electric and eclectic

Because Vecna didn’t want you to die. He knew that you living while Eddie wasn’t, your heart beating while the melody of his had forever been muted, was the cruelest fate he could have chosen for you, the perfect punishment.

The day the Mind Flayer – Vecna – had gotten you, at the old steel mill, the darkness possessing your body, numbing your muscles and senses and mind, was nothing compared to what you were feeling right now, curled up against Eddie’s side, your head resting on the spot below his collarbone, his blood still warm as it soaked your hair and mingled with your tears.

Agony and numbness. An eternal, abysmal ocean of it, drowning you within.

As the numbness spread through your body and soul, the black mist of the powers you’d stolen from Vecna nestling closer against your mind like a cat sensing your distress, so powerful yet so powerless against the force that was death itself, you pressed your face into the crook of Eddie’s neck, the side where the bats hadn’t ripped away his skin with their teeth, and wept your silent tears into his soft curls tickling your cheeks.

Your fingers brushed against the soft silk of your green ribbon still tied around Eddie’s wrist.

Taking you back to the moment your path had crossed Eddie Munson’s for the first time.

[Friday, September 2nd, 1983. THEN.]

You were nervous. So, so very nervous.

It was a game day – your first game day as a cheerleader, and the whole day had felt as if someone had strapped your nerves onto a never-ending roller coaster ride.

Hawkins High had turned into a sea of green and orange and white, like every game day. you were wearing your cheerleader uniform for the first time.

The effect had been instant.

People had been smiling at you in the hallways. Some you’d never talked or even seen before had greeted you by your name in passing – and when Stacey Campbell had passed you by without batting an eye, without a single malicious word, without shoving her elbow in your ribs or pushing you aside, the little green skirt and matching top of the Tigers cheer uniform like battle armor turning you invincible, the bullied little middle school girl inside had taken a few moments to realize nobody was ever going to lock you up in a supply closet ever again.

By the time you entered the cafeteria and plopped down at the table Nance and Barb were already lounging at, your gaze flitted to Nancy, who was wearing the most non-Nancy outfit you’d ever seen her in – she’d donned a Hawkins Tigers shirt, and a green-and orange ribbon was holding her chocolate-colored hair in a high ponytail.

“King Steve Harrington has asked her out on a date tonight after the game,” Barb explained with a smirk, and Nancy’s beam widened

“You look stunning,” Nancy grinned, giving you a once-over.

“Wait – Steve Harrington,” you echoed, “The Steve Harrington?”

“How many Steve Harringtons do we know?”, Barb chuckled, taking a swig of her apple juice. “Which means Nance is going to be a princess.”

You placed your elbows on the table, leaning a little closer towards Nancy, the euphoria you’d felt moments ago replaced by worry as you followed your friend’s surreptitious gaze over to the table where the basketball team had assembled – to Steve Harrington, the team’s captain, who was currently busy raking a hand through his admittedly luscious curls, before you said, “Nance…you know Steve is a…”

“Womanizer?”, Barb suggested. “I already told her.”

Nancy’s dreamy expression vanished as she met your stern gaze.

“He was with Becky Brown last week,” you said, “And with Amy Miller the week before.”

“Don’t forget Hannah –“

“I get it,” Nancy interrupted Barb’s interjection. “I get it, okay? But I think he really likes me.”

“Until he got in your pants and moves on to the next nudge in his belt,” Barb said.

“Listen,” you said softly, placing your hand over Nancy’s on the table, “We’re not trying to talk you out of dating him –“

“Yes, we are.”

You threw Barb a warning sideways glance, who gave you a little shrug.

“We just want you to be careful, Nance. That’s all. Just be careful, okay?”

There was a beat of silence, before Nancy gave you a little nod, and the smile returned to her face – albeit less radiant than before and a little frayed at the edges – before she exchanged a glace with Barb and said, “We got something for you.”

“For me?”

“Just a little something. It’s your big day, after all.”

With a smile, Barb pulled something from her backpack, placing it on the table in front of you. It was a little box of robins-egg blue velvet, just the size to fit into your palm.

“Open it,” Nancy urged with a smile, and you obliged – and your own smile widened as you opened the box’s lid and your eyes fell on the thing inside.

Nestled on tissue paper, there was a hair ribbon, the soft green silk a color of the most vibrant dark green. Much prettier than the standard-issue scrunchie of the cheerleading uniform holding your hair back right now.

“We thought it would be nice, for you to have a little lucky charm,” Barb smiled as you let out a little squeal, already jumping from your seat to hug your friends.

“Want me to help tie it into your hair?”, Nancy grinned, and you gave a happy little nod, already moving to pull the scrunchie from your hair as Nancy shuffled in her seat beside you, gesturing for you to turn your back to her.

When she was busy tying the ribbon into your hair, your gaze scanned the crowd in the cafeteria, and a little laugh bubbled from your lips. “I can’t believe it. Nance is going on a date with Steve the Hair Harrington himself and I’m an actual cheerleader.”

“I’ll stay the nerd who makes sure you both keep your feet on the ground,” Barb chuckled, righting her glasses, “So you won’t forget to stay humble with all your newfound fame.”

“Done,” Nancy announced, and you turned to look at your friends.

“How do I look?”

“Like the most beautiful cheerleader to ever have graced these sacred halls,” Barb winked, and you struck a little pose to make them both giggle, before your face turned serious again.

Freshman year had been calm, uneventful. Peaceful. But sophomore year…

Just like the September sun shining outside was losing some of its summer-brightness, the late-summer air already laced with a cool breeze as the first leaves in the patch of woods behind the sports field were changing their vibrant green into shades of yellow already, you could feel change in the air.

As if something was going to end.

Childhood, maybe.

And all of a sudden, you were scared to lose them, those two girls you’d grown up alongside, sisters more than best friends at this point. That the tides of life would pull you apart, send you afloat on different routes like pieces of flotsam to carry each of you to shores too far apart from another to ever cross the ocean opening up between them.

“Let’s make a promise,” you said suddenly, “That no matter what happens, we’ll stay together.”

“You really know how to be optimistic,” Barb quipped, “Not very cheerful of you.”

“I mean it,” you pressed, stretching out your hand into the middle of the table, “Pinkie-swear. None of us gets left behind. No drifting apart. Not for a guy, not for anything. We’ll stay together, whatever happens. Okay?”

“Promise,” Nancy said with a smile, hooking her pinkie around yours, Barb joining in with a soft grin of her own, “I don’t plan on going anywhere.”

