letters that i can never send
words: 25,571
Chrissy/Tina | Teen and Up Audiences | POV Tina | Ghost Chrissy Cunningham | Letters | Right Person Wrong Time | Unhappy Ending
beyond excited to get to share my fic for @sapphicstevents' stranger things sapphic mini bang!! writing it definitely fought me for a while but i'm really proud of this fic.
so here's the first chapter and a cover i threw together to post it with! the whole fic is up on ao3 here, and @hullomoon has been amazing and created a podfic of the work for anyone interested in listening <3
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Chapter 1 : A Pack Of Green Scrunchies
words: 5,739
June 20th, 1986
Dear Chrissy,
I wish I had known you before everything went mad.Â
I think I told you that before, but I mean it now more than I meant it then. It feels so crazy to think that we went through school walking past each other in the halls and not even glancing in each otherâs direction. I know that I did the same thing to other kids but it still feels impossible.
My mom took me out to the mall the other dayâthereâs a mall in this town, not like the destroyed one in Hawkins. Itâs full of people and stores and it's loud. I didnât like it. I always used to find it annoying how quiet Hawkins was sometimes, but I hate how loud it is here. Thereâs too many people talking and smiling and I canât see them without thinking about how oblivious I was before I met you.
They were selling scrunchies in one of the stores. My mom was looking for a new purse but I stopped to look at them instead. I bought a pack of green ones because they made me think of you. I wonder if thatâs what you would smell like; cotton fabric and lingering perfume from my wrist.
I miss you.Â
Tina.
â
The lights in the hospital waiting room hum with an electric static. Even under all the anxious chatter and background noise of the hospital, itâs the only thing Tina can hear. Well, that and the fading ringing in her ears.
Her hands clench and unclench around the hem of her shirt as she watches the minutes tick by. Beside her, her dadâs leg bounces up and down. Sheâs not sure if heâs aware of her watching him. The man stares ahead down the crowded hall through the chaos as if her mother will suddenly appear there, good as new.
Tina doesnât say anything, just reaches out and entwines their fingers, letting out a sigh of relief as her father squeezes her hand back. She needs his strength to lean on. It doesnât matter that, rationally, Tina knows her motherâs injuries from the earthquake were far from the most severe that came through those hospital doors today.
Sheâs never been more scared than she was when her dad came stumbling out of the rubble, shirt bloodied and with her momâs arm over his shoulder to support her weight. Tina had been so frantic that she canât even remember if her mother had been conscious at that point. She was out cold during the drive to the hospital, though; the sounds of ambulances and firetrucks and police cars responding to the destruction werenât even enough to break her from her state. Her father had somehow remained stoic then, too.
Thankfully, itâs not too much longer before a nurse lets them visit her mom. After hours of waiting, theyâre more than ready to see how sheâs doing.Â
With all the trouble caused during the disaster, her mom is crammed into a room with other people, separated only by a flimsy curtain. Around them, the relieved reconciliation of other patients and their families fade into the background as Tina reaches her motherâs side and grasps at her hand where it lays atop her blankets.Â
IVs poke into her skin and wires trail off to monitors she doesnât even begin to want to look at. Instead, Tina focuses her gaze on her momâs weary face. She looks tired, eyes rimmed with dark circles that are only accentuated by the pale colouring of her skin. But she seems okay, all things considered, and Tina sighs out in a relieved whoosh of breath.
The nurse goes over her momâs condition with her dad, but Tina hardly takes in a wordâthe moment the nurse confirms that her mom will be okay, she tunes her out entirely. Instead, Tina drinks in the sight of her mom, brushing a careful thumb over her scraped knuckles and almost tearing up when her mom gives her a small smile in return.
Eventually, the nurse hurries off again and Tinaâs dad slumps into a chair beside the bed. Tina barely glances his way, too scared to look away from her mom, convinced that if she so much as takes her eyes off her, something terrible will happen again.
âTina,â her mom sighs. âIâm okay. You donât need to look so worried.â
Tina shakes her head.
