissy in the bathroom. A feeling that seemed purely intuitive.

The last tufts of magenta were slipping past the horizon as she walked her bike down the road, listing all the things she could've been doing at that very moment that didn't involve fighting against the paranormal. The earth fell eerily silent as she continued on her journey – the only sound evident were her shaky breaths and her bike tires rolling against the asphalt. If it were any other circumstance, Irene would've found comfort in the stillness. But all she felt now was on edge – as if she were being watched. 

Her stamina seemed to be coming back to her though and she mounted her bike. Just when things seemed okay, the same piercing whistle from before ruptured her eardrums. She stopped in her tracks and instantly covered her ears, squeezing the sides of her head to alleviate the discomfort that the sound was causing. It was louder than before and echoed inside of her, vigorously pounding against her skull. Her feet stumbled to the side, causing her bike to fall underneath her as she scanned the surrounding woods.

She was standing in the middle of the road when a glow of headlights could be seen turning the bend up ahead. The ringing came to an immediate stop the same time she heard the car's tires screech against the asphalt–the smell of burnt rubber wafting through the air. Her arms were covering her face, bracing for an impact that never reached her and shielding her eyes from the harsh light. She dropped them slowly and squinted to try and make out the silhouettes inside the car.

"Thank god," She whispered in relief at the two people she couldn't have been more grateful to see.

Robin was the first to jump out of the car and engulf her friend in the tightest hug before Steve peeled her away and ushered the two inside his BMW. The three bomboared their friend with questions as she asked her own – everyone talking over each other as Steve tried his best to shove Irene's bike in his trunk. Little did any of them know that while they all made snide comments about how he was taking forever, he was actually popping off Irene's wheels with some tool he found in the box Robin forced him to keep in his car after they'd gotten a flat whilst traveling to Indianapolis once.

"So that's why we're headed to this "Reefer Ricks" house." Dustin explained to Irene as she sat squished in between him and Max. He watched her gulp and sink back into the upholstery with a solemn look carved into her features.

"I just..." Her voice was barely above a whisper as she looked down at her hands. "I can't believe Chrissy's dead...and Eddie–he–none of this makes sense." The trunk slammed shut and soon enough Steve was sliding back into the driver's seat, huffing under his breath about Irene's 'goddamn stubborn bike.' She pinched the bridge of her nose hard and shook her head. "So...what do we do?"

"Well first, you can tell us what the hell you were doing by yourself in the middle of this–this road! You know I could've killed you, Rena?!" Irene was taken aback by the outburst, everyone was taken aback by it, "A-and then what? You can't just run off by yourself and then lie to Robin and I about where you are..." He trailed, sinking into his seat, before the car began to move again and a thick silence engulfed them.

"What were you doing out here? You said you were across town but why?" Max questioned.

"I had another vision." She finally confessed and everyone collectively held their breaths, "I mean, it's not like my gift was going to fade away after the summer – that's not how it works. I still have the occasional visions about simple things like pop quizzes, rainstorms, and the like. Then there's the vivid ones that hit me by surprise — they're a lot darker than most visions and they feel like nightmares; I kept having them over the summer...I had one the other night. This one was different."

"How?" Dustin questioned, inching his body closer.

"You know Fred Benson?" She asked and Robin turned, gripping the seat.

"Junior...kinda scrawny, always hanging around Nancy at school events? Works for the newspaper?" The brunette nodded in confirmation.

"Yeah...I–I had a vision of his past; some car wreck he was in. I saw all of it. That's how he got the scar on his face — his friend died. I woke up feeling...scared out of my mind. Haven't felt like that since summer...I figured something was wrong."

Dustin furrowed his brow, "So...you went to his house?"

"I may have borrowed some school documents to find out where Fred lives so I could see if everything was alright."

"You stole federal documents?!"

"What else was I supposed to do?! It's not like I'm friends with the kid. I was gonna put the papers back, or better yet throw them in a shredder – they're copies. Technically I didn't steal anything and anyways don't act like you're above breaking the law!" She retorted defensively to which the teen beside her rolled his eyes and muttered something incomprehensible underneath his breath.

