drip flip stitch

Let go. Let go. Let go.

Wisps of pale moonlight flitted through the lonely pines, encroaching upon the road, heavy and claustrophobic. His hands, bare and cold, gripped the steering wheel. No one in the rearview. No one chasing after him, throwing broken bottles. No one. Darkness covered Eddie like a shroud.

In the two years that had passed since Chrissy’s death, he had become unwillingly nocturnal. With daylight came hushed whispers, scorned looks, senseless beatings. Violence in the form of vile words spat at him from across a parking lot by a mother with a child. He weathered it, for a little while. Told himself he was strong enough, that he was a survivor.

But that was part of the problem.

So many dead, and he lived. What did he have to show for it? To prove that he was worth saving?

Just let go.

He had already moved trailers twice. Someone set fire to the last one. ‘Acquitted’ didn’t seem to mean much to the people of Hawkins. The well of government hush money had all but run dry, and now he was nothing but an unemployed burden on his uncle. A spectre wearing the face of Eddie Munson. He stopped leaving the house during the day, stopped wearing his battle jacket, his rings. Too recognisable. Too distinct. Asking for trouble.

Just do it, you fucking coward.

The potholes that marred the tarmac made the suspension of the van wheeze and groan with the increasing speed. He could smell the burning rubber of his worn tyres, feel the chill seeping into his bones. The ache in the hollow of his chest, constricting his lungs as if by an invisible serpent. It was all too much, a frenzy of sensations, but all the while accompanied by the most profound emptiness.

He let go. A split second. He let go of the wheel.

Peace, that’s all he wanted- not death, not really. He realised that in the slow, creeping seconds that followed. He thought about Wayne. The tears that brimmed in his eyes, the undeniable shake of his limbs when Eddie finally returned to him. He had wrapped him in his arms like a small child and held on for dear life. Then Dustin- the fear and grief in the young boy’s eyes as he watched Eddie bleed out in his arms.

The van began to veer toward the middle of the road almost in slow motion as Eddie’s sense caught up with him. He didn’t want to die. He just wanted to feel alive again.

Latching back onto the steering wheel, his fingers wound tight around the leather to regain control. His whole body jerked against the driver’s side door with the momentum as he slammed on the brakes. In his careless distraction, he had failed to notice the tiny figure frozen in the amber of his headlights. Tyres screeched to a grinding halt, but it was already too late. A loud thump reverberated from the bumper, making Eddie’s blood run cold.

“Shit, shit, shit, no-” His heartbeat thrummed in his ears as he wrenched open the door, rounding the side to inspect the damage.

A single roe fawn laid weakly on the broken asphalt. Its hind was lame and gushing warm blood into the cracks below, bleating softly in pain. For a moment, Eddie stood transfixed, his hands coiled tightly into fists at his side. He had done this. It was his fault- and he had to make it right. As if jolted alive by some bolt of lightning, Eddie sprung into action and grabbed a threadbare blanket from the back seat, crouching down to look the animal in the eye.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” His voice cracked and wavered as he gently wrapped the deer in his embrace.

He felt every breath and vibration of the innocent creature clinging to life in his arms. Setting it down in the passenger seat, he let out a shaky breath, nerves twitching in the corner of his eye. Wind picked up and whistled through the trees, branches creaking and cracking, and he began to feel watched. There was barely ever a moment when he didn’t.

He gave a rushed, wary glance in every direction before clambering quickly back into the driver’s seat. There was only one place open this time of night, and he wasn’t sure he would make it.

The fax machine was jammed, again. You sat there, head resting on one hand, chewing at your pen. The red light flickered in your periphery, beeping expectantly at you. An ageing printer sat to your right, making a scraping noise with every page printed. A deafening symphony of boredom. At least the coffee was palatable, somewhat. You were lucky to get this job. That’s what you told yourself on nights like these; nights that bled into each other endlessly. A highschool dropout with no qualifications to speak of, you were fortunate that all you had to do was talk sweet and flash some cleavage, and now here you were. A receptionist. Reliable, respectable - mind numbing. The only saving grace was in the knowledge that in some small way, you were helping hurt animals to heal. Even if that help came in the form of filing documents. If you were honest, you had no idea what you wanted to do with your life. Every time you set out to make a choice, circumstances made the choice for you. If “winging it” were an Olympic sport, you would have won gold, if your car hadn’t broken down on the way to the stadium.