âI was so scared,â she manages, voice cracking under the tears she spent so long suppressing. They finally rush down her face in a flood of emotion, tasting salty where they converge in the corners of her mouth.
âOh, baby,â her mom says, voice softening. âItâs going to be okay now, okay? Why donât you go and get some rest, you look exhausted.â
Tina canât help but laugh at that, an ironic, choking thing. âIÂ look exhausted?â
âWell,â her mom smiles before shifting slightly and doing her best to smother a wince. âIâm already laying down and getting rest. Iâm more worried about you.â
Guilt stabs Tinaâs heart like a blade. Her momâs the one in a hospital bed, with doctors and nurses hovering around outside to help if needed, and yet Tinaâs the one acting like the worldâs weighing down on her shoulders. Itâs shameful in its own way.Â
Tina always thought she was strong enough to be her parentsâ equal. She did well enough in school and had plenty of friends; her parents saw how grown up she was and even helped her plan her Halloween parties; her mom told her everythingâevery annoying thing someone at work said, every snippy little complaint about her dad forgetting to hang the washing outâŚ
And here she is now. Comforting Tina like sheâs a little kid in need of a nap and not a seventeen-year-old who should be better than this. So, she shakes her head, plastering on a smile even as her eyes sting with another wave of tears and, admittedly, exhaustion.
Before she can put up much protest, her dad pipes up to agree with her mom. It doesnât leave enough room for anything more than Tina going along with what they want. Her dad almost follows before he hesitates, catching her momâs eye. She nods back at him.
âWhy donât you see about finding some dinner for us two? I wonât be far behind you, I just need to have a talk with your mom.â
What is Tina supposed to do about that other than leave? Sheâs obligated to listen to her parents, even if she wants to stay. Besides, sheâs sure sheâll be visiting her mom as often as she can until sheâs discharged.Â
So, itâs fine. All this is fine.
When she gets to the door, Tina turns and looks back at her parents one last time. With all the other people talking in the room, she canât make out what her parents are discussing. What she can make out is the way her fatherâs face pinches into a concerned frown.Â
Whatever it is they wanted to talk over without her must be serious. Resigned, Tina sets off in search of the cafeteria. It feels strange, pushing on through crowds of the distraught and the injured. Against her better judgement, her eyes catch and linger on the horror around her.Â
Nothing will ever be the same after this, not in Hawkins at least. Too much bad has happened, too much to even let herself think about.
By the time her dad finds her in the cafeteria that evening, the dinner that Tina bought them has long since gone cold.
â
School doesnât reopen until a week laterâa week filled with funerals and clean up and searching for anyone still buried under the rubble. During that time, Tina recovers what she can from her trashed house to cram into some other girlâs bedroom. She should probably count her lucky stars that its usual inhabitant left for college a year ago, otherwise she would be knocking elbows in this little spaceâseemingly so much smaller than her own room was.
She longs for home: for her corkboard of polaroids of herself and her friends, for each marker line creeping up her door frame dedicated to a year of her life, for her fuzzy blue blanket, and for so many more little comforts that she had taken for granted. Staying here, in someone elseâs bedroom while her dad stays on the pull-out downstairs, makes her feel strangely like a jigsaw piece jammed into the wrong puzzle.
Thereâs nothing to be done about that, with the roof of her house half-collapsed itâs not like they have much choice other than this. She is grateful that her dadâs work friendâMr. Danielsâtook them in, but that doesnât stop her longing for what sheâs lost.
Returning to class brings back none of the normality she longs for, either. Sure, the cracks in the road outside have been hastily paved over for the most part and the classrooms have been deemed safe to return to despite whatever state the earthquake had left them in, but everything has so clearly shiftedâŚ
All Tina sees, everywhere she looks, are the empty seats. The ones from kids whose families fled the town are one thing, one type of grief for the friends sheâs not sure sheâll ever see again. The rest are something else entirely, vacant seats that will never be filled; those seats offer no question to their absence in Tinaâs life.