“Eighty-three,” you grinned. “It’s going to be our year. I can feel it.”

For a heartbeat, the three of you stayed like this, pinkies hooked.

Then, your stomach rumbled.

“Okay, I should get my lunch,” you announced, getting up from the table.

There was no line anymore at the serving counter, and even the cafeteria woman smiled at you when she placed the lunch on your tray, and your smile widened at the sight of the bowl of strawberry Jell-O for dessert. Your favorite.

With feathery steps, you returned to your table, the lunch tray in your hands, as you felt the tug of your new silk ribbon loosening, your hair coming lose, and the tray clutched in your hands you froze mid-movement to whirl around and scan the ground for the ribbon – as someone bumped into you. Hard.

And the tray was pushed against your chest, peas raining all around you like confetti and strawberry Jell-O spilling all over the shirt of your cheerleading uniform as you let out a startled gasp.

For a few heartbeats, you stayed frozen in place, staring down at the huge red stain of Jell-O decorating the once white fabric of the shirt of your brand-new cheerleader uniform, right at the center.

Your head snapped up, meeting a pair of startled brown eyes.

“Shit,” the guy breathed.

In the sea of orange and green and white, he stood out like a black sheep among a flock of white ones – though he would have stood out anywhere even on a regular school day.

He was clad in black. Black ripped jeans, black shirt, the name on it that of a band you’d never heard of, flashing out from beneath the lapels of his black leather jacket – and his hair was so long that it spilled over his shoulders, a mess of wild dark curls brushing his collarbones, curly bangs falling into his forehead to frame his pale face, his features caught in a mask of silent dread as he stared back at you with the most stunning eyes you’d ever seen.

They were a dark brown, like burnt sugar, or whiskey; and wide with shock.

“I’m – sorry,” he said, the softness in his voice and the shock on his face not matching the menacing exterior.

He was…handsome.

In that strange, roughed up way.

You wondered how you’d never noticed him before. Probably because you were a sophomore and he was…a junior? Or a senior, even? But still, with a look like that, you’d have definitely remembered if you’d seen him before.

And he was obviously waiting for you to say something.

“It’s okay,” you breathed, a slow smile tucking at your lips to your own surprise, “I was thinking the shirt could use a bit more color.”

And the shock vanished from the guy’s face before his lips curved into a timid, surprised smile.

It was the most radiant smile you’d ever seen – and your heart did a weird little somersault in your chest. It felt like that feeling in a roller-coaster, right before the drop.

Feeling warmth creep into your cheeks, you grabbed the tray with your spilt lunch a little harder and turned to go, as the guy called out, “Wait! You, uh, lost your –“

You whirled back around to face him, just as he cut himself off and bent down to pick something from the floor.

And with that shy, radiant smile still on his lips, he extended his hand, your new green silk ribbon in his palm.

You’d completely forgotten about the ribbon, the very reason you’d stopped and he’d bumped into you.

“Oh. Yeah,” you breathed, switching the tray to one hand to reach out with the other. “Thanks.”

When you took the ribbon from his palm, your eyes never leaving his dark ones, your fingertips grazed his skin.

The touch was fleeting, less than the brush of a feather, but it sent a jolt of electricity through you and sent your heart on another roller coaster ride.

The ribbon in one hand, the tray in the other, you turned and walked away, cheeks burning and rallying all your willpower not to throw a glance over your shoulder to see if he was still standing there, staring at you – and you didn’t need to, because you could feel his gaze still on you, burning at your back.

“What was that?”, Barb inquired when you placed the tray with your ruined lunch on the table before you plopped back down in your seat.

“Nothing,” you smiled.

“That was Eddie The Freak,” Nancy said.

“Wait, you know the guy?”

“It’s hard to miss him.”

“I heard he’ll have to repeat his senior year,” Barb said, her voice taking on a conspirational tone.

So he was a senior. Two years older than you, or one and a half? Was he eighteen already?

Why did you even care?

“You probably haven’t seen him before because he’s a slacker,” Nancy mused, “No wonder he has to repeat senior year. By the time we graduate, he’s probably Hawkins High inventory.”

You made an unintelligible noise in response, before you threw a glance back over your shoulder.

He was gone. Vanished in the sea of green and orange and white he’d emerged from.

Your gaze flitted down to the green silk ribbon in your palm, thumb flicking over the soft fabric as you remembered that jolt of electricity shooting through your nerves as your fingers had grazed his palm.

And you couldn’t help but wonder, for a brief little moment, whether Eddie The Freak had felt it, too.

[Thursday, March 28th, 1986.

ONE MINUTE PAST MIDNIGHT.]

Eddie’s gaze wasn’t resting on the crimson D&D dice in his palm anymore – it was locked on the vibrant dark green color of the silken ribbon you’d tied around his wrist, catapulting him back to the day he’d first met you.

Not in the woods, but in the cafeteria.

He hadn’t forgotten a single second of that brief, shared moment, the radiant smile you’d given him.

But it was only now that he realized the ribbon which had come loose and fallen from your hair that day, fluttering to the ground to make you turn and bump into him…it had been this very same ribbon.

It hadn’t simply always come back to you – it had brought Eddie to you, as well. Or you to him.

Because hadn’t you bumped into each other that day in the cafeteria two years ago, hadn’t you given him one of those smiles that turned his insides into jelly and made his heart do backflips any cheerleader would have been proud of…Eddie wouldn’t have started to search for you in the crowded hallways, eager to catch a glimpse of that beautiful smile again and wishing to see it directed at him once more.

And if he hadn’t spent so much time looking for you…he wouldn’t have seen you disappear into the woods that night last September when he was waiting to do a drug deal in the Hawkins High parking lot. He also wouldn’t have seen Jason following you.

Back then, Eddie had followed because he’d thought you needed help, that you were running away from Jason.

How could he have guessed that you hadn’t even noticed Jason because you’d been running from another monster, one which was torturing your mind?

The very same monster watching Eddie now, with those disturbing forget-me-not-blue eyes.

In the time Eddie had stared at the ribbon, he had grown – from the little boy into a man in his early thirties.

“Henry Creel,” Eddie said.

Henry’s smile was even more unsettling than before, matching the honeyed timbre of his tone as he assessed softly, “You know who I am.”

“And you know who I am.”

“Edward.”

Eddie flinched a little at the sound of the name.

It didn’t escape Henry’s notice.