Maybe you were cursed - or this town was cursed. Just when you thought you had escaped, it had pulled you back like a black hole that devoured everything it touched. You chuckled to yourself incredulously, flexing your stiff fingers and rubbing your eyes, attempting to will away the sleep that lurked in the corners. The town wasn’t the black hole you decided, no - that was your mother. The only reason you came back to this shit heap. She was sick and couldn’t afford the hospital bills. It didn’t matter that she made you feel like nothing, that she tore you down with every word she uttered. She was your flesh and blood, and some part of you that you wished you could destroy felt an obligation. Months of working two jobs to support her, months of filing and pens that didn’t work, months of listening to your stuck up coworkers talk about their inane lives.

As you sat there, exhausted and hollow, you wondered - is this it? Jesus, is this all there is?

The glass door that opened up into the parking lot slammed open with such force that it had you torn from your musings. A gust of chill wind blew in errant leaves, and a tall, frantic figure with it.

“Help! Shit, someone help, please!”

You heard the panic in his voice before you really saw him. Save the on call vet, you were the only person in the building, and it took you a second to realise you were the someone he was calling for. Springing to your feet, you stepped swiftly around the front desk, and you were confronted with the shaking frame of quite possibly the prettiest man you’d ever seen. His large brown eyes were widened with alarm, his long auburn hair sticking to his forehead with sweat. There was something familiar etched into the creases between his brows, lines too old for such a young face. However the siren call of his stunning features were nevertheless overwhelmed by the visage of the slumped animal bleeding through a blanket in his rigid arms. Oh god.

“It just- it came out of nowhere, I couldn’t-” He rambled, voice quivering and straining in his throat as he held back tears. “- my van, didn’t s-stop in time, I-”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, it’s oka-” You began, invading his personal space to lay a comforting hand on his bicep. He flinched momentarily at the contact.

“Can you help, can- can you do something?” He interrupted, simply out of urgency.

Your heart shattered into pieces at the sight of him. Not many people in this town would do what he did. They would simply have driven away and let nature take its course. You felt the lump bubble up in your throat, the tightness in your chest as you gripped more firmly onto his arm. There was no movement from under the blanket. No sound. The air stilled in such a way that only happened when there was death. It was something you knew intimately now. You called for the doctor, your voice echoing out into the hallway.

“I’m so sorry,” Sniffling slightly, you shifted on your feet, making a conscious effort to look into his eyes. “It’s gone. There’s nothing we can do.”

It hurt, watching the realisation dawn on him. Even more so when the doctor came to collect the fawn, prying it out of the man’s reluctant arms. You watched as he regarded the small spots of dried blood on his empty hands, his vacant stare and quickening breath betraying him. He was moments away from a panic attack.

“Hey, hey look at me.” You prompted, bowing your head to meet his gaze where it was cast downwards.

It took him a moment as he seemed lost in some distant memory, his full lips bitten red and trembling. After a few beats, he complied, whiskey drenched irises trapped behind glassy tears. Slowly so as not to startle him further, you took your place by his side and laid a stern but gentle hand between his shoulder blades, ushering him forward. He turned his head to maintain eye contact, the intensity of your compassion anchoring him to reality.

“I’m going to take you into the back and make you some tea, is that okay?” You spoke as if to a child. He simply nodded.

The fluorescent lights flickered on, casting the room in an artificial warmth as you signalled for him to take a seat on a rickety plastic chair. Cages inhabited by various rescued animals were stacked atop one another, lining the paint chipped walls. Your entrance was barely a disturbance, eliciting a few disgruntled meows and a hiss from a grouchy possum. Their presence had always been calming to you, and you hoped it would have the same effect on the man shaking like a leaf in the corner. The knowledge that one had ended a life by their own hand would unsettle any reasonable person, but there was something deeper broiling under the surface, something more painful triggered by the events of the night. It was a cruel thing, to have so much empathy- to feel the sting of other’s suffering; but it made you uniquely adept at comfort. You turned to leave the room, but the ghost of a voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Don’t- don’t leave, please.” God, he sounded so small, so unsure.

