chapter four. the body

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐖𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋'𝐒 𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐁𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐈𝐓 𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐙𝐀𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐇 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐊. It was a blow so hard that it seemed to knock the breath right out of her lungs. The normally quiet front yard was alive with chaos—flashing red and blue lights from police cars illuminated the night, casting eerie shadows on the faces of the gathered officers. Elizabeth felt like she was in a nightmare, her limbs heavy and unresponsive.

Joyce, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and determination, was frantically recounting their experience to the officers. "It came out of the wall," she kept repeating, her voice rising with hysteria. Elizabeth stood a few feet away, feeling like she was trapped in a glass bubble. She could see and hear everything, but none of it seemed real. Whenever her name was mentioned, she could only manage a weak nod, her mind too overwhelmed to form coherent thoughts.

Inside the house, the atmosphere was suffocating. The once warm and welcoming living room now felt cold and alien. Elizabeth sank onto the old, worn couch, the springs creaking under her weight. She put her head in her hands, squeezing it tightly in a futile attempt to alleviate the pounding headache that had been building since she first heard the news.

Her baby brother was dead. The words echoed in her mind, each repetition more painful than the last. There wasn't any hope left. He would never come home again. She would never hear his laugh or see his smile. She would never sing and play music for him again.

She stared at her feet, her vision blurred by the tears that welled up in her eyes. Slowly, they began to spill over, each drop splashing onto the hardwood floor next to her black Converse. The sight of those tiny, glistening puddles somehow made the pain feel even more real.

Elizabeth straightened up, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand. Across the room, Hopper and Joyce were deep in conversation, their faces tense with worry and determination. Jonathan stood behind them, his posture rigid, his expression a mask of barely contained grief and anger.

"Elizabeth!" Joyce's voice cut through the haze, startling her. Elizabeth flinched, realizing from the concerned faces around her that this wasn't the first time they had tried to get her attention.

"Tell Hopper what we saw. Tell him it's real," Joyce insisted, her eyes pleading. Elizabeth considered it, her mind racing. She opened her mouth, but no words came out. It was as if her voice had abandoned her. Panic surged within her, and her chest tightened, making it hard to breathe. She stumbled to her feet and rushed out the front door, desperate for air.

Outside, the cool night air hit her like a wave. She leaned against the porch railing, taking several deep breaths, trying to calm the storm inside her.

"You okay?" Officer Callahan's voice broke through her thoughts. He was standing by the police car, his face etched with concern.

"Yeah, I just... need some fresh air," Elizabeth managed to choke out. Callahan nodded, giving her a moment of privacy. She resumed pacing the front porch, focusing on her breathing. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. The rhythm was soothing, a small anchor in the chaos.

Elizabeth's mind raced back to the moment in the house. Joyce's desperate eyes, Hopper's stern face, Jonathan's silent plea. They needed her to be strong, to confirm the impossible. But how could she? She wasn't even sure what she had seen was real. The image of the creature emerging from the wall replayed in her mind, sending a shiver down her spine. It was like something out of a nightmare.

𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐙𝐀𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐇 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐆𝐆𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆, the exhaustion weighing down her eyelids. She hadn’t gotten any sleep last night and couldn’t remember the last time she had experienced a full, restful night. Her body ached and her mind was foggy.

She stood next to her mother and brother. Together, they stared through the glass at the coroner, who stood solemnly behind a tarp-covered body. The body that was supposed to be her brother.

Elizabeth gulped, forcing herself to shake away the haunting thoughts that threatened to overwhelm her. She tried to focus on the present, on the sterile room and the people around her. But before she knew it, the coroner pulled the tarp back, revealing Will's face. The sight hit her like a physical blow, and she felt a wave of nausea rise in her throat.

Unable to hold it back, she covered her mouth with her hand and bolted down the hallway, not caring about the confused look Hopper shot her way. She pushed open the door to the women’s restroom, the cool air hitting her flushed skin. She barely made it to the first stall before collapsing to her knees. One hand gripped the toilet seat while the other held back her hair, her body trembling.

Tears blurred her vision as she retched, the violent motion leaving her gasping for breath. When she finally sat back on the cold, tiled floor, she let out a sigh that made her sore throat ache even more. She stayed there for a moment, tears streaming down her cheeks, mingling with the sweat.

