Chapter Text
(Her head was spinning and she could barely stay upright, before she saw Mike lying unconscious. She shook him awake, and he looked around frantic. Gears turned her head until she realised.
El.
With wobbly feet she ran back to the centre of the mall, Mike right behind her. She grabbed the walls, the furniture, mannequins, anything and hurled herself forward. El was on the floor, crying and begging, while Billy kept her down. It was hard to see much from where she was standing, but she could just tell; Billy was conscious. He was awake and in control, and they were about to win. She watched as he got up and turned before she realised. The monster was close. Its tentacles were reaching out, and she wanted to scream at him to run, but the words were gone. It was like her vocal cords were ripped out of her throat, and her limbs were frozen in place, and all she could do was watch, stare as the monster got closer and closer. And he just stood there, tall and fearless, hands open and welcoming and determination glazed over his eyes. She prayed to God, to anyone out there listening, that the gate would close right then. That the fireworks they were throwing would be the monster’s final blow. But alas, the clock was ticking faster, and her luck had run out.
She thought she could hear someone scream that they had run out of them. The last one landed and sparks flew all the same, but it bounced back. More tentacles formed from its body, wrapping around him. They grabbed him, and she watched helplessly as he wobbled with every hit. His white tank was drenched in sweat and disgusting goo, but he was dying.
He might have been screaming and she might have been screaming too, but she couldn’t tell because she was underwater. She was trying to swim up to the surface, but she was in too deep and it was way too late.
Her older brother was dying and there was nothing she could do about it but watch.
It raised one last tentacle, longer and larger than the rest, and stabbed him right in the chest. His head flew up and blood spilled all over his neck, staining his tank. His eyes blanked out and he fell backwards like a ragdoll, hitting the floor with a thud. The monster collapsed along with him, landing right by his side. They were mirrored, and they were both dying.
Tears streamed down her cheeks and she ran to his side. She shook him, his trembling body and prayed harder to anyone. She prayed that someone would listen, just this once, and leave her alone. She prayed for a miracle. He looked at her one last time, and it’s one that’s engraved in her mind forever. He whispered one last apology, words raw and raspy, before life faded away from his eyes.
And then he was dead.)
She jolted awake, bones trembling and adrenaline wearing off from the dream. Her limbs moved despite herself, steering her out into the hallway, She had to make sure Billy was alright. She threw the door open and glanced to the left, to where his white door was supposed to be.
It was supposed to be there, but it wasn’t.
The usually wooden floors were now grey carpet. The wallpaper was now dry wall, and a kitchen was in place of his room.
Then she remembered.
He was really gone. Her life was never going to be that white door with a noisy brother inside, or a climb down the staircase to a fresh breakfast. Because he was gone.
The memory of what happened hit her in strong, torturing waves. She was crying again, sinking down onto the floor of the dim-lit trailer and hands against her face. The pain wasn’t new, but it was as fresh as it’s always been. Her mom was struggling, drinking all the time to cope. Her stepdad had left the moment Billy turned out dead. Her house was gone, her brother was gone, and her life as she knew it was gone too. This was her life now, and it was because of her.
It should have been her instead. Why couldn’t they have taken her instead?
Her breaths were faster and the tears wouldn’t stop. She tightened her hand around the door frame to try to ground herself, but it wasn’t working. Her mind felt like a runaway train, her thoughts circling like frantic passengers. Her lungs burned and she wanted to scream. Why Billy? Why not her? She was the one who agreed to the monsters, the creepiness, the pain.
So why was it he who suffered?
She was in a dilapidated building, stains across the crumbling walls and the floors weakening beneath her. Her feet wobbled upon each step and she could still barely function, but rapid thoughts and feelings too big was injected in her like drugs, fueling her with the pure urge to escape. She couldn’t think of anything else but the sensation that ran around her mind like it was a racetrack. She needed to leave, before she felt like killing herself.
She could barely spare a glance at her passed-out mom before she grabbed her keys and ran.
She hadn’t fully realized that it was raining until water seeped into her clothes and filled her shoes. Each step splashed mud onto her already-dirty sneakers. She was in her own bubble, a protective shield around her deflecting the impact of the pouring rain. Her feet moved by themselves, dodging the trailers scattered across the area. They moved quickly and without hesitation, a stark contrast to the messy thoughts spinning through her mind. She could barely understand, much less identify what she was feeling. But what else could she be feeling but guilt?
Her brother dying was her fault. Her fault. She could try to prove that it wasn’t with every piece of evidence in the world, but there would be no use. She walked into this, fully knowing that there is no place you can enter without giving something in return.