“Okay, it’s okay, I’m not going anywhere.” You relented, grabbing another chair and wincing at the scraping sound as you dragged it along the floor to sit opposite him.

It was silent, save the dizzying hum of the overhead lights, and the few and far between grumblings of tired animals. The quiet allowed you to really see the boy in front of you- that’s what he looked like, in the moment. A frightened boy.

“I feel like I know you from somewhere, what’s your name?” You asked curiously, squinting slightly.

He stiffened, choosing to ignore the question. It perplexed you, but as your eyes drifted towards his wringing hands, you noticed a small, faded scar between his thumb and forefinger. All of a sudden, it clicked.

“...Eddie?” The realisation hit you like a blast of warm water, nostalgic and heartbreaking. “Eddie Munson, from Hawkins Middle?”

Eddie relaxed slightly, the sound of your voice soft and fond. He met your eyes with recognition, though he couldn’t quite place you. His breathing slowed as he seemed to scan his mind for the breadcrumbs your familiar features gave him. The diversion was clearly helping to shift his attention from the panic that threatened to overcome him moments before, and you felt a little bare under his discerning gaze.

“Holy shit, it’s you,” Eddie’s lips threatened to twitch into a smile, but only barely.

“Mrs Abernathy’s science class,” You reminded, smiling wide enough for the both of you. “We got paired for that project on… shit, what was it?”

“I don’t remember,” He replied softly, the smile now taking up full real estate. “I don’t think we actually did any of the work.”

It was so genuine, it was almost blinding.

“I just remember Thursdays after school, we’d hang out in the woods behind your trailer in that rusty old bathtub in the clearing,” As you spoke, the visual gained purchase in your mind, blotted blacks and greys replaced by outstanding technicolour. “That’s how you got that scar, right?”

Eddie traced the line of your finger towards where it pointed on his hand, nodding knowingly, the past flashing before his eyes as clear as day. Instead of doing the work you both had been assigned, you had opted to steal a carton of his Uncle Wayne’s cigarettes, taking them with you into the clearing. Neither of you had actually smoked before, so you sat facing each other in the discarded bathtub, heads leaning forward as you lit both of your cigarettes with one lighter. The subsequent coughing and spluttering led both of you firmly into fits of raucous giggling. It was then, in the nicotine induced delirium, that Eddie had caught his hand on the jagged edge of the porcelain, tearing the skin.

“Yeah, yeah it was.” Eddie chuckled to himself. “I was so freaked out you told me to just keep smoking, ‘cause that’s what the grown-ups did when they were upset. Nearly puked up my spleen.”

“I was such a bad influence, corrupting you like that.” Mirth dripped like honey from your words.

“I’m surprised you’re not in jail by now, honestly.” He quipped, returning your energy. Neither of you had seen the other for nearly a decade, but it was as if no time had passed.

For a moment, you could pretend you were still that wide-eyed and hopeful kid, full of grand plans and mischief to wreak. You got the sense that Eddie felt the same way, his shoulders relaxed, his thighs spread apart. Any trace of panic had melted away, and he seemed at ease in your company. It filled you with warmth, along with another creeping memory that you had held close to you all these years. Images of his trailer roof at midnight flashed behind your eyes, the stars like little pin pricks in the night sky. You could almost feel the summer evening breeze on your skin, and the plush softness of Eddie’s lips as you both shared a timid first kiss. It was sweet, and short lived, and the next day you had left Hawkins without a word. Over the years, the fine details faded, but the feeling never did.

A comfortable silence fell upon the room, and you wondered if Eddie was thinking the same thing, too held back by your suddenly limited acquaintance to say anything. Instead, the both of you sat reminiscing on your various but short lived adventures together that one summer, so long ago.