So far, she has been to eight funerals. Three of them were some of her best friends. She didnât sleep the nights after any of those. After the last one, she hasnât been able to bring herself to attend any more; it turns out that thereâs only so many bodies you can handle saying goodbye to within such a short period of time.
Mr. Clarke clears his throat, trying to recapture the forlorn attention of the room. Even he canât seem to muster a genuine smile so Tina doesnât know how he expects the students to care about any of this. Honestly, sheâs surprised the school has even bothered swapping teachers to fill in for staff absences with how little chance they have at passing their exams after all this. If their grief wasnât enough, having a teacher so clearly unprepared to deal with older kids isnât going to help them learn at all.
She remembers Mr. Clarke from middle school and almost, very briefly, feels bad for thinking poorly of him. Heâd been a nice enough teacher. Sheâs sure heâs still nice enough, but she just doesnât have it in her to care about stuff like that anymore. Not after everything. Sheâs not sure how she fits into this new, broken version of Hawkins; how the hell should she be able to care about how everyone else fits in?
Slowly, the eyes of the class do raise to the man where he stands, squirming at the front of the room, backdropped by the chalkboard covered in scrawled science Tina hasnât understood a word of. She canât help but think that their usual teacher would have explained it in a way that made so much more sense to her.
She doesnât know if that teacher is one of the leavers or worse.
Everyone sits quietly as Mr. Clarke stumbles his way through telling them about the commemorative assembly that is going to be held in the gym. Both schools will be coming together in a few days time to remember their lost friends, or at least thatâs the plan.
Silence hangs in the air for another excruciating moment. Then the whispering finally begins. Names get thrown around, ones Tina is sure must belong to the dead.
âJason,â someone whispers.
âCarol,â says another.
âNicoleââ
The whispering gets cut off abruptly by the scraping of a chair as itâs shoved out from under its desk. Some kid launches himself to his feet and stalks out of the room, eyes red-rimmed. Behind him, the classroom door slams shut on a spluttering Mr. Clarke.
Whispers start up again in the wake of his sudden departure. This time, Tina tunes them out. Instead, she sets her thoughts adrift, steering away from anything too dour to think on. She doesnât want to deal with this today. Theyâve only been back at school for a day.Â
She isnât ready for this yet. It doesnât feel like there has been nearly enough time for any of them to come to terms with this. How the hell are they going to get through these last two months of school andâ
âTina!â
Blinking back to her senses, Tina looks up, across the lunch table and to whoever called her name. Itâs Vicki, looking at her with wide, concerned eyes. She probably should be concerned, Tina can only vaguely recall walking to the cafeteria, sheâd been so trapped in her own mind.
âSorry, what did you say?â she asks.
Itâs just the two of them, perched on the edge of a sparsely populated table. Their group used to be a lot bigger.
âIââ Vicki starts, hesitates, and then leverages a painfully forced smile onto her face. âI asked if you figured out what you wanted to do at college yet.â
She wants to wince, to cringe away from the inane topic. It makes her feel sick to pretend that everything is normal. People died, other people got hurt, the town is a mess. Why would they be worrying about stuff like this as if it means anything at all anymore?
âI donât know. With my mom in the hospital everythingâs changed. I havenât had time to think about it.â
Vicki squirms uncomfortably at her confrontational tone, looking chastised. It makes her deflate a little, feeling suddenly very cruel. Just because Tina doesnât know how to play at being normal, doesnât mean she has to be such an ass to her friend over it. She still cares about her and being a bitch is only going to drive a wedge between them. Itâs not like she has many friends left after everything, either.
Her hands tremble in her lap and she shakes them out as if that might banish some of her simmering nerves. It doesnât. With a tense kind of control, Tina pushes up to her feet. Vickiâs eyes swivel up to her, surprised by the abrupt shift.
âBathroom,â Tina chokes out, trying to tamper down the frustration in her voice.
âTinaâŚâ Vicki starts but Tina is already walking away.
