𝔟𝔞𝔡 𝔦𝔫𝔣𝔩𝔲𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔢 ; 𝔢. 𝔪𝔲𝔫𝔰𝔬𝔫

⁰⁹

We all sat beneath a pavilion in Forest Hills Trailer Park near Eddie's prohibited trailer. The gelid wind whisks through my cardigan, and I draw it closer to my torso. The ambiance is filled with rustling foliage, sniffles from our crimson noses, and the lapping of crime scene tape splayed over the trailer.

Turns out, Nancy's reporting cohort, was the other victim of this gruesome attack, ritual? Whatever ingenious conspiracy Dustin had demised.

In the back of the BMW, amidst many more squabbles, he revealed that a suspect in these obscene murders was Vecna — some fictitious man from some D&D doctrine.

Frankly, it was difficult to believe. But I put on a fraudulent, gullible front to appease Dustin and repel any further arguments.

The air was — daunting. Thick. Almost like all of the atypical things that occur here were looming above our heads. It was enough to send chills scuttling up my spine, the fact that Chrissy had died within ten feet of my current whereabouts.

Eddie's laying in the trunk, the car superlatively parked towards the table. The trunk is popped, just enough so he can be comprised in the conversation.

And finally, Dustin tells us his theory.

"So, you're saying — this thing that killed Fred and Chrissy," Nancy says in her apprehensive voice, twiddling her thumbs, staring at Dustin attentively, "it's from the Upside Down?"

"If the shoe fits." Steve interjects.

"Our working theory is that he attacks with a spell," Dustin shrugs, "or — a curse?"

If they hadn't acquainted me earlier with all of the elements of this Upside Down, I would've been completely adrift.

"Now whether or not he's doing the bidding of the Mind Flayer, or just loves killing teens, we don't know." He continues.

Eddie just reticently listens, occasionally dabbling with the growing stubble above his lip. Part of me feels dreadful that he can't even be seen near his own residence.

My auburn hair splays over my cheer cardigan, as I crane my neck to look at him. I stare at him through my disheveled bangs, and when he renders my poignant gaze, I smile meekly. I feel the scarlet bleeding into my cheeks when he grins back, and he lackadaisically gestures to his awkward positioning inside the small trunk of Steve's car. We share a laugh together.

Ones my attention from Eddie is revoked, Max continues. "All we know is that this is something different. Something new."

"Doesn't make sense." Nancy intervenes abruptly, her eyes fluttering shut as she feebly shakes her head. Of course, she had to dissent and sabotage the flow of our discussion.

"It's only a theory." Dustin confirms, the bleak wind stirring the brunette curls peeking from his cap.

"No, Fred and Chrissy don't make sense." She justifies, her cerulean eyes floundering amongst all of us. There's an uneasiness to her expression, like she's tormented. "I mean, why them?"

Idly, Nancy hated Chrissy and I as a duo. She would screech at us every time we would have a sleepover, and perhaps due to the fact that we would blare ABBA from my record player and all that separates Nancy and I's rooms is a picturesque Jack and Jill bathroom. But that didn't matter. Still, Nancy didn't like Chrissy. She said she collected a bad aura from her, like her hospitality was some sort of facade in order to mask spiteful motives. But that wasn't true. Nancy was just sour and Chrissy was just an earthside angel.

"Since when do you care about Chrissy?" I mutter curtly, staring at her through my bangs, which whisk in the breeze. "You used to despise when she came over."