A faint meow interrupted your recollections, and Eddie turned his head to his right to follow the sound, finding a small black kitten pawing at the bars of its cage. It was missing an eye, and had angry purple scars littered across the white of its chest and neck. Inexplicably, the tiny creature was fascinated by Eddie’s presence, mewling and squeaking at him for attention. She had only been with the practice for a few weeks, and the only other person she had ever shown interest towards was you.

“Would you like to hold her?” You asked, observing this mutual curiosity.

“Huh? Oh, uh, sure, I guess.” Eddie supplemented, and you stood to open her cage.

Both were unsure of the other at first, Eddie laying a tentative hand at her back as she sniffed the hem of his damp grey t-shirt. Her tiny paws padded at the softness of his stomach, and he huffed a small sound of amusement. The lines of worry on his face were slowly ironing out, and god, you didn’t remember him ever being this beautiful. He was always cute, in a rough, boyish sort of way, but the years had sewn maturity into his features- an angelic definition that demanded to be seen.

“What’s her name?” He asked, becoming bolder as he hoisted her up and cradled her to his chest.

“Mr Jesus.” You offered plainly, hiding your blitheness and awaiting the impending confusion.

In a timely fashion, you were awarded with it in the form of a quizzical brow and a curl of his lips.

“Mr…Jesus?” Eddie enunciated slowly and pointedly, deft fingers scratching at her nape.

“They found her curled up on an old bible, hence the Jesus-” You began.

“-Naturally.”

“- and the formal Mr, because the little white bit on her chest makes it look like she’s wearing-”

“A tuxedo.” He smiled, thrilled at his summation, the whites of his teeth baring as he met your gaze.

“Exactly that.”

Your smile melted like butter into your words, the softness of the scene before you panging in your chest. Eddie’s attention was quickly diverted back to the kitten nuzzling into his armpit, and you watched on with tenderness as he crooned at her softly.

“It’s funny,” You tilted your head as you regarded the pair. “The strays always seem to have a way of finding each other.”

“Oh, so I’m a stray now?” His tone held mock offence, but the glint in his eye set you at ease.

“Well you look a little worse for wear since the last time I saw you.” Teasing. The way you always used to.

Unfortunately, it didn’t land the way you wanted it to. Eddie’s expression changed on a dime, and he stood to place Mr Jesus back in her cage.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“No, no it’s okay. It’s just late,” He interrupted, wiping his hands on his worn jeans and making for the door. “I should go.”

His hand hesitated on the latch, and he turned to you one last time, his eyes on the grimy tiled floor.

“Thank you, for.. Y’know.”

You nodded, hoping to convey with your eyes the million things you wanted to say to him.

It was nice to see you. I hope I see you again. I’m sorry I left without saying goodbye.

After a beat, he exited, leaving you alone with the echoes of the past.

Hunted. That’s how he felt. It didn’t matter that it had been months since the last incident of any kind. It was a coiling dread that he could never shake, the moment he set foot outside his trailer. His old armour, fit to the purpose of deflecting high school bullying and sticking it to the mainstream, lay discarded in the bottom of his closet. It had been torn from his injured body, flecks of his own dried blood stiffening the material. Now his protection was an ancient black hoodie, clinging to his body uncomfortably in the heat of the morning sun in the shadeless alleyway. The hood was kept up at all times, a feeble attempt to hide himself from unforgiving eyes. Everyone in this town knew who he was - so why didn’t you?

Sleep had evaded him the rest of the night. He replayed the scene, over and over in his mind. The accident. The deer. The sticky, crimson dots of innocent blood on his fingertips. He could forgive himself for it, in time; but he couldn’t forgive himself for leaving you so abruptly. After you had been so kind.