The lighting in the bathroom is dingy and off-putting, and yet the electric buzzing of those fluorescents still puts her in mind of sterile hospital walls. Her momâs been making a great recovery, she reminds herself. Sheâll be home before she knows it. Maybe then everything will start going back to normal.
The porcelain basin of the sink stares, glaringly white up at her as she leans over, splashing her face with metallic-tasting water from the old taps. Her ragged breaths send speckles of water back into it as it drips in trails down her face. Sheâs probably smudged her makeup now, and it didnât even help at all.
With a choked sob, Tina turns her face upwards, meeting the paled expression of her reflection; eyes wide, droplets of water clinging to mascara-tinted lashes. But thatâs not all she sees.
A sick feeling of horror settles deep in her stomach as she notices something from the corner of her eyeâsomething hovering behind her, in the corner of the bathroom. The room had been empty when she came in. Heart hammering, startled by being snuck up on, Tina whirls around to seeâ
Nothing.
Just an empty, dingy, school bathroom. The green doors of toilet stalls stare back at her impassively as she clutches a hand to her chest, willing her racing pulse to settle.
It was nothing. It was her mind playing tricks on her. It had to be nothing. Because if not, how could she explain that fleeting glimpse of the ghost of Chrissy Cunningham?
â
Tinaâs pen taps restlessly against the Danielsâ kitchen table, the only sound in the eerily silent house.
Sharing a living space with another family comes with all the chaos one would expect, with each of their routines clashing loudly and incompatibly as they stumble around each other each morning and night. And yet the quiet moments like this are almost worse, when everyone is out working or visiting the hospital or whatever else it is these people do. Aside from Tina, itâs empty. Abandoned, almost, like the rest of this god-forsaken ghost town.
She scratches a frustrated line through her pitiful homework attempt and pushes it away across the table, out of sight and out of mind as she stares distractedly out the window. The chair she sits on creaks as she leans to the side, trying to look out into the street. Usually at this time of the evening, kids would be running around, excited and playing in the warm spring air. Usually parents would be seen and heard, trying to cajole their kids inside for whatever they had cooked up or ordered in for dinner.
Tonight, there is nothing but a creeping sunset that paints the sky a dull pink, like drops of blood diluted in a lake of blue. There is no one finding time to play, and no one enjoying a peaceful evening, and Tinaâs parents arenât here. Itâs just her, alone with her anxious mind.
She should be at the hospital, trying her best to be there for her dad and checking in on her mom. But going there again and again felt like poisoning herself, losing herself in worry that would set her heart pounding and mind spiralling. It doesnât matter to her scared brain that she knows her mom is doing much better, she still canât help but feel sick with worry.
And sheâs so tired. It makes visiting her mom so difficult because her mom gives her this pitiful, concerned look whenever she sees her like this. Tina just canât take that; being a burden to her parents instead of a place of support. They have nothing to be worried about, really. Itâ Sheâs just tiredâŚ
She canât sleep with worrying about if something happened to her mom in the night, or if another earthquake might come to completely level this damn town. And whatâs more, her mind hasnât been able to stray far from the thought of what she sawâor what she thinks she sawâin that damn bathroom. Any time her mind has a chance to wander, her thoughts get inevitably dragged back to that sight.
She had only glimpsed her for a fleeting moment but that had been enough. Enough to see the shape of blood splatters on her cheer uniform and the inhuman pallor of her skin⌠Now, every soundâevery creaking shift of this unfamiliar house, every car driving by, every sudden noiseâleaves her jumping, expecting to see something horrific around her as if sheâs being tormented by some twisted apparition. She hates it.
She should know better than this, she doesnât even believe in ghosts! Whatever she saw must just be a trick of the mind. And yet.
With a frustrated groan, Tina pushes her chair out from the table and stands. Sitting around like this is doing her no good, either. Itâs like she canât escape any of this worry for even a second. Or, at least, she canât when crammed into too-small rooms that have no space for the shape of her grief.