He might have been screaming and she might have been screaming too, but she couldn’t tell because she was underwater. She was trying to swim up to the surface, but she was in too deep and it was way too late.
He screaming and she might screaming too, couldn’t tell underwater. swim up to the surface, she was in too deep it was way too late.
screaming underwater
in too deep way too late
—-
Before she knew it, she was on the street where Lucas and Mike lived. Even from far away, the Wheeler house stood out. Every house on the street illuminated a warm yellow light. Windows were shut tight, but silhouettes of families were clearly visible. In one house, there were two children playing with toys on the carpet. In another, there was a man and woman on a couch together. Each house was a warm hug or cookies freshly baked. Except the Wheelers.
She approached the house, staring down at her feet as they kept moving forward. Guilt began to settle in, housing itself into the one place it’s always been. She ran from her problems again. It’s always been like this. She ran from bullies, from glass shards littered on the floors, from her dad, from her hometown, and then from her brother. She ran away, just like she always had, expecting him to run too. But maybe he was always braver than her. Because he stood and stared at everything he once was and he didn’t run or fight back.
He gave up. He lay his sword down and took a strike to the heart to end it all. To end battles her friends had been fighting for years. And that was the bravest thing he could have ever done.
But she wasn’t like him at all. She ran away, just like she always did, and just like sh—
“Whoa, Max? Careful—uh, what are—what are you doing here?”
She looked up to see Lucas and Dustin.
---
She sighed, eyes kept on the Wheelers house. “Look, I have to visit someone, and I’d like to keep talking, but I really have to go and—” She gestured to the road, finishing her point. Lucas nodded slowly, body relaxing in defeat. Dustin, on the other hand, was staring at her with wide eyes.
“Wait—hold up, you’re going to go see Mike? I mean, nothing wrong with that—don’t get mad—it’s just, we kinda…pissed him off?”
“You what?”
Lucas grinned sheepishly, hand on his head. “Dustin said something stupid and he locked us out.”
Max rubbed her eyes, worry rising by the second. Gog knows what Mike could have done to himself. He already wasn’t doing the best, and he was alone, and he’s—
shit.
She groaned, telling the two off, before sprinting to Mike’s house. She tried the doorknob, but it was locked. She wracked her brains, trying to remember where Mike said the spare key was. A few seconds later, it came back to her.
She flipped a corner of the welcome mat, and a silver key lay underneath it. She grabbed it and shoved it into the knob hastily. It rattled a while before opening. Inside, the hallway was empty. Their footsteps echoed through the house as they split up to find him. She ran straight up to his bedroom while the other two searched around the first floor.
Her calves ached with the way she sprinted up the stairs, but she ignored them entirely. She swung each door open, yelling his name in the hopes she’d hear anything but the agonizing silence hanging in the air. The same silence that rang in her ears when he died.
What if he was dead?
Nonono that couldn’t be. Mike may have been bad the last time she saw him, but he wasn’t all that bad. He wouldn’t have. So why was she jinxing it? Why was she—
“MAX!”
Her name travelled into the room, freezing her in place. She jumped down the stairs to where Lucas’ voice came from. Or was it Dustin? She couldn’t tell, because all she could think about was what Mike said that one day.
“You know that one feeling that knots your stomach up? The type that leaves you worried about things that shouldn’t even really matter?” His body was angled towards me, but his eyes stayed fix on the wall behind her. They were dark and bland, an absence of the light inside them. They were almost similar to a war veteran, someone who had seen unruly things. In a way, maybe he was. Maybe the battles within him were enough to scar his gaze with pain.
She found herself spiraling into her thoughts, wondering what it would feel like to walk like the weight of every unsaid word hangs on your back. To have guilt, pain, humiliation, shame, all written in bold when you walk past every mirror you see. She knew what shame felt like, but what about the shame to eat? She’d never worried about that yet, and she was glad. It was almost like a curse upon every teenage girl. To hate the way you look so much you stop eating. But not just teenage girls, of course. Maybe everyone feels it.
She nodded at his words once she realized he was waiting for an answer. He continued, “It’s always there these days. I could be happy or sad or angry and it wouldn’t even matter, because it’s always there. It’s like it follows me, making everything taste sour. I know it sounds cliché, okay? It’s just—how do I make it go away? The only way I can think of is killing myself and I think I just might if doesn’t go away. Like—”
And then she sees Mike on the floor, breathing shallow and buried under his arms.