At first, hearing his name fall from your lips had him frozen in terror. He had been waiting for the other shoe to drop, for you to recoil from him and brand him murderer. What he didn’t anticipate was the simmering affection in your doe eyes as you took him in, the unmistakable glow that emanated from you when you spoke of your childhood. He silently kicked himself for not recognising you sooner. In his defence, the last time he saw you, you had a missing tooth and acne, and quite possibly the dorkiest bangs he’d ever seen. He thought you had hung the moon and stars, even back then, but it was nothing compared to the unique beauty you had grown into. Sitting in that chair across from you, he felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Unburdened. As if you were holding the weight from his shoulders and bearing it with your smile. Then you mentioned his appearance; albeit jokingly, and the glimmering oasis of his youth dissolved around him. The faint purpling scars that vandalised his body twinged with a dull pain that would never let him forget one simple fact. He wasn’t the same, and he never would be.

“Jesus man, you look like something out of Evil Dead II,” Steve remarked, stepping out into the alley behind Family Video. “When’s the last time you slept?”

He leant against the crumbling brick wall with one arm, reaching into his pocket for a packet of cigarettes and looking over Eddie’s form with a friendly concern.

“And you walk around like an extra from The Brady Bunch.” Eddie deflected, mumbling around the filter of his own cigarette, hanging loosely from his lips. There was no malice in his words, just good natured ribbing somewhat dulled by exhaustion.

“Seriously dude,” Steve narrowed his eyes, “You doin’ okay? Henderson said he hadn’t heard from you in a couple weeks.”

“Yeah, just… time got away from me, I guess.” He lied. He had been avoiding Dustin because he knew that his sixteenth birthday was coming up, and the kid would ask him to show face. He couldn’t.

The awkward pause lasted a beat too long.

“I uh, I met somebody.” Eddie deflected yet again. Girl talk, yes - that would be enough to distract Steve from the dark sagging circles around his eyes.

“You’re shitting me, right?” Steve huffed out a laugh, entirely disbelieving.

Eddie shifted nervously on his feet, taking a thoughtful drag and exhaling to buy himself time. He had indeed met you, but not in the manner he was feigning. A niggling part of his subconscious whispered to him - it could be.

It could, if he weren’t a coward. You were pretty, and sweet, and you didn’t look at him like you wanted to hurl at the sight of him. But… he was a mess, a fuck-up, and to top it all off- not an ounce of know-how in the bedroom.

“No, uh, I hit a deer with my van last night-”

“Did you at least get its number?” Steve interjected, entirely too pleased with himself.

“Eat shit, Harrington.”

“Cmon, man, I’m only kidding- tell me about her,” He spoke, adding quickly, “or him.. them, whatever.”

He looked so genuinely excited, that Eddie dared not back down.

“She’s the receptionist at the vet. We kinda knew each other way back.” Eddie offered, moving to Steve’s side and leaning his back against the wall.

“...and?” Steve prompted, eyebrows raised.

“And she’s nice. Pretty.” It was an understatement if ever there was one. Eddie thought you were exquisite to look at.

“Nice and pretty. Wow. Sounds like the full package.” Steve’s penchant for sarcasm knew no bounds.

Inexplicably, Eddie felt the need to defend you.

“It’s not just that, man,” He sighed, “She… made me forget. About everything. Just for a moment, y’know? It was like I could be that guy. The kind of guy who could take a girl out on a date without getting a molotov cocktail thrown at him.”

His own honesty surprised him. He hadn’t realised just how much he craved blissful normalcy, and someone to share it with.

“So, what’s stopping you, aside from the obvious?” Steve could be a little dense at times, but the shiftiness in Eddie’s stance wasn’t exactly hard to miss.

“You know what.” He deadpanned.

Silence.

Eddie raised his eyebrows in insinuation. There was no way he could even attempt to go after a girl like you with no experience under his belt.

More silence.

He gave up and made a crude penetrating gesture with his hands.

“Oh shit, yeah, you’re still a virgin!” Steve clicked his fingers as if he’d just won a round of charades, too exuberant to realise his tactlessness.

“Tell it to the world, why don’t you, asshole.” Eddie pinched the lightly freckled bridge of his nose in embarrassment.

“I’m sorry,” He offered, though his chuckling made it seem disingenuous. “I’m sorry- look, you’re worried that you get a date with this girl, you go to hook up and you disappoint, right?”

Eddie hummed quietly in acknowledgement, wishing the ground would swallow him whole.