Using the back of her hand, she wiped her tear-stained cheeks and then her mouth, the salty tang of her tears mixing with the acidic taste in her mouth. Slowly, she got to her feet, her legs shaky. She exited the stall and moved to the sink, turning on the cold water and splashing it on her face. The shock of the cold helped to ground her, to bring her back to the present.

She washed her hands thoroughly, the soap doing little to cleanse the turmoil inside her. She took several deep breaths, each one a struggle as she tried to regain her composure. She looked at herself in the mirror, seeing the redness around her eyes, the pallor of her skin. But she had to be strong. She had to face what was out there.

With a final deep breath, she turned and walked out of the restroom. The waiting room felt like another world entirely, quieter, with a heavy sense of foreboding hanging in the air. Hopper and Jonathan looked up from their seats, their eyes filled with worry and sadness. Elizabeth walked carefully towards them, each step measured, as if she might fall apart if she moved too quickly.

She sank into a chair next to them. The silence between them was thick, each of them lost in their own thoughts and grief. Hopper reached out, placing a hand on her shoulder, a silent gesture of comfort. Jonathan's eyes were red-rimmed, his face pale, mirroring her own pain.

"You okay?" Jonathan asked his sister softly, rubbing her back in soothing circles.

Elizabeth nodded, though the motion felt heavy. "Yeah, it's just... fucked up," she said, her voice cracking under the weight of her emotions. Jonathan nodded in agreement, his eyes reflecting the same pain and confusion.

They sat in silence for a moment, the oppressive atmosphere of the waiting room pressing down on them. The walls seemed to close in, the air thick with the unspoken horrors they had witnessed. The only sounds were their ragged breaths and the distant murmur of voices from the hallway.

Hopper cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "Elizabeth, about this monster..." he began, his voice steady but filled with concern.

But Elizabeth couldn’t bear to revisit it. The mere thought of the creature sent a shiver down her spine. She shook her hand in front of him, cutting him off. "I don't want to talk about it," she said firmly, her eyes pleading for him to understand.

Silence enveloped them, and it was only broken by the sudden, frantic yelling that echoed through the hallway. "Ma’am, I need you to sign!" The coroner’s voice was urgent, trying to cut through the rising tension.

Joyce’s voice, raw with desperation and grief, rang out in response. "I don’t... I don’t know what you think that thing is in there, but that is not my son!"

Hopper tried to interject, his voice a calm. "Joyce, wait a second."

"No!" she shouted, her voice cracking with emotion as she stormed outside.

"Mom!" Jonathan and Elizabeth called after her. But Joyce didn’t stop. She didn’t even look back.

Jonathan and Elizabeth exchanged a glance, their expressions mirroring each other’s concern. Without another word, they both sprang into action, following their mother outside.

Somehow, Joyce was running so fast that Jonathan and Elizabeth couldn’t keep up on foot. They quickly decided to get in the car, hoping to catch up with her before she got too far.

"Mom, will you get in?" Jonathan yelled from the driver's seat, slowing the car down as they pulled alongside her.

Joyce was walking briskly along the sidewalk, her pace unsteady but determined. "No, I..." she stammered, her voice trembling with a mix of frustration and desperation. "I need to think. Just go on home."

"Mom, will you just get in, please?" Elizabeth called out, leaning out of the passenger window. Her voice was filled with concern, but Joyce still didn’t stop, her gaze fixed ahead, lost in her thoughts.

Jonathan and Elizabeth exchanged a worried look. They both got out of the car and hurried to catch up with Joyce, who was still walking at a fast pace, her steps almost frantic.

"Mom. Mom! Mom. Stop," Jonathan and Elizabeth yelled as they ran to catch up with her, their voices filled with urgency and desperation.

Joyce turned around abruptly, her face flushed with a mix of anger and anguish. "Just go home," she exclaimed, her voice breaking as she faced her children.

Jonathan, unable to contain his frustration, yelled back, "No, this is not an okay time for you to shut down."

Joyce looked taken aback, her eyes wide and filled with confusion. "Shut down? What..." she trailed off, her voice faltering as she tried to process what Jonathan was saying.