"So what'd you find out?"

"Well he wasn't there so I talked to his mom instead. She said he's been having nightmares and was starting to lose himself to his guilt and trauma." Beside her a small groan could be heard and Dustin slumped his shoulders defeatedly.

"So, nothing? Well that's just great–"

"You know what, Henderson? I'm two seconds away from opening that goddamn door and shoving you out of this vehicle!" His sarcastic wit was adorable when she first met him and he seemed so small and deserving of protection, but he'd seemed far more "grown up" now and full of angst, so the comments were more annoying than anything. Not only that but she was exhausted and full of a mixture of emotions she couldn't decipher so she wasn't entirely in the mood for Dustin's filterless retorts.

"If you'd let me finish, you'd know that I had another vision last month with Eddie and I suspected something was coming. Then this happens and I show up to Fred's house and start hearing this sound, and my nose starts bleeding, and before I can even comprehend the matter at hand Mrs. Benson grabs my shoulder and I see her and her husband at their sons funeral and I freaked and left because to be completely honest this entire situation is terrifying and I'm not sure what the actual hell is going on but what I do know is that after we find Eddie, I need to find Fred and warn him before something happens again..." The jumbled confession fell out of Irene's mouth like a landslide and left her feeling breathless.

No one really knew what to say...clearly, it had been something on her mind for a while and yet again it was a secret that she thought she could keep from them. The only difference now was that they thought they knew Irene and were close enough to be told about her visions–about the things that troubled her. Obviously, they were wrong and she still had yet to trust them.

"I was gonna tell you guys but I...I just wanted to make sure I wasn't being paranoid." Rick's house finally came into view and the two teens were quick to jump out of the car and begin their search for Eddie; Steve, Robin, and Irene hung back for a moment.

Steve pulled his key out of the ignition and dropped his hands into his lap. His eyes met the brunettes' through the rearview mirror, "You should have just told us."

"I was just trying to figure it all out beforehand – to protect you guys." Robin winced at the response and could practically predict the words that were going to come out of her friends' mouth. The both of them hated that Irene wouldn't let them in – especially after the three of them practically stared death in the face together and formed an unspoken pact over the summer. She told Steve everything and vice versa – if they could be conjoined at the hip or even morphed into one body, they totally would. They just wished Irene felt comfortable enough to tell them what was going on from time to time, so she wouldn't have to carry it all by herself.

"You don't get to make those calls by yourself, Irene. It's not fair that you expect us to let you save yourself and then everyone else in the process without any help – that's not how friendships work." Steve stressed before getting out of the car and joining Dustin and Max.

Irene sighed, "He's mad at me."

"He's not mad at you." Robin reasoned. Irene looked through the window to her left and scoffed halfheartedly at the sight.

"He's doing the thing." She deadpanned, "The thing where he puts his hands on his hips when he's annoyed."

"Okay so he might be a little upset...just give him some time and he'll come around again."

Soon enough Irene was sitting by herself inside the car; left to mull over her thoughts and feelings whilst her friends followed their own lead. She understood where they were coming from, but she also wished that all her friends understood her motives, reasonings, and inner turmoil. However, in order for them to do that she had to open up about them in the first place and that was something foreign to her. She wasn't ready to tell them everything. Not yet, at least. 

AUTHORS NOTE!

me and irene fr 😩

this literally took AGES to finish because I just kept hating everything I was writing and was so unsure of where I wanted to go with this chapter — because I have two different ideas for this one. and Im like coming out of a really bad burnout/depressive episode so its nice to write again, but it was extremely taxing on my little pigeon brain. all in all, I'm not too disappointed with how this one turned out. it's starting to grow on me and I like that the story's not too action heavy yet. sofia's gonna have a bigger role this season/act and I'm really excited for you all to see her in action again, fighting crime, and trying her hardest not to snap on anyone — especially at that town hall meeting...that's gonna be...not so fun. 

how are we feeling about it? please let me know your thoughts! comments are highly appreciated <3 also, hello! to all my new readers — glad you're here for the chaos...