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Voices.
They were whispering in his ears as the others called for their last member, amply focusing on the task and unaware of the pull that Stanley felt in his gut. The same one that pulls him forward, farther from his place next to Ben, farther from the mouth of the tunnel, away from the commotion happening upside.
"Stanley..."
It ropes him in like a moth to a flame, leading him through dark tunnels, entirely entranced. They pull him the same way a child calls for their mother, leaving no space to refuse if you had half a brain. There was no room for vociferation from Stan.
Coming to an open space, he waves his flashlight from one side to the other, taking in a breath when he senses something moving.
"Guys?"
There's no response, and the spike of fear in Stan's being is so sudden it gives his mind whiplash. A small whimper tears through his chest as he carefully moves into the large pocket, turning to shine the flashlight in the tunnel behind him.
But there is no tunnel.
Stan's breath hitches, then it speeds up as he whirls back around at another whisper of his name.
"Stanley..."
The noise that follows it is familiar, and he knows that his friends won't get there in time once he sees her. The woman's teeth flash in his peripheral, and he whirls that way, flashlight clutched so tightly in his hand that his knuckles turn white.
She isn't there, but that doesn't mean his heart rate lowers any, or that he feels any relief.
He is alone, and with his experience, alone means nothing but bad. With the memory of his first encounter rising to the surface, he knows that he will most likely not get out unscathed this time.
"Stanley..."
The voice sounds closer than he thought it would, just over his shoulder. His heart beats so wildly in his chest that he thinks he might be dying already.
Then he turns around.
She is there.
There are lights, he thinks distantly. He thinks a lot of things as she lunges for him, as she grabs him, as her teeth dig into his face. He thinks about the losers and-
When he comes to, The others are standing over him. There is no relief at the sight of them. There is only terror and adrenaline running under his skin as he screams, remembering the lights.
"You left me!"
His sight blurs, and that one thought runs through his head, different forms with the same meanings repeating and repeating and repeating and repea-
"You made me go into Neibolt!"
He cannot feel their hands, can't feel the comfort they are trying to give him through the dirt of horror and panic covering every inch of him.
"You left me!" he sobs.
"You left me!"