“Edward. A good, classic name. Yet, you despise it with all your heart. Because it was your father’s choice.”

Eddie remained silent, lacing his glare with all the hatred for this human-turned-monster in front of him that he could muster.

Henry, Vecna, chuckled again. “You don’t want anything to do with the man who sired you – but I wonder…why?” His voice morphed into a dark croon. “Daddy would be so proud of you. Look what’s become of you, hm? Your third attempt to graduate. A drug dealer, following in your old man’s footsteps. Known by the police long before they started hunting you for murder. Stealing that camper, just like he taught you. Poor little Eddie. The only thing you’ve ever been proud of running away from – only to realize the path has led you right back to where you were always supposed to end.”

Henry tilted his head as he waited for Eddie to reply.

It reminded Eddie of a cat stalking a mouse.

That’s what he was. A tiny little field mouse dangling in this beast of prey’s claws.

He wouldn’t give Henry the satisfaction of showing a reaction to the taunts, of letting himself be goaded like that. Eddie was dead. And Henry Creel was nothing but a schoolyard bully. He’d dealt with this kind of person his whole life.

“Cat got your tongue, curly-head?”, Henry taunted, his voice as sweet honey as if that could somehow conceal the evil abysses of those unsettling eyes.

“What do you want me to say?” Eddie’s fist tightened around the crimson D&D dice, its plastic edges digging into his palm. “Goldilocks.”

Henry’s unsettling smile grew. “My, you’re feisty.”

“Nope. Just dead.”

Eddie hadn’t thought he had it in him, this sass in the face of evil.

But where panic had resided in his chest…there was only rage left. Fury.

“Are you done?”, Eddie inquired, schooling his expression into an unreadable mask matching Henry’s. Because Henry Creel might have been the dungeon master of this game…but Eddie refused to play along.

“Oh, but I haven’t even started yet, little songbird,” Henry crooned, in this calm, low voice that was so deeply upsetting, “How am I supposed to call you, if Edward is not to your liking?”

As if on cue, there were voices in Eddie’s head, a chorus of whispers chiming and chanting all the ugly names the kids at school had given him over the years. The adults, too, oftentimes.

Trailer park trash. Sewer rat. Weirdo. Freak.

Eddie’s hands flew up to clamp over his ears, drown them out.

But amidst the ugly choir of voices calling him names, there was another one, soft and loving. Your voice, as beautifully familiar as the words on the pages of his worn-out copy of Lord Of The Rings, piercing through whatever malicious spell Henry had cast over him.

The way Eddie’s name sounded on your lips when you laughed, when you called out for him in greeting, your eyes lighting up. When you paused in between kisses to tell him you loved him –

“Do you know what it means, your name?”, Henry drawled, placing his hands on the back of the carved Dungeon Master throne. Eddie’s Dungeon Master throne. But Eddie wasn’t the one calling the shots anymore.

“It means protector.” Henry chuckled.

“You’re dead,” Eddie hissed. He was still surprised he wasn’t trembling like a leaf.

But he knew where the rage was coming from.

It was all the bottled-up fury for what Vecna had done to you, to Max, to all the others, and to him. Eddie had never felt so much rage in his entire goddamn life.

Henry chuckled, a soft sound that travelled through this unnatural, abysmal darkness surrounding the two of them.

“The little thief seems to be a little liar, too. You’ve lost. Your friends will die. And the ground is swallowing Hawkins as we speak.”

No.

If Henry was telling the truth –

A gentle breeze brushed Eddie’s cheeks, and something appeared at the side of the table.

Another wooden chair, less intricate than the Dungeon Master’s throne at the head of the table.

And chained to the chair by writhing black creepers that wrapped around her wrists, clamped over her lips to mute her, over her eyes –

“Max,” Eddie breathed.

He should have known that something horrible would await him when Henry didn’t move to hold him back.

But all rational thoughts were drowned out by Eddie’s panic as he darted towards Max and ripped away the vines covering Max’s mouth, the creepers falling away far too easily.

“Eddie?”

It was a broken whisper, a stir of the air more than an actual sound.

“Y- yeah,” Eddie breathed, “It’s me. I’m here, Max. Right here. I got you, red.”

He moved on to the vines covering the girl’s eyes, his nails digging into the slick black tissue of the creepers covering her eyes – and it took all of Eddie’s willpower to bite back the scream lodged at the back of his throat as the vines finally fell away, revealing Max’s eyes.

White as the floating spores of the Upside Down, weeping blood.

“It’s so dark,” she half-whispered, half-sobbed. “It’s so dark. Why is it so dark?”

It sounded so unlike the little redhead.

So forlorn and…broken.

“Why is it so dark?!”

“We’re…” Dead. We’re dead, and you’re blind. He couldn’t tell her that. But he couldn’t lie, either. He couldn’t tell her everything would be okay.

“Dead,” Henry finished the sentence.

No, Eddie wanted to scream. We’re not dead.

But Eddie knew Vecna was telling the truth. He remembered it all. The agony, the blood. His eyes finding yours for one last time, one last I love you.

And if Max was dead…the wall between worlds had crumbled away.

Vecna…Vecna had won.

And his monster slayer, the brave new family he’d found, his uncle and his friends in Hellfire, the entire goddamn town of Hawkins…they were in horrible danger.

A choked, broken sob ripped from Max’s lips as those blind eyes, wide with terror, tried to find him.

“I’m here,” Eddie soothed, panic subverted by all his senses screaming at him to protect as he moved to rip away the creepers tying her wrists to the chair’s wooden armrests. “I’m here, ‘kay? You’re not alone, Max.”

“Edward the protector,” Henry drawled. “Always looking out for the – how do you call them? Lost little sheep? Are you a shepherd, Edward? Or are you just another of those lost sheep, hiding beneath the fur of a wolf? I thought we’d settled that you’re a runner, not a fighter, hm? A coward, not a hero.”

It was hard to block out Henry’s words, mingling with Max’s broken whimpers as Eddie tore and ripped at the creepers tying the girl to the chair. He could hear the soft splash of water indicating Henry’s soft footsteps as he drew closer and closer, until his voice chimed up from right behind Eddie’s shoulder, close enough for chills to race down Eddie’s spine.

“I have seen your heart, Edward Munson. I’ve seen your doubts. Your insecurities, the parts you so desperately tried to hide away from the world. Now it’s only fair of me to share my little secret with you, hm?” Henry leaned in, closer, so close that Eddie felt his breath stirring his curls as the man-turned-monster whispered, “It was me who brought your monster slayer to you.”