"We have to deal with this, Mom. We have to deal with the funeral!" Elizabeth yelled, her voice cracking under the weight of her emotions. Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision as she stared at her mother.

"The funeral? For... for who? For that thing back there?" Joyce exclaimed, her voice louder than she intended. Heads turned, people in the vicinity started staring.

Jonathan’s frustration boiled over. "Okay, let me get this straight. Will, that’s not his body because he’s in the lights, right? And there’s a monster in the wall? Do you even hear yourself?" he yelled, his voice echoing down the street. Elizabeth stiffened visibly as soon as he mentioned the monster in the wall, the terrifying memory flashing through her mind.

"I know it sounds crazy. I sound crazy! You think I don’t know that? It is crazy! But I heard him, Jonathan. He talked to me! Will is— is calling to me! And he’s out there, and he’s alone, and he’s scared, and I... I don’t care if anyone believes me! I am not gonna stop looking for him until I find him and bring him home. I am going to bring him home!" Joyce's voice cracked with emotion as she yelled. Without waiting for a response, she turned and started walking away, her steps quick and determined.

Jonathan stood there, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. "Yeah, well, while you’re talking to the lights, the rest of us are having a funeral for Will! I’m not letting him sit in that freezer another day!" he shouted after her, his voice filled with a mixture of anger and grief.

A small crowd had gathered, watching the family with wide eyes. Jonathan turned to face them, his expression hardening. "All right, show’s over," he said tersely, dismissing them with a wave of his hand. The onlookers began to disperse, murmuring among themselves as they walked away.

Jonathan let out a deep, shaky breath, trying to calm himself. He turned back to the car, his steps heavy with the weight of the situation. Elizabeth followed behind him, her heart aching from the confrontation. She glanced back at their mother, who was now a distant figure.

𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐙𝐀𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐇 𝐋𝐀𝐘 𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐈𝐍 𝐁𝐄𝐃, staring up at the ceiling, her mind racing despite Jonathan’s insistence that she rest. He had left to make funeral arrangements, leaving her alone with her thoughts. The weight of recent events pressed down on her, and she couldn't shake the feeling of isolation.

She tossed and turned, unable to find comfort or peace. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw flashes of that creature emerging from the wall, its grotesque form etched into her mind. Fear gripped her heart, and she couldn't help but imagine it lurking in the shadows of her room.

With a frustrated sigh, Elizabeth sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. She slipped on her shoes and grabbed her Walkman from the bedside table.

She pressed play and let the music wash over her, the soothing melodies easing some of the tension in her shoulders.

The night was cool, with a gentle breeze that helped calm her nerves. She shoved her hands in her pockets, her steps echoing against the pavement as she made her way down the familiar roads. Her mind drifted back over the events of the day, trying to make sense of it all. Everything felt surreal—like the world had twisted, revealing a darkness lurking just beneath the surface. Will was gone, his body lying cold and lifeless, yet her mother insisted he was alive. And that… thing they’d seen — it was like a nightmare come to life. Elizabeth shuddered at the memory.

No matter how much she wanted to push it away, the creature’s distorted, inhuman face seemed burned into her mind. She hadn’t imagined it—  she couldn’t have. Her mom had seen it too. But even now, as she walked under the dim glow of the streetlights, the memory felt slippery, like a half-remembered dream that dissolved as soon as she tried to hold onto it.

As she walked, her thoughts drifted to Cameron. A part of her wanted to go to his house right now, to pound on his door and demand that he talk to her, that he just be there for her. She’d been so angry with him lately, but after everything that had happened, her anger felt small and hollow, swallowed by her grief and fear. She missed him, missed the way he always seemed to understand her without words. But now, she wasn’t sure where they stood. She wasn’t sure if he’d even want to see her.

She reached the end of a street and paused, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes. The air smelled of damp earth and leaves, grounding her a little. She didn’t know how long she stood there, just breathing, letting herself feel — the fear, the sadness, the lingering anger. Everything she’d been holding in seemed to spill out, yet somehow, it left her lighter.

Finally, she opened her eyes, and she knew what she had to do. Even if things between them were tense, even if they were barely speaking, she needed to talk to Cameron. She needed someone to listen — to help her make sense of this nightmare that had overtaken her life.