do you ever feel like you're losing your mind?

@firstsacrifice​

              “  you know there’s nothing i wouldn’t do for you, right? “

but also 2 things:

1) chr.is.sy is decent at math but doesnt really like it

chrissy  doesn’t  remember  getting  up  and  going  into  the  living  room of the munsons’ trailer. she’d  fallen  asleep  curled  up  against  eddie’s  side,  everything  right  with  the  world,  if  only  for  a  moment.  after  all  they’d  been  through,  there  was  still  adversity  to  be  faced  on  the  other  side––  but  with  him,  there  can  be  peace.  sometimes,  for  a  moment,  everything  can  be  okay.  she  doesn’t  realize  that  anything  is  wrong  until  she  looks  down  and  sees  her  cheer  uniform.  there’s  no  way  she  would  have  gone  to  bed  in  that.  in  fact,  she  remembers  the  way  one  of  eddie’s  black  sabbath  t-shirts  had  swam  on  her  when  she  put  it  on,  how  it  smelled  like  him  even  though  it  was  clean.  chrissy  realizes,  then,  that  she  feels  him  gone––  a  strange  certainty  that  she’s  alone  in  the  trailer.

but  she  isn’t. she  hears  the  clock  strike,  and  cold  fear  shocks  through  her. she  has  been  here  before.  chrissy  remembers  looking  out  the  window,  the  way  the  night  sky  had  looked  orange,  the  trailer  park  deserted.  she  remembers  shutting  the  curtains  with  all  her  strength  like  that  would  be  enough  to  keep  the  monster  out.  she  needs  eddie,  needs  the  kindest  face  she’s  seen  all  year,  needs  the  person  who  had  spoken  to  her  for  about  ten  minutes  and  somehow  understood  her  better  than  she  ever  could  have  hoped  for.  her  feet  move  without  her,  jogging  her  body  to  his  bedroom  door  where  she  knows  she  won’t  find  him.  instead  she  sees  her  mother,  eyes  clouded  over  white,  voice  a  terrible  rasp  telling  her  how  beautiful  she’ll  look  in  her  uniform.

dread  sinks  in  heavy  when  chrissy  slams  the  door  and  finds  herself  at  home,  the  telltale  jiggling  of  her  doorknob  that  warns:  she’s  not  happy  with  you  anymore. now  she  is  angry.  chrissy  runs––  it’s  what  she  always  does  when  she  can’t  hide  any  longer––  down  to  her  father  in  the  living  room,  but  it’s  no  use.  it  never  has  been.  he  turns  to  her,  eyes  and  mouth  sewn  gruesomely  shut,  screaming  without  a  voice,  blind  to  her  peril.  every  horror  of  her  real  life  is  amplified  by  the  thousands  here,  right  down  the  doors  boarded  up,  keeping  her  trapped,  destined  to  die  in  a  house  that  has  never  been  a  home. 

chrissy  experiences  the  terror  double––  as  it  was  the  first  time:  fresh,  searing,  her  heartbeat  in  her  throat––  and  as  it  is  now:  the  miserable  sense  that  she  will  never  escape,  that  she  is  doomed  to  fight  uselessly  against  this  cycle  that  destroys  without  end.

she’s  turned  away  from  eddie  in  her  sleep.  chrissy  begins  to  whimper  and  shift  as  she  crashes  her  body  against  the  barricaded  door,  but  it’s  pointless.  the  creature  slogs  through  the  house,  wet,  heavy  footfalls  roaring  in  her  ears.  she  looks  into  that  awful  face  again,  fleshy,  inhuman.  chrissy  dreams  the  fear,  the  bone-deep  fright  of  death  breathing  down  her  neck–– but  for  a  moment,  she  dreams  the  relief,  too.  she  dreams  the  lie:  

                           it  is  time  for  your  suffering  to  end.

and  then  the  claws  sink  into  her  face,  gnarled  and  cruel. her  feet  begin  to  lift  off  the  ground  and  she  is  in  the  living  room  of  the  trailer  again,  watching  eddie  float  away  below  her,  her  voice  silent,  her  body  unmoving  as  she  screams  his  name,  thrashes  against  paralysis  to  reach  for  him.  she  feels  a  delirious  pain  as  her  bones  break, her  jaw  snaps  out  of  place,  the  pressure  in  her  eyes  like  her  head  will  burst–– 

and  then  she’s  waking,  confused,  sweating,  panting,  tangled  in  eddie’s  bedsheets.  her  hands  shake,  and  her  mouth  is  dry,  and  she  feels  too  weak  to  turn  over,  afraid  that  the  nightmare  isn’t  over  and  this  is  just  a  new,  undiscovered  chapter––  that  the  last  few  weeks  have  been  a  beautiful  dream,  and  she’s  back  where  she  had  been  all  that  time,  stuck  in  the  creature’s  mind,  bound  up  in  that  column  of  oozing  vines,  body broken  and  mind  soon  to  follow.  but  she  hopes  against  hope  and calls  to  him  again,  the  sound  of  her  own  voice  timid  and  broken. 