Eddie’s head snapped up to meet the eerie forget-me-not-blue of Henry’s gaze.

His head was tilted to the side like a curious cat’s as he waited for Eddie’s reply.

“You’re a liar.”

“I am many things,” Henry chuckled, “But a liar? No.” The feline smirk on his lips widened. “I put all these hallucinations in her head, you know that already. Drove her into madness. And right into your arms. You know, to hit her where it hurt the most, to take something as valuable from her as she’s taken from me…she needed to possess something so valuable at first. And who would have been a better choice than the boy who has been pining for her for so long? All your longing glances in the hallways when she was passing by. During lunchbreaks while you were sitting at the other side of the cafeteria, wishing it was you who was graced with those smiles. Wondering whether you’d ever get to know what made her laugh so beautifully. I drove her right into your arms, Eddie. And now I took you away again.”

Eddie knew exactly what Henry was doing.

Sewer rat. Trailer trash. Weirdo. Freak.

Henry had seen right into Eddie’s heart, all the doubts and insecurities he’d locked in there like a swarm of bats in a cave, and now he was using them like he had used his swarm of monster bats.

And the deeper Eddie had fallen for you, the more he’d doubted.

If you don’t trust yourself, trust me. That’s what he’d told you yesterday. That’s what Eddie would do now. He didn’t trust himself. But he trusted you.

Rising from the floor, Eddie positioned himself between Max’s slumped form in her chair and Henry, who was still waiting for Eddie’s reply to his cruel taunts.

“I liked you more when you were just a rotting corpse in an old attic, you know,” Eddie hissed, fury conquering fear. For now. Eddie felt it would only be a temporary sentiment.

But Henry only chuckled.

“Who was there who ever really loved you, Eddie? Mommy, who preferred her pixie dust over her own son? Daddy, who hoped you’d drown and spare him the trouble when he threw you into the water of the bayou to teach you to swim? Your uncle, who was forced to take you in because there was nobody else who would have wanted you, like a flea-infested stray kicked away from the front door?”

“My uncle loves me.”

“And did he choose you?”

“He would,” Eddie breathed, “He did.”

“He chose to not suffer a guilty conscience for the rest of his days. Or do you truly think it was Wayne’s dream, to raise a kid that wasn’t his own because his good-for-nothing brother didn’t care enough to do it himself? To be stuck working through the nights to provide for a kid he never even wanted to raise?” Henry took a step closer towards Eddie, closing the remaining distance as Eddie froze in his spot, hackles raised but holding his ground as he kept himself placed between Max and the monster.

“She loves me,” Eddie breathed. “She chose me.”

“Oh, she did. And at what cost? She wishes she’d never met you. ‘I will always, always come back to you’. That’s what you promised,” Henry drawled, taking Eddie’s hand in his icy ones as his fingers, strangely elongated, toyed with the green silk ribbon you’d tied around Eddie’s wrist as he added, “An empty promise.”

“So that’s what you do with your almighty powers?”, Eddie said quietly, pulling his hand out of Henry’s icy grasp, “Stalking people in their most private moments like some perv?”

The unsettling smile grew.

“All your anger will not change the fact that you failed her, Eddie. Your monster slayer. And all the rest of them.”

Henry raised his hand.

The scream which ripped from Max’s lips made Eddie whirl around to the little redhead, to the creepers which had ripped her out of the wooden chair, dragging her towards the pillar rising from the darkness behind her like the trunk of a tree, her blind eyes white as she screamed and Eddie darted after her, hands clasping her small ones, so cold in his own as he tried to pull her out of the vines’ unrelenting grip.

To no avail.

Eddie fell backwards as with a final tug, Max’s hand slid out of his grasp.

“No,” Eddie cried, scrambling to get up from the ground, but it was too late, anyway.

Max was pinned to her pillar, the black vines creeping over her mouth to mute her wails as Henry stepped in front of Eddie, blocking his path to the redhead.

“In the end, you never managed to protect anyone, Edward The Protector,” the monster teased softly. “The town is hunting your lost sheep down for their affiliation with you. The boy you wanted to protect from the mockery and scorn you faced yourself? He will die, just like the rest of all the others who’ve come so foolishly to this realm to kill me. And the girl you so desperately wanted to protect, gave your lifetime to add a few more seconds to hers – your monster slayer?”

Henry raised his hand anew, cold palm brushing over Eddie’s eyes too fast for Eddie to take a step back and shrink away from the freezing touch, and his vision slipped, the void and the D&D table, Max and Henry, gone as images invaded his mind like a swarm of paper planes.

For a few seconds, Eddie couldn’t make sense of what it was Henry was showing him, flitting shadows and swirling splotches of white.

Until he realized that he saw a fragment of the world from bird’s eye view.

Bat’s eye view.

He saw what the swarm saw, locked into the hivemind.

They were drawing circles in the air like those plastic horses on a carousel at the fairground. And in the center, as frozen and still as the scene in a polaroid picture…

There was his monster slayer.

Slumped on the ground, curled up against his side.

It would have looked almost peaceful, like a couple taking a nap in the grass under a star-splattered night sky.

Only that the grass was dead and soaked with blood, a dark pool of it, and that there were no stars in the eternal dark skies arching over the Upside Down.

Only winged monsters.

There were spores drifting down to catch in your hair, in his own dark curls, on his lashes as Eddie met his own unseeing gaze, trained skywards at the fluttering swarm.

The way your eyes were squeezed shut, silent tears streaming down your cheeks, your face nuzzled into the curve between his shoulder and neck and your hand resting on the silk ribbon tied around…it shattered him into a million pieces.

“She’s as dead as you are, Edward,” Henry cooed, snapping Eddie back out of the hivemind, umber eyes meeting forget-me-not-blue ones. “The moment your heart stopped beating. She’s dying, with every second she sobs over your body. Crumbling away. Piece by piece, like dandelion seeds scattered in the wind. If I offered her to erase her memories of you, do you think she would agree to the deal? Better off to never have met you at all?”

As much as it hurt…Eddie would want you to agree. Just forget him, move on. Live the life you’d never gotten to live.

“That’s what I’m offering you,” Henry crooned now, taking Eddie’s hand to press something into his palm.

The crimson D&D dice. Eddie must’ve let go of it when he’d tried to free Max.