Her loaned keys chime against each other as she snatches them from the countertop. She just needs to get out of the house, walk around and clear her head. Maybe then all this anxiety can start to dissipate and the memory of that hallucination will fade.
Locking the door behind her, Tina wanders off in whatever direction her feet decide to take her.Â
The air is clear outside and she hopes that might ease some of the tension that she has been holding, coiled and aching, within her. Itâs hard to remember that she doesnât need to be prepared for something awful to happen, because chances are nothing will.
She wishes she believed that.
Every time she blinks back to awareness, she finds herself on a different stretch of road that she canât recall making the conscious choice to head to. This walk clearly isnât doing anything for her. Clear her mind? What a ridiculous idea. How the hell could a place as fucked up as Hawkins bring her any relief, no matter where she might go or what she might do? Itâs like the only thing her body knows how to do here anymore is to run on autopilotâto keep her body moving as her thoughts keep on spiralling.
She stills, taking a frustrated breath and at least trying to keep track of where sheâs ended up. Her eyes scan her surroundings, taking note of how the efforts to fix up the town haven't reached this far yet, great deep cracks still clear and precariously crisscrossing the roads, splitting the asphalt open to reveal the exposed bowels of the earth.
Itâs not something sheâs that surprised by. Ahead of her, the road turns off into the trailer park. It makes sense that no one has prioritised fixing up things around here. With the abandoned yellow streamers of police tape, catching and glinting in the golden hour, itâs only too easy to remember what happened here all too recently.
Tina cringes at the sight of them, dancing in the gentle breeze like they donât know what they mean. Like they donât know a girl was massacred inside that place. Still, she canât quite tear her eyes away. For a long, breathless moment, she just stares, caught in the bone-deep wrongness of that place. And then, like ice slithering down her spine, a stomach-churning feeling of horror settles upon her. It takes a hold in her chest before she even realises the cause of it.
Just barely visible from this far away, lingering in the window of the Munsonâs trailer, is the shape of a person, standing stock-still. The longer she stares, breaths shallow and fast under the weight of that settling dread, the more the distant shape seems to resemble a girl, its silhouette becoming more convincingly feminine as that agonising second draws out longer and longer, running on forever as her gaze refuses to budge from the sight.
Itâs like time has stopped.Â
Tina doesnât realise sheâs stepping away until her feet scuff against the uneven ground and she nearly loses her balance. That, at least, is enough to break her out of her trance even if the terror sinking into her stomach refuses to dissipate; she rips her gaze away from the trailer as if burned. It feels like the shape of that figure is scorched into her retina now.
Unwilling to look back at that window, Tina runs.
â
Sitting through the commemorative assembly in the schoolâs gymnasium is like pulling teeth. Every word jars her, striking through with pained awareness of how overcrowded the room is playing host to two schools and yet not nearly as crowded as it should be.
She feels like an exposed nerve, too vulnerable for this. Her eyes burn with exhaustion and the threat of tears.
At some point she stops listening entirely, too mentally overwhelmed as she tries not to think about anything at all if it will get the ringing in her ears to stop. As she looks down at her hands, the shadows cast by the lines of her palms form a dark echo of the blood and grime she remembers from that day. She had to trim her nails as short as she could to get rid of the last traces of it.
When theyâre finally dismissed, the end of the speeches coinciding with the end of the school day, Tina lingers behind at a shout of her name.
Waving over at her from through the dispersing crowd is Vicki. There are strained creases around the corners of her eyes as she weaves her way to meet Tina but she valiantly keeps a smile in place, something more than Tina can say for herself.
âYou want to tag along with me? Iâm heading to meet Samantha, she snuck some of her parents' booze in all the confusion so weâre going to meet up and let off some steam.â
âSamantha Stone?â Tina clarifies. âSince when do you hang around with Samantha?â
Vicki scoffs. âSince almost everyone else is gone.â
Tina presses her lips together to keep the sudden roll of nausea at that blasĂŠ statement at bay. Vicki seems to pick up on it, her expression dimming marginally with her concern, but she chooses not to question it. Instead, she strides on, head held high.
