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Act I Chapter III ━ Pennhurst Crazy
EVERYTHING WAS QUIET.
Chrissy was dead and Jules had nothing to say. All she could do was lay on the trailer floor, pressed tightly against Eddie's shaking side. Her whole body felt numb, and she couldn't sense that unbearable warmth anymore. It was gone, just like Chrissy.
❝I'm dreaming.❞ Eddie whispers into the silence, causing Jules' head to turn, breaking her fixated stare on the body lying not three feet away from them. ❝This has gotta be a nightmare.❞
Jules finds her voice. ❝If Freddy Krueger walks through that door, I will piss my goddamn pants.❞
She pushes herself to stand, hands wrapping around Eddie's to pull him up with her. They need to leave. It doesn't look good for two freaks to be standing over a dead body, especially that of Hawkins' golden girl. They'll be slapped with twenty to life, left to rot in a cell for the rest of their days.
❝Come on.❞ He urges in her ear, heading for the door.
She remembers her spilled tapes. If the cops found them, they'd know she was here. That would defeat the whole point of running.
She grabs as many as she can see, throwing them carelessly into her bag. They clatter sharply, colliding with each other as they fall. When she heads for the door, her elbow knocks against something light, the object sliding into her bag along with the tapes. She doesn't notice, too focused on getting out of there.
Her life is fucked now. Even if she's found innocent ━ she should be, considering she is ━ the town would never forget. They'd always think of her as the girl who helped murder Chrissy Cunningham. A devil worshipper, an agent of Satan. A brutal psychopath. A stone cold killer.
Heavy footfalls echo in her ears as she charges down the steps and across the barren lawn, heading straight for the van that was rumbling with vigor. Eddie, clutching the steering wheel, looks like he's going to vomit. Jumping in, she barely has her ass in the seat before he's screeching away from the trailer, away from the murder scene.
Jules feels like she's suffocating. Her lungs constrict, fingernails biting her searing hot palms. She wants to turn back time, go back to when this hadn't happened. Back to when Chrissy was alive and all Jules had to worry about was her headache and her failing math grade. She doesn't even notice that she's started crying until her vision is wet and blurry.
Eddie's quiet. His white-knuckled grip on the wheel makes the rubber groan, begging to be let go. He hasn't eased on the gas ever since he'd pushed against the pedal, desperate to put as much distance as he could between them and the trailer park.