“So, as your only adult friend, let me give you a piece of advice-”

“Oh so we’re friends now?” Eddie teased, stubbing out his cigarette beneath his foot and trying to belay his nerves

“Shut up- my advice is- a practice run.” Steve seemed as though he were waiting for a round of applause.

He was met with an incredulous glare.

“You find some random chick, have a one night stand, and then it’s over with- no pre-show anxiety for the main event.”

For some reason, Eddie found that statement endlessly amusing, his lips curling up into a smirk.

“Sure. Step one: find a girl that doesn’t think I’m a cult leader; Step two, go home and get high because that girl doesn’t exist.” His laughter was genuine, but entirely self deprecating.

“I mean… there are some girls in this town who could be persuaded,” Steve hinted, trying not to be crass, “in exchange for some compensation.”

Oh. Right. That.

It wasn’t as if he’d never thought about it, in passing. He was getting a little tired of his own right hand, coupled with a depth of loneliness and a yearning for physical touch that sometimes eclipsed all else. He would often lie awake at night, escaping into a fantastical reverie where someone could love him. He imagined what they might look like, how they might sound. He pictured their hands roaming his body, stroking his hair. A beautiful lie he would tell himself that only made the truth hurt that much more.

“Whatever, man-” Eddie dismissed, though he couldn’t dismiss the seed of the thought that had been planted.

“Just something to think about.” Steve relented, ruffling through the large pockets of his work vest in search of something. “Anyway, I got you that half you asked for.”

He produced a medium sized freezer bag of weed, holding it out in presentation. Eddie swiftly snatched the bag, stuffing it into the pocket of his hoodie.

“Thanks, man. I owe you one.” Tipping his head in gratitude, he racked his brain for an excuse to leave. Being out in the open this long was tempting the fates.

He didn’t have to wait long to find one. A thunderous crack erupted from behind him like a gunshot, and the colour drained from Eddie’s face as he scrambled to hold onto Steve’s arm. His grip was bruising as his breathing quickened and his muscles wound tight enough to snap.

“Hey- hey, Munson, chill out,” Steve grabbed him by the shoulders firmly, “It’s just a car backfiring, it’s okay.”

Eddie’s head whipped around in all directions in search of a threat, ultimately coming up empty. Steve was right. It was just a car, no big deal. Nevertheless, every instinct he had was telling him to run, to hide - and he felt inclined to listen.

“It’s okay.” He repeated, wide hazel eyes resolute in their reassurance.

“I’m- I’m fine.” Eddie attempted to shake off any external signs of fear, releasing Steve's arm with a trembling hand that he quickly hid in the pocket of his jeans.

Steve remained unconvinced, his worried stare flitting over Eddie’s features. His one hand fell to his side, huffing out an exasperated breath, while the other rubbed down the length of his face.

Eddie was an open book about everything; everything except his suffering. He had spent months after Vecna’s attack in a perpetual echo chamber, recounting every forged detail over and over for the court. Hopper had coached him through it, told him it was just for appearances; that the suits would make it go away, and they did. Legally. But when he descended down the courthouse steps for the final time, the crowd screamed for their pound of flesh. The sound was the underscore to all of Eddie’s nightmares.

Forcibly relaxing his muscles, Eddie adopted a mask of humour that was demonstrably false.

“You better get back to work or Keith’s gonna have you alphabetising the adult section again, and you know what that shit looks like under blacklight.” He smiled, but it never reached his eyes.

“Yeah,” Steve hesitated, but the need to be literally anywhere else was evident in the way Eddie stood, hunched in on himself. He gave him an amicable pat on the back before turning toward the fire exit. “I’ll uh, see you around?”

“Yeah, see you around.”

With that, Eddie made his way back to his van. The stale scent of cigarette smoke and cloying damp was a balm on his frayed nerves, allowing himself to relax in the security of the enclosed space. He laid his head against the steering wheel, exhaling a deep breath that had been trapped in his chest. He thought about you. He had spent so long resigned to the hatred that venomous tongues would spit, that the kindness that dripped like honey from yours ignited a buried hope in him. A burning desire to be seen. To be wanted. It felt shallow, after everything he had been through, to be so concerned about his lack of sexual competence- but the niggling doubt wouldn’t cease. Even if he never stood a chance with you, his inexperience still felt like an obstacle, one he wanted removed. In that moment, in the stifling heat of his beat up old van, he was sure he was losing his mind.