“Play a little game with me, Eddie Munson. If I win…well, I already did.” Henry’s smile turned cruel. “But if you win, I will grant you one single act of kindness. If you win, I will take away your monster slayer’s pain. I will free her of the heartbreak and grief over your loss that will cast the darkest of shadows upon the rest of her days, however many of those might be left.”

Henry stepped closer, index finger locking under Eddie’s chin to force him to hold the gaze of those cold eyes.

“How?”, Eddie breathed.

“It is quite simple, little songbird,” Henry crooned. “In fact…it was you who sparked the idea.”

Before Eddie could recoil, Henry raised his free hand – and with the tap of his index finger on Eddie’s forehead, the darkness of the void shifted.

Gone were Max and the D&D table.

Replaced by…trees.

Sunlight was filtering through the crown of the trees surrounding him, making Eddie squint in the sudden brightness as the leaves rustled in the gentle autumn breeze which carried the scents of burning firewood, the chill heralding another freezing Indiana winter while the warmth of the scorching summer of 1985 was still clinging to the air.

Eddie knew this wasn’t real. A memory, as if Henry had scoured his mind like one would a video store. And the memory he’d picked was one of the happiest Eddie possessed.

He knew exactly which memory it was.

Eddie was standing in the middle of the woods, in the little clearing, right beside the picnic table.

And there was music.

All around, weaving with the autumn air and the rustling leaves, Eddie’s favorite song.

“Remember yesterday - walking hand in hand Love letters in the sands - I remember you.”

And there you were. Eyes sparkling in the golden rays of the afternoon sun as you smiled while Eddie watched himself twirl you across the carpet of fallen leaves.

“And through the sleepless nights, through every endless day.”

“It hasn’t always been your favorite song,” Henry drawled from behind Eddie. “But it was, after that day.”

“I wanna hear you say, I remember you.”

Just when Henry’s calm, dark voice chimed up from behind again, it dawned on Eddie what the monster with the forget-me-not-blue eyes was offering him.

“I will erase you from her memories, Edward.”

“That’s not in your power,” Eddie breathed, tearing his eyes away from you and him, caught in your own little world, whirling around to face Henry.

“I told you, I am many things. But I am no liar.”

Eddie could see the truth in those forget-me-not-blue eyes.

A cruel game, befitting for a cruel Dungeon Master.

“It’s up to you, Edward. She will forget you,” Henry continued in his low, gentle voice so opposed to the malice of his words, shining in his unsettling eyes, as the colors of the woods started bleeding away, the tunes of the song fading until the darkness of the Void, the D&D table and Max’s slumped, lifeless form chained to the pillar were back. “She will move on and find happiness. Or she will remember you, the way you died in her arms while she was forced to watch. One more demon to haunt her in her sleep, in every waking hour. Oh, the irony, that after all I’ve put her through, the thing that broke her…” Henry smiled, “Would not be me, but her love for you.”

Eddie’s mind flitted back to the moment you’d been caught in Vecna’s curse, the words which had spilled not from his lips but his heart.

“And even though it hurts like hell to even think of you with someone else, you need to wake up now so you can find this person you can do all these things with and share your life and be happy with, okay? ’Cause no matter how fucking much it destroys me to know that this beautiful smile of yours will be for someone else, that you’ll crack Yoo-Hoo jokes and watch movies and discover the world and build a life and dance and laugh with someone else, you need to come back to do all these things, monster slayer.”

“How will you decide, Eddie? Haunt her – or try and set her free?”

Eddie had meant those words. Every single one.

And he still did. Of course he did.

A single tear rolled down his cheek as he opened his fist to stare at the dice nestled in his palm.

And with newfound determination, Eddie lifted his gaze to meet Henry Creel’s.

“Let’s play.”

***

One hand laced with Eddie’s, your other hand wrapped around the guitar pick dangling from the necklace Eddie had given you. The edges of the smooth plastic were digging into your palm as you clutched it like a lifeline.

But there was nothing that could save you from drowning in the abyss that had opened up in your chest.

That was the first guitar pick I ever had, did you know that? With that thing, I learned to play guitar. It was a shitty old acoustic guitar my uncle got from a yard sale. The guitar pick was part of the package. It’s been my lucky charm ever since and I guess it worked because I’m here, with the girl of my dreams who, for some weird reason, loves me back.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

You’d fought so hard to rewrite Eddie’s stars, his story. Write him a happy ending instead of a tragic one.

And still, it hadn’t been enough.

Get up, you wanted to scream at Eddie. You need to get up. Please, please, please get up.

But Eddie wouldn’t.

He would never again play guitar, smile softly in concentration as his slender fingers pulled the strings. He would never again play D&D and plan campaigns while drinking bottle after bottle of Yoo-Hoo. He’d never again scribble little doodles on the edges of his school notes and books, tongue poking out as he focused. He’d never again read Lord Of The Rings or watch Star Wars, laugh about Dustin’s jokes or dream up worlds and characters in this beautiful, clever mind of his.

He'd never graduate.

Never live the life he’d wanted to live.

The young man who had chosen to be kind when the world had shown him so much scorn, who’d kept his softness when he so easily could have let the cruelty he’d faced sharpen his edges, who’d tried so hard to make the best of the cards fate had dealt him because he’d wanted to be better than whatever his father had tried to make of him. Eddie, whose warmth had never been extinguished by the coldness the world had shown him…he was gone.

Just like that.

Because Vecna had taken him away to punish you.

Eddie had been your sun to light the day and the moon to illuminate the night and the stars to guide you through the dark.

And with his light forever snuffed out, there was only eternal darkness left.

Spreading through your chest like the Mind Flayer had all those months ago, freezing and tar-black and abysmal.

And all the power you’d ripped away from Vecna, stolen…it wasn’t enough to bring Eddie back, put the light back into those beautiful umber eyes which had always shimmered with so much warmth and kindness. Eyes which were forever hollow and unseeing now, trained at the sky bleeding crimson lightning, framed by the dark cloud of the swarm of bats still flitting around you in circles.

And finally, the scream which had been building in your chest, in the darkness where your heart had been…it ripped free.

Of anguish and grief and loss and pain.

So much pain.

Clawing at your insides, ripping you apart as your voice filled the silence of the Upside Down.

And a shriek answered.

And another, and another, a chorus of anguished screeches answering your scream from all around you.

Your eyes flew open and you angled your head, your cheek still resting against Eddie’s collarbone as your gaze locked on the sky above.

Through the veil of your tears, it took a moment for you to realize what it was you were seeing.

Fire.

Hailing from the skies like falling stars.