      chrissy  just  needs  to  take  a  walk.  that’s  what  she  keeps  telling  herself.  if  she  can  just  get  away  from  hackett’s  quarry  for  a  minute,  out  into  the  night  air  away  from  the  woods,  away  from  the  place  she  first  saw  the  old  woman,  she’ll  be  fine.  in  clear,  open  space,  there  won’t  be  any  shadowy  figures  or  strange  sounds  to  fill  her  mind,  to  make  her  afraid  to  sleep,  to  taunt  her  with  their  slippery  nature––  always  edging  just  out  of  her  sight,  just  out  of  earshot,  so  that  she  never  knows  if  she’s  losing  her  mind  or  not.  so  when  the  beam  of  a  flashlight  warms  the  back  of  her  neck  and  an  unfamiliar  voice  rings  out,  she  panics.  her  eyes  go  wide,  the  breath  snatched  from  her  chest.  when  the  sheriff  asks  her  what  she’s  doing  out  here,  she  hurriedly  explains  that  she’d  spoken  to  mr.  hackett  about  morning  runs,  that  she’s  going  to  college  on  a  cheer  scholarship  and  she  wants  to  make  sure  she  stays  in  fighting  shape.  it’s  not  entirely  a  lie––  in  fact,  it’s  technically  not  a  lie  at  all.  chris  hackett  had  indeed  reluctantly  given  her  permission  to  go  out  on  morning  runs...  that  just  wasn’t  why  she  was  out  here.  and  mr. hackett  certainly  hadn’t  okay-ed  a  4am  start  time.

         sightings   of   the   freak   at   school   events   were   rare   but   not   unheard   of.   it   wasn’t   like   hellfire   participated   exactly,   but   being   EXCLUDED   was   simply   not   to   be   stood   for   either.   it   gave   eddie   a   sort   of   thrill   to   see   the   light   leave   the   little   sheeps’   eyes   when   they   saw   him   darken   their   otherwise   happy   fanfare.   not   that   he   showed   up   to   homecoming   solely   to   ruin   it   for   everyone   else,   but   it   was   a   nice   bonus   to   say   the   least.   the   guys   had   all   went   their   separate   ways,   taking   in   the   various   options   the   various   booths   and   activities   offered.   eddie   was   sort   of   wandering,   unsure   where   he   wanted   to   go   next.   he’d   had   his   cotton   candy   and   balloon,   now   he   was   getting   the   feeling   that   it   was   time   to   pack   it   up   and   go   on   home.   that   was   until   chrissy   flagged   him   down.   of   course   she   was   hosting   the   kissing   booth,   and   he   had   to   fight   to   roll   his   eyes   at   the   torture   of   a   presented   opportunity.   he’d   only   been   in   love   with   her   since   middle   school.   no   big   deal.   ed   saluted   with   a   half   wave   and   jogged   lazily   over,   not   stopping   at   the   neatly   crafted   box   the   squad   had   commissioned   from   shop   class,   no   doubt.   he   kicked   his   legs   up   over   the   ledge   and   sat   criss-crossed   on   top   of   the   framed   booth   she   perched   in.   chin   under   his   folded   knuckles,   he   looked   wickedly   angellic   and   nonchalant.   ”hi,   fancy   seeing   you   here.“   it   was   his   best   attempt   at   being   cool.   he   knocked   one   hand   to   the   wooden   frame   and   returned   to   his   relaxed   position   in   front   of   her.   "they   got   you   locked   up   good   and   tight   in   here,   huh?   need   to   bust   out?”   his   hands   fell   once   again   as   if   to   present   himself   as   the   perfect   escape   route.   “not   to   brag   or   nothing,   but   i’m   the   man   for   the   job.”

chrissy  is  nestled  happily  away  into  a  corner  of  eddie’s  room,  her  knees  tucked  up  to  her  chest  as  a  makeshift  desk  for  her  diary.  she’s  running  through  the  events  of  the  last  couple  of  days,  sometimes  pausing  her  work  to  doodle  in  the  margins  or  gaze,  doe-eyed,  at  eddie  who  sits  on  his  bed,  fiddling  dutifully  with  his  guitar  as  he  works  on  a  new  song.  but  she  can  see  him  begin  to  drift  from  focused  to  frustrated.  it  doesn’t  make  her  upset;  chrissy  only  ever  wants  the  best  for  eddie,  but  she  knows  that  making  things––  anything  from  a  rock  song  to  a  cheer  routine––  can  be  frustrating.

her  book  snaps  gently  shut  around  her  pen,  &  she  discards  it  on  the  floor  as  soon  as  eddie  puts  his  guitar  away.  things  are  better  now  that  they  have  each  other,  but  chrissy’s  reappearance  was  no  magic  spell.  people  still  hate  eddie,  still  blame  him  for  a  crime  he  didn’t  commit,  a  crime  for  which  the  real  perpetrator  will  probably  never  pay,  all  evidence  of  it  reduced  to  a  dark  cloud,  phantom  pains,  nightmares  that  they  both  have  to  suffer  through.