He wasn’t actually considering paying for sex… was he?

Four walls… a roof, a fireplace, a feeling.

Home.

It was something you had been chasing all your life - in places, or in people. This place; this Frankenstein's monster of rotting shingles and cobwebbed windows, was the furthest thing from home you could imagine. You climbed the termite-ridden porch steps, wincing at each moaning creak that slipped out from under your feet. The evident disrepair of your mother’s house remained one of the only things for which she was without fault. Times had been hard and the cancer in her lungs even more so. Any despicable thoughts you had of karma and divine punishment were ones you pushed down as deep as you could. She had taken many things from you, but you would be damned if she would take your humanity.

Making sure to remain as quiet as possible, you slipped off your heels and carried them in hand. The old brass key click-click-clicked in the rusted lock as you turned it, and you edged your way into the dusty living room.

Your mother lay sleeping, snoring loudly over the hum of the TV set. It cast a warm glow upon her face, and for a sweet moment, all you could see was the softness. None of the harsh lines and divots between her brows, or the scornful turn of her lips. In the saccharine seconds between each of her heavy breaths, you could almost forget why you ever left in the first place. You could scrub clean the wounds she left.

It wasn’t your intention to leave Hawkins without a word to your friends- to Eddie. The night you shared your first kiss, sickly sweet and innocent, you had returned home past curfew. She had been lying in wait for you; sat cross legged on a kitchen stool, her cigarette burning down to the stub. In your mind, the events that followed were a blur of acidic words and blame, tears and bruises. It was always the same. But the cracks in the dam had been widening. The pressure had built and built until you could no longer stay silent under her heel. A swinging arm meant for your cheek was stopped in its tracks, and you had gripped at her wrist. Fire burned in your gaze hot enough to rend whole cities asunder, and for the first time in your life, you saw her. Not a monster. Not some devil. Just a woman- frightened and bitter.

That night, you packed your things, and she watched you as you left. She never tried to stop you- and you never looked back.

That was until six months ago.

She had called you, coughing and spluttering, all full of honeyed words and regrets. The choice should have been an easy one, to leave her to rot, but that wasn’t you. You were all she had. So you left behind your life in the city, your comfortable apartment, your budding acquaintances.It wasn’t much, but it was yours. It was autonomy and independence.

Now, as you scaled the stairs to your old bedroom, you felt very much as though you were fourteen again. Tiptoeing, hiding, keeping secrets. Anything to hold on to a shred of who you had managed to become in her absence.

The room had remained much the same. Dull mint green paint faded into patches of mould, band posters peeling from the damp walls. The only difference was the hoard of boxes and junk littering the floor, making the space even smaller, more suffocating. You reached somewhat blindly underneath your bed, feeling for an old glass jar. A tiny sliver of hope. The slightly meagre stack of twenty dollar bills you had earned tonight went in there for safekeeping, hidden again beneath the clutter. Almost every cent you earned went into your mother’s care, but not this. This was yours. Your lifeboat in the storm.

A shrill ring pierced your ears, and you clambered to answer the phone at your bedside before the sound awoke the house. The receiver clicked, and a voice brittled by years of smoke addressed you warmly on the other end.

“Mornin’ sugar. How was it last night?” The older woman asked, and you could hear her puffing her way through her usual pack of Newports.

“Hey, Viv,” You let out a long breath, crossing one leg over the other and scratching at the back of your neck. “Yeah, it was fine. You got something for me?”

“You sure? You sound like shit.” Vivian was always coarse, direct. She felt no need to sugarcoat.

You did sound like shit, and you felt like it. It wasn’t a lie- last night was fine. It was business as usual, nothing to report, aside from your aching muscles and scratchy throat. The client was happy with your work, and you were happy with their money.

