𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐑

𝟔. 𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐲'𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬

"𝙄'𝙢 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙬𝙗𝙤𝙮
𝙊𝙣 𝙖 𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙚𝙡 𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙨𝙚 𝙄 𝙧𝙞𝙙𝙚.
𝙄'𝙢 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙤𝙧 𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙫𝙚.
𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙤𝙧 𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙫𝙚."

⬻ 𝘞𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘰𝘳 𝘈𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 - 𝘉𝘰𝘯 𝘑𝘰𝘷𝘪 ⤖

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡 𝟏𝟓𝐭𝐡, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟔

By the time the police were through gathering your statement and Max's mom finally returned home from her graveyard shift at the diner, it was well into the early morning. You were escorted out of the trailer park by two separate police cruisers just in time to see Mr. Munson pulling into the head of the neighborhood, looking confused but overall unbothered by the police presence.

He had yet to see the crime scene that had become his home.

You helped to identify the body, but anyone in Hawkins could have been able to tell whose it was from eight yards away. Besides, the monogrammed cheer jacket told them everything they needed to know; Chrissy Cunningham was dead, contorted, and mangled beyond recognition.

You never actually threw up, but some part of you wished you did because you ended up carrying that sick, nauseous feeling around with you all morning long. You drove numbly through town and past the strip of empty family-owned businesses. You didn't want to go home. You didn't want to go anywhere. All you really imagined yourself doing was curling into a ball under your blankets and staring at the same spot on your bedroom wall for the rest of your life.

But you needed to tell someone.

When you pulled into the neglected parking lot of Benny's Burgers, it took you a solid five minutes to reach over and put your car into park. It took even longer to pry your hands off the steering wheel and twist the key out of the ignition. When the door finally popped open, the raw sunlight was so bright that it blinded you for a number of seconds.

You were still in the same clothes that you wore to school yesterday, twinged with the smell of sweat and the floral laundry detergent that Max's mom bought. You found yourself staring up at the short, dilapidated building, keys twisted uncomfortably around your fist as you contemplated stepping back inside of Randy and sputtering back home before any real damage was done. 

The front door of Benny's opened and the rusted hinges cried out as Lucas Sinclair stepped halfway between the doorway and the front patio. The boys must've heard the car pull up and sent the only freshman on the team to go scope it out on their behalf. 

He smiled upon seeing you. This wasn't the first time you've shown up after one of your brother's weekend benders. Lucas was a good boy. He always made sure to call your house when Andy proved to be a little too much for the team to handle. But he quickly noticed your shaken expression and let his smile fall, closing the door halfway behind him to give the two of you an extra inch of privacy.

"(Y/N)?" he whispered cautiously, your name was like a curse in a place crawling with Hawkins Tigers. "What are you doing here?"

You barely acknowledged him as you marched up the creaky wooden steps toward the door. "Go home, Lucas." You don't recognize your own voice. In fact, you barely remember what you said to him as you shoved the door inward and stepped inside the abandoned restaurant.

Torn-up couches and sofa cushions were scattered across the sticky tile floor. The room was illuminated by strings of tangled Christmas lights and yellow beams of sunlight pierced through the torn fabric of the blackout curtains that were hung over the windows.