âAnyway, we all have peopleâs memories to drink to. I cannot deal with the aftermath of that stupid assembly while sober. So, you coming or what?â
Tina takes a steadying breath and follows. After all, itâs not like sheâs got any better ideas.Â
The crowd that gathers at the edge of the schoolâs field is a mishmash of different people, most of whom Tina has only ever seen around each other in the classroom or at her own parties. They seem to clump together uncertainly, stilted conversations offered between each other about inane topics that Tina doesnât have the energy to entertain.
Regardless, she loiters around with the group, accepting whatever drinks get thrust into her hand and taking great gulps to avoid joining any conversations. Listening is more than enough, if you can even class what sheâs doing as listening.Â
Everyone else, at least, seems on the same page about getting shit-faced. As the hours creep by, shoulders finally start to slump and the group gets rowdier the drunker they get. Bottles are uncapped with grandiose claims of them being in honour of someone who couldnât be there with them.
Silently, Tina raises her own drink, the faces of her friends flashing in her mindsâ eye.Â
At some point, Vicki leaves her place at Tinaâs side. She looks up to see her, arms interlocked, with Samantha and laughing the way she only does when sheâs really tipsy. For a second, Tina considers going over to talk to them, but when she gets up from her spot on the bench her body feels clumsy and uncoordinated. Itâs probably better that she stays here, leaning against the seat for support.
Thereâs another kid who could probably benefit from the same. Heâs pale aside from a splotchy flush to his cheeks as he stumbles ungainly out from the tree line.
âDidnât get lost taking a piss then?â his friend taunts as he wobbles his way back over to their side.
âI think I just saw a ghost,â he says in a daze.
Everyone laughs at that. Tina tries not to think at all.
The sun is creeping towards the horizon and Tina is far too many drinks in when the nausea finally hits her. It feels like a physical thing, crawling its way up her throat.
âShit,â she gasps, floundering up onto her feet at last and heading blindly into the trees. At least there she might have just a smidge more privacy in her shame.
Her sneakers shuffle over uneven earth, hesitant at first until the need to puke becomes too much and she hurries further along, with all the uncoordinated grace she can muster. Knees meet the ground and an arm braces against a tree as she sucks in deep breaths. They slowly soothe the sickness away. In the end, sheâs not sure if itâs better or worse that she didnât actually vomit.
Head still hazy, she looks up and widens her awareness back to her surroundings.
âYou have got to be kidding me,â she says, clambering back to her feet, as she spots them.
Itâs a girl. Itâs too far away to be sure but she looks to be dressed in a cheer uniform, at least from what Tina can see. The girl is curled around herself, sitting with her back against a tree and her head in her hands.
This could be it. This could be that same hallucination.Â
Tina should just goâwhether or not this is real, she just needs to leave it alone. If this is just some other student from their drunken group, then her crying is none of Tinaâs business. Hell, sheâs had to step away for private moments herself and itâs not the sort of thing you want to be walked in on. And if this is Chrissy, then⌠Well, then that doesn't bode well to think about.
Leaves and twigs crunch underfoot, stealing any stealth she might have managed, as Tina approaches. Not like it matters, the girl doesnât react at all, as if she canât even hear her.
The closer she gets the less she can deny it. That strawberry-blonde hair, held back from her face by a green scrunchie; that small stature; the familiar cheer uniform, speckled with somehow still-red blood⌠She may not have known Chrissy personally, but Tina had certainly seen her around enough to be able to recognise her.
She slows to a stop, looking down at the figure of her. From here she can see that her head isnât actually in her hands. Sheâs covering her ears, muttering something under her breath that Tina canât quite make out without getting closer.
Tinaâs mouth opens to speak but she finds it suddenly dry, her throat barren. She clears her throat, the sound perversely loud in the atmosphere around her.
âChrissy?â she manages finally, voice little more than a whisper.