“I’m sure. Now come on, you never call me for nothing. What is it?” You insisted quietly, a little short in your delivery.

“Jeez, kid, untwist your panties. I got another client for you, sounded like a real nervous type,” A long exhale of smoke followed. “Wants to meet tonight at the Motel on Randolph, y’know, the real classy one.”

A small chuckle left your lips. You knew the one- cheap, seedy, secluded. If it weren’t for Vivian, you might be apprehensive, but you trusted her judgement. She vetted each client as best she could before sending them to you. Any residual worry was placated by the small pen knife you kept in your purse.

“How nervous are we talking?” You asked, trying to gauge what persona you needed to wear.

“Could barely get through his sentence without stuttering. Try not to scare him off.” She joked, referencing your occasional penchant for intimidation. The men in this town were easily caught off guard by a woman who didn’t heel like a dog at their word.

“Don’t you worry, I’ll be real sweet.” You spoke, fragments of your mask for the night already beginning to come together.

“He asked specifically to meet after 2am, real night owl. And sugar-” She paused, before adopting a slightly more serious tone. “I want my cut in the mail before next week. No later.”

“Yeah, I know.” You relented, twisting the phone cord around your fingers. “I’ll get it to you.”

“You’re a good kid. Now get some sleep, I don’t want to hear about you tapping out halfway.” Her voice rattled in her throat, she coughed, and then she hung up. Ever the charmer.

The red glow of the motel sign coruscated in the delicate raindrops that danced across the window. Night had come in softly, and you sat at the weathered vanity, applying the final touches to your make-up. A tasteful satin chemise draped around your body like water, the sensation on your skin helping to calm your anxious energy. The waiting was always the hard part. It gave your mind time to dwell on little insecurities. Did you look appealing enough? Would you be able to please them in the way they wanted?

Nervous, Viv had said. The client sounded nervous. Perhaps it was his first time with someone like you. You knew that in those situations, you needed to adopt a certain demeanour. Not firm, but guiding. Leading the way with a gentle smile and an unassuming touch. Not unlike the way in which you handled the animals at the practice.

It was a delicate balance, keeping your two worlds entirely separate. Anything that fell outside of this town’s spectrum of normality was fiercely condemned, and for the sake of maintaining your day job, discretion was paramount. Though the men that took pleasure in your body by night would spurn you by day, you were used to it. It suited you. You liked sex, and you needed money. It didn’t make you wrong, or dirty, or used; anymore so than working for some exploitative corporation. It was simply transactional.

That’s not to say that it was without downsides. The work could be boring, repetitive. Lonely. Any notion you might have had about romance and dating had been all but washed away. You accepted that no one would want you if they knew, but it didn’t stop you from pining for affection. Excitement. Something different to shake up this endless hamster wheel.

Without intention, your thoughts drifted to Eddie. His sudden reappearance in your life after so many years had set you on edge in a way you hadn’t felt for a long time. He was a far cry from the boy you once knew, but the man that he was had stirred something in you. You found yourself daydreaming about his smile, how dazzling it was. How his curls lay against the curve of his shoulders, almost effortless. You bit at the tip of your finger, remembering how his damp shirt had clung to the outline of his torso, his scent as he sat across from you. Never had a man had such a dizzying effect on you so quickly. But, frivolity aside, it was unlikely you would see him again. Even if you did, he might not even want to know you, given what you were. It was just one more fleeting fancy to put to rest, in favour of your stark reality. Rousing from your imagination, you gazed into the mirror a final time, and stood to pull the hem of your stockings above your knee. Less is more, Viv always said, and you hated when she was right. Every facet of your being tonight was crafted carefully, every hair in place to assure that you were a fantasy come to life. A pristine, unconquered land waiting to be explored.

A knock at the door, timid in nature. You waited a moment, taking a long breath, before gliding over with as much confidence as you could muster. In the stillness between seconds, no amount of cherry red lipstick and dollar store perfume could have prepared you for what was on the other side.

“…Eddie?”

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Big thank you to my amazing partner @latenightsimping and the wonderful @pinkrelish for reading through this and giving me notes. Bat my darling I love you