***

“The rules are simple,” Henry smiled as he slowly sunk into his Dungeon Master’s throne at the head of the table. “You roll the dice three times. If you land a twenty…you’ve won. If not…”

Henry raised his hand, and the darkness of the void all around them dissolved, making room for colors.

Well, one color.

Red.

The deep, dark color of fresh blood spilling from a deadly wound replacing the abysmal black, tinting the fog covering the ground and the sky arching above, empty save for a low full moon.

Nope. Not a moon.

The display of a…clock.

And all around, like the columns holding the roof of a cathedral, pillars shot out of the ground like Max’s had done, stretching towards this crimson sky, patterns of black creepers writhing around them like coils of snakes.

And on each pillar, there was a body.

Eddie had seen these images before, of broken limbs like the branches of trees, of bloody black holes where eyes had been and dislodged jaws gaping open in eternal, muted death cries.

They were all here, just like you had told him when you’d woken from your trance.

All of the souls Vecna had reaped.

If he’d still been able to throw up, Eddie would have retched his guts out.

But he couldn’t avert his gaze from Chrissy’s empty eye sockets staring back at him.

You left me there, she seemed to scream at him. You ran and left me there.

He tore his gaze away, spinning in a circle, to the pillar behind him – but it was empty.

It took Eddie a shellshocked moment to realize that this empty pillar…it was meant for him.

Because no matter if he won, as soon as the last dice had been thrown, Eddie would take his place in Henry’s collection of stolen souls.

Just like Max, he realized.

Locked up in this place forever.

But if Eddie could make sure to give you a chance to be happy again…he could take this fate waiting for him.

And if he found a way to get Max out of here…

He opened his palm, taking the crimson D&D dice between his thumb and index finger as another horrid realization hit him.

Eddie didn’t need to turn the dice to know.

“There’s no twenty,” he breathed. “Right?”

***

It took a split second for you to realize those weren’t falling stars hailing from the skies all around you.

It were the bats.

Their wings and fluttering tails had caught fire, set ablaze by your tormented mind, the reeling darkness you’d ripped away from Vecna.

Leathery wings devoured by flames as they fell from the skies all around you, their tormented screeches filling the freezing half-dark of the Upside Down, one after the other, more and more until they rained down like a shower of shooting stars.

Bringing you back to the night on the roof of Eddie’s trailer, when you’d first kissed.

I’ve never seen a goddamn shooting star in my life.

If only they were shooting stars, hearing your desperate wish.

But no shooting star in the world could give you back what you’d lost.

No, you couldn’t put the light back into those beautiful dark eyes.

Couldn’t put his light back into the world to combat the dark.

And amidst this eternal night in your chest, there was a spark of fury.

Of wrath.

Not a lifeline, not exactly. But a tether, nonetheless.

You held on to it, clutched it tightly.

No, you couldn’t put the light back into Eddie’s eyes to chase away this darkest of nights.

But you could set the darkness on fire.

Vecna had taken everything from you.

And now, you would take everything from him.

***

With his frozen smile still on his lips, Henry Creel tilted his head, the softest of chuckles filling the void.

“Witty little songbird. A dungeon master’s skill, one might say.”

He waved his hand, and when Eddie glanced back at the dice in his palm, it showed a twenty, black numbers on crimson.

But it didn’t matter whether Eddie rolled a natural twenty, he realized.

Because even if he’d make true of his promise and erase Eddie from your memories…Henry would never let you go. He’d haunt you for the rest of the days – and those would be numbered.

Henry would make sure to you’d pay for stealing from him.

Eddie’s breath caught in his throat.

And that was the moment it finally clicked, the final piece of the puzzle he didn’t even know he’d been searching for falling in place.

Stealing from him.

Jesus H Christ.

That was it.

Stealing meant taking something away, something that would be gone.

Stealing some of Henry Creel’s powers…meant he’d have left less of them left for himself.

That’s why he was so furious with you.

You hadn’t only stolen from him – you’d weakened him.

How the fuck had Eddie been so blind? How had he not realized this all along?

When he glanced up at Henry now, it was as if a theater curtain had been lifted, revealing a glance at what had lain behind all the time.

Henry wasn’t sitting on the Dungeon Master’s throne simply because he could or wanted to.

He was sitting there because he had to.

Because he was injured.

And in pain, it dawned on Eddie.

Pretty good at covering it up, but Eddie could see the strain on Henry’s face, the grey pallor on his milky skin, the exhaustion beneath the malice in his forget-me-not-blue eyes.

Henry Creel was hurt.

Yeah, Eddie was dead.

But he wasn’t gone yet.

Eddie didn’t know what he was now. A ghost, the fragment of a soul staying behind because he couldn’t let go as long as the love of his life was still in danger. Or a memory, maybe, like a blurred polaroid picture, forever frozen in this timeless realm. An angry, heartbroken spirit who’d never find rest because his monster slayer, the girl he loved more than anything was suffering, trapped in a place he could never reach to wrap his arms around her and whisper that all would be okay.

It didn’t matter either way.

Eddie would never be able to come back to you. But as his hand wrapped around your green silk ribbon tied around his wrist, Eddie realized…he might be able to make sure Henry would never be able to get back to you, either.

Maybe, Eddie could deal the final blow himself, from within.

Make sure the monster would never be able to lay a hand on you again.

That had always been what Eddie had tried to do, after all – protect you.

He only needed a plan.

Fast.

His eyes never leaving Henry Creel’s, Eddie threw the dice for the first time.

The sound of it, rolling across the wooden D&D table towards Henry in his throne, sounded too loud in the eerie silence of the void. But then again, there was no point in fearing to draw attention to any monster which might roam the darkness at the edges of Vecna’s lair when the most monstrous thing was watching him with his piercing forget-me-not eyes.

When the dice came to a stop right in front of Henry, Eddie didn’t need to take a glance to see it hadn’t landed on a twenty.

Henry’s smirk was telling enough.

“Want to try again, Edward?”

Hell yes.

Letting his fingertips trail over the polished wooden surface of the gaming table, Eddie walked towards the head of the table and Henry, still lounging in the throne that had once belonged to Eddie, to grab the dice for his second throw.

To get close enough.

Just as Eddie’s fingers wrapped around one of the little figurines discarded all across the wooden surface, a motion behind Henry caught his attention.

And for the fragment of a heartbeat, Eddie’s eyes locked on a pair of hazel ones.