Chrissyâs head snaps up to look at her, eyes wide and frantic. Her whole body tenses, posture coiling and shifting as if sheâs preparing to bolt, and for a moment Tina feels that same need to flee echoed in herself. Neither of them do.
Tearful, blue eyes take in Tinaâs face before some of the fight seems to drain from her, slumping infinitesimally against the tree behind her. Tina, though, doesnât relax and her alcohol slowed mind fumbles to come to grips with the sight before her.
Chrissy, where she sits in the leaves and dirt and forest debris, is so pale. Every so often, the very vision of her seems to flicker in Tinaâs sight, as if the girl herself were not fully corporeal⌠trapped between this world and the next.
âAre⌠Are you real?â Chrissy breathes, voice small and broken.
The irony of that startles a laugh from Tina before she can help it.Â
Shouldnât she be the one asking that? Chrissy is the dead girl out of the two of them. If either of them should be mistrusting their minds right now, it should be Tina. Because if ghosts arenât real, as Tina had always believed so strongly, then how can Tina be facing this right now?
âAm I real?â she scoffs, voice bordering on hysterical. âYouâre the dead girl here.â
âWhat?â Chrissy asks in that same crushed tone.
âYouâre dead,â Tina tells her, because what else is there to say?
Somehow, Chrissy seems to pale further, as if blood was rushing away from her non-existent face.
âNo. N-no. Iâm not, I canât be. What are you talking about?â
âYou died. In the Munsonsâ trailer.â
âYouâre lying. Iâm right hereâI canât beââ Chrissyâs voice becomes shrill and stricken with panic before an anger steals over her features. âThis isnât funny. What kind of joke is that? I justâI need to get home.â
Tina scoffs, almost disbelieving, and steadies her swaying against a low-hanging branch.
âI went to your funeral. Youâre dead. And I must be going crazyâŚâ
The last part comes out half as a laugh, half as a sigh. Itâs a fact sheâs resigned herself to uncomfortably quickly, but what other explanation could there be? People donât just see visions of dead girls sitting around and telling them they canât be dead if theyâre not mad.
Chrissyâs expression glazes over, seeming to be lost in her own mind as a fresh wave of tears give a new shine to those mournful eyes.
âYouâre lying,â she says again, but this time she sounds more defeated than accusing, like it makes sense to her even if she doesnât want it to be true.
Or Tinaâs mind thinks Chrissy shouldnât want it to be trueâif Chrissyâs ghost actually was in front of her, that is. But she isnât, because that would be preposterous. Sheâs just had too much to drink, and sheâs been feeling paranoid, and itâs not as if sheâs been able to rest since all of this began.
She doesnât know why sheâs indulging this in the first place.Â
Her mouth opens to say something to that effect. Surely she has some smartass comment about it all, but all that remains in her mind are the wispy impressions of the thought as she tries her best to reorient herself. In the end, she gets nothing out before a voice calls out for her.Â
Damn, sheâs been out here for too long. Sheâs not even really sure how much time has slipped away without her notice between her leaving the gathering and ending up where she stands now.
Right, that decides it, sheâs leaving. Thisâall of thisâis something she doesnât want any part in. Not ghosts, or hallucinations, or whatever any of this is and certainly not while sheâs drunk. There are a thousand more important things she could be worrying about, she chides herself as she turns on her heel and sets her eyes on the way back. In fact, sheâs mid-step when a feeble voice calls out for her.
âPlease, donât go. Iâm scared to be aloneâŚâ
Tina pauses, her heart pounding.
âI need to get back,â she says; to herself, because there is no one else there.Â
For a moment, Chrissy is quiet. Tina almost thinks the hallucination has finally dissipated when she speaks up again.
âWill you come back?â
Tinaâs heart stutters in her chest. This isnât real. None of this is real. She turns to look behind her and Chrissy is gone, not even a trace of her to be seen.Â
âTina!â
âYeah,â Tina replies, the words mumbled to herself, as she finally unsticks her feet from the ground to return to the group.Â
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chapter 2