He’d never seen her before, but he didn’t need to – he’d heard so many stories about her that he felt like he already knew the girl with the buzzed hair and the nosebleed meeting his gaze above Henry’s shoulder, frozen mid movement as she reached out to the creepers keeping Max muted and pinned to her pillar.

Eleven.

The girl with the superpowers.

And it seemed she’d managed to get those back just in time.

Even with this split-second glance, Eddie could tell that Eleven was as weakened as Henry.

Blood was dribbling from her nose and onto her white shirt, and exhaustion shone in her eyes, the shadows underneath dark and deep.

No matter how she’d gotten here, it dawned on Eddie that she wouldn’t be able to save both Max and him.

And if Henry discovered her, she might not even be able to save herself.

There was the spark of an idea in Eddie’s panic-dazed mind as the thought which had taken root there only seconds ago grew into a fully-fledged plan.

A crazy one. Batshit crazy and really, truly reckless, bordering on stupid – but there was the sliver of a chance that it might actually work.

Grip tightening around the D&D figurine as he let the sleeve of his leather jacket slide down a little further, over his fist, the surprisingly sharp edges of the miniature monster digging into his palm, Eddie quickly focused back on Henry as not to betray the arrival of help.

He knew exactly what he had to do.

Buy more time for one final time, divert the monster so the girl with the superpowers could save Max.

And then, Eddie would kill Vecna right from within.

Set you free of Henry Creel’s grasp.

To live.

Graduate.

Go to the beach.

Find peace.

Move on, and find happiness.

That’s what Eddie wanted for you. That’s what he’d fight for even in death.

It was strange, that he didn’t have a heartbeat anymore yet he could feel it racing in his chest, roaring in his ears. Tremors were shaking his hands and making his bottom lip tremble, that stupid fucking quirk he couldn’t control forever giving him away as he bit his lip to stop it from giving him away this time, keep his eyes locked on Henry’s, dark umber against forget-me-not-blue.

Eddie reached the head of the table, his other hand, the one not holding the figurine reaching to grab the dice –

And with a suppressed roar of rage, Eddie attacked.

A sickening squelch filled the air alongside Henry’s uproar of pain as the little figurine in Eddie’s hand hit its mark in the man’s left eye, black blood splattering over Eddie’s face as he stumbled backwards, away from Henry.

The D&D figurine was stuck in his eye, right in the center.

It was a Mind Flayer figurine, all of its spidery legs buried in Henry Creel’s eye socket as more black blood gushing out of the wound to spill on his immaculate white dress shirt, turning it less-immaculate in a heartbeat.

“New game idea,” Eddie breathed, “Tag. Your turn, goldilocks.”

***

It felt like sleepwalking as you untangled yourself from Eddie to kneel on the dead grass, the blood pooling all around in a puddle. Eddie’s blood, already cold.

There was still the ghost of one of Eddie’s sunshine smiles lingering on his lips.

It was fitting, you thought.

The boy who’d always made sure to keep his smile no matter what was thrown his way, who’d always tried to make others smile whenever he could, who’d given you back the laughter you’d been so sure the Mind Flayer – Vecna – had stolen for good, had walked into death with one of those soft smiles, because the last thing he’d seen had been you.

Your hands folded over his own, fingers lacing with his as you tilted your head towards the skies, towards the burning bats hailing down all around you like falling stars, their agonized death cries filling the air.

It was hurting Vecna.

You could feel his pain through that strange, lingering connection of darkness, that bond tying you to him and him to you like a shackle.

The darkness you’d stolen from him nestled closer in your mind, your grief shared by this weird companion. A part of you, and yet holding a consciousness of itself.

You would hurt Vecna.

You would make him pay.

Your eyes fluttered close.

One last time, you told the darkness. Help me one last time.

***

It felt like all the times Eddie had run away in his life had led to this moment, prepared him to run when running was what he needed to do right now to draw Henry away so the girl with the superpowers could save Max and Eddie could kill Henry and save you.

He raced past pillars decorated with broken, tortured souls frozen in their final, muted death screams, empty eye sockets watching as he darted past.

Eddie knew he might be one of them soon. Or would he? What would happen if he managed to kill Vecna in the monster’s own mind? Would he stay here, trapped forever in this horrible place filled with death and misery and pain, like a firefly trapped in a jar?

It didn’t matter.

The only thing that mattered was that he killed Henry and made sure the monster would never ever lay a hand on you again.

As long as he knew you were safe, Eddie was ready to accept whatever fate awaited him.

But to kill Henry, he needed a weapon.

Something, anything…

But there was nothing here. Only death and broken bones and creeping vines writhing as they lashed out in attempts to grab his ankles and restrain him, their movements strangely distorted, like those of a drunk. Something was hurting Henry, slowing him down. Some injury Team Crit Hit had managed to deal.

Like a hare on the run from the fox, Eddie zigzagged between them, past the maze of pillars, stumbling blindly through the fog which seemed to grow thicker with every step until it swallowed Eddie’s ragged breaths and the sound of his combat boots on the ground.

Just as he threw a glance over his shoulder, to check whether Henry was still following him, something crunched beneath the soles of his boots.

Eddie didn’t know what it was that compelled him to stop. But he did. Maybe it was something he could use as a weapon.

Blood roaring in his ears, Eddie bent down, his fingers searching the thing he’d stepped on, hidden by the fog covering the ground and the world all around him, reaching for him in tendrils that curled around his legs like creepers.

There. Something cold and sharp bit into the tips of his fingers before his hand closed around it.

A razorblade. A rusty old razorblade.

“Eddiiiiieeee,” a sing-song voice drawled from beyond the impenetrable fog.

“No,” Eddie breathed.

It couldn’t be.

Not here.

“C’mere. Be a big boy, huh?”

The last time Eddie had heard this voice, he’d been a kid, cowering in the corner of the camper as the policemen had dragged Richard Munson away. His father.

“Eddiiiieee. Stop hiding. I’m gonna find you anyways, I always do. Let’s just get this over with, hm?”

And just like that, Eddie was four years old again, scared and hiding from his father and his razorblade and the stench of cheap whiskey that always seemed to linger in the air around him like a little cloud.

“You don’ wanna look like a girl, do ya, Eddie? Don’ wanna look like mommy? Lemme cut these ugly curls.”

No. Please, please don’t. Eddie squeezed his eyes shut. “Not real. It’s not real,” he whispered, shrinking away from the voice piercing through the fog, “He’s gone. He’s locked up and this isn’t real. It’s a trick. Not real. Not real –“

“You wanna look like mommy, huh? You wanna look like that ungrateful bitch?”

Eddie let go of the rusty razorblade as his hands shot up to cover his ears, lock out all those ugly memories while he sunk to the ground, letting the fog swallow him.

His father had never hit him. But he’d hated Eddie’s curls. And when he’d drank enough of his magic potions, he’d sometimes grabbed a razorblade to shear them off, the cold metal biting into Eddie’s skin, sometimes drawing blood with how much his father’s hands were shaking as he got worked up. Spitting out horrible things about Eddie’s mother.

“Go away,” Eddie breathed, the first tears of panic spilling down his cheeks as he cowered there, between the pillars, the silhouettes of broken limbs reaching through the fog like the branches of naked trees in winter. “Go. Away!”

“Stole my good stuff to od ‘n left me with her lil’ mutt. She was a whore, ya know? Wouldn’a surprised me if you weren’t even mine but we’re gonna make a real Munson outta ya, boy. Now, hold still. Lemme cut these ugly curls right off ‘n then we’re good, yeah?”

At the edge of his panic, Eddie knew it wasn’t real.

That Henry Creel was playing his sick little mind games, burrowing into Eddie’s darkest memories, drilling deeper and deeper until he hit a vein, black oil spilling and poisoning everything else until the only thing left was panic, freezing, devouring panic.

Pressing his hands firmer over his ears, as if that would help drown out that voice that lived inside his head, freed from its cage…something grazed Eddie’s cheek.

Soft silk, a dark, vibrant green.

Your ribbon, tied around his wrist, conjuring up the love shining in your eyes when you’d tied it into a little bow-tie, both of you still beautifully immersed in the afterglow of what you’d just done, heartbeats in perfect synchrony forming a duet to match the connection between your souls.

Monster slayer.

Like a light switch being flipped, there were other memories flitting to the surface of Eddie’s mind to combat the ugly ones.

Not of rough hands gripping his neck, forcing the razorblade across his scalp, dark curls falling to the floor all around him as he sobbed – but of your hands, gently combing through his curls when you’d washed his hair in the shower only twenty-four hours ago, your touch nothing but loving.

He needed to save you.

Gritting his teeth against the voice of his father still piercing the fog, Eddie pushed himself back on his feet.

Get a weapon.

Pierce Vecna’s heart.

That was the plan.

He’d done that a thousand times. All those years of playing D&D, as a player, as a Dungeon Master…he’d defeated evil so many times.

He could do it again.

One last time.

And as if the control Eddie taken back over his mind and senses, reigning in his terror, was the key, the fog was lifting, his old man’s voice fading with every step Eddie took forwards, towards the looming silhouette of…of a hallway.

A house’s hallway – a winding staircase leading up into nowhere.

And beside the staircase was a door.

An old one, made of wood and inlaid with a window of stained glass, a bouquet of crimson roses at its center.

The door you’d opened. The door you’d seen that night last November.

Shivers raced down Eddie’s spine as his eyes scanned the place.

“Little songbird,” a second voice, Henry’s voice, travelled through the air, a drawl, almost teasing in its tone, threat laced within.

Gritting his teeth, Eddie stumbled towards the staircase.

It was broken in places, some of the wooden struts of its banister sticking out like toothpicks.

“Do you truly think you can run from me, Edward? You might be an even bigger coward than I thought.”

Grim determination guiding Eddie’s movements, he ripped out one of the wooden struts, the polished surface cool against his clammy palm, the end of it splintered into a sharp tip.

It looked like a stake ready to be driven through a vampire’s heart – and for a split second, he remembered the joke he’d cracked in the trailer only an hour ago.

Guess I’m Kas The Bloody-Handed now.

It was befitting, in a way. Kas had killed Vecna.

And so would Eddie.

“Run away, little songbird,” Henry drawled, his voice morphing, growing dark and distorted like the signal of a walkie running out of batteries. “The cat’s coming to play with you.”

Clutching the wooden stake, Eddie raced away from the the door with its creepy stained-glass roses, back into the labyrinth of pillars, careful not to glance at the mutilated, stolen souls of Vecna’s victims decorating them.

“I’m going to rip out your feathers, little songbird.”

His voice was eerie, haunting, reverberating through his lair.

Careful not to touch the creepers writhing lazily on the ground like coils of rattlesnakes, Eddie wove his way through the maze, deeper and deeper towards the source of the voice.

Towards Vecna.

“I’m going to snap your wings and make you sing with pain, little songbird.”

Eddie’s heart was racing so loud that he feared its wild thumping would give him away.

His back pressed against the nearest pillar, Eddie waited, fighting to suppress his ragged breaths, listening –

“Found you.”

Eddie whirled around.

Henry’s eye, the one Eddie had pierced with the figurine, was gone.

An empty socket was glaring back at him in its stead to match the lifeless souls strapped to their pillars all around.

The remaining eye was filled with hatred.

And so, so much bloodlust, the sneer twisting Henry’s lips barely visible because his skin had grown grey, starting to rot away from his face.

It almost looked like…like burn marks.

When Henry raised his hand, fingers grown into spidery claws, Eddie moved.

There was a wet squelching sound as the sharp end of the broken stake pierced the monster’s chest, sinking into rotting skin like a knife cutting through butter before Eddie let go of it, stumbling backwards and away from Henry, his back hitting the nearest pillar as the one remaining forget-me-not blue eye locked on him.

Eddie waited for Vecna to scream, to dissolve, fade into particles like the ones floating through the air of his realm of monsters –

But Vecna just smiled.

And Eddie knew that he’d lost.

“Oh, little songbird,” Vecna crooned, his voice distorted like the chime of the broken clock in the skies as his hand – his claw, fingers grown spindly and elongated like the legs of a spider, wrapped around the stake to pull it out of his chest.

The wood made a dull thudding sound as it clattered to the ground.

Freezing, wet creepers wrapped around Eddie from behind, ensnaring his wrists, his ankles, wrapping around his chest as they pulled him flush against the pillar to mirror the other souls Vecna had collected, a muted scream of pain lodged at the back of his throat as Henry stepped closer.

“Do you want to know why didn’t work?”

The nauseating stench of burned flesh made bile rise in Eddie’s throat as the disfigured claw gripped his jaw, sharp fingernails digging into Eddie’s skin as the cruel smile on Henry Creel’s face widened.

“I don’t have a heart anymore, little songbird.”

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