Raising Hel | a Stranger Things fanfiction

Chapter 4

Timeline check: sets on Saturday 22nd of March 1986 - during ST4 episode 2

*

– Mr. Munson? asks Hellen as they drive back to the trailer park.

Wayne glances at her. He was expecting the ride to go in total silence. They didn't talk much during breakfast, she only answered the few questions he asked to try and ease the heavy atmosphere. But the minute she said she was studying aeronautical engineering at Georgia Tech, he knew the conversation wasn't going to go any further. He doesn't have the brains for that. It was still better than to stay around with all the reporters starting to gather up.

– Do you know a place, uh ... somewhere Eddie could be hiding if he saw what happened to that girl?

Wayne nods at the deputy guarding the entrance and to whom he swore they would come back. To his relief, the crowd around his trailer has thinned out. Still, it's with a bitter taste of disappointment that he parks his car next to Hellen's.

– Are you asking if he saw it, or if he did it?

– No! I just ... I hope the reason he hasn't come home yet is because he's scared, not...

She wipes her face with the sleeve of her cardigan and he looks away. She looks nothing like the girls he's seen Eddie with and although he knows it's true, he finds it hard to believe the two of them are friends. But he's seen that boy's face light up so many times when one of her letters arrived and her care seems genuine. It only brings him more shame for not knowing the answer. He steps out of the car, she follows.

– To be honest, he says without looking at her. I don't know much about Eddie's whereabouts. I know he rehearses in one of his friend's garage but I couldn't tell you where it is.

Silence falls upon them again and Wayne lights a cigarette.

– Maybe I can give you my hotel's number, she says. So you can call me if you get any news?

– Sure.

It's only once she leaves that he realizes her presence, however discreet, was kind of comforting. Sitting on a wooden picnic table, staring at the yellow tape that crosses his trailer's door, he feels more tired than ever. He knows he should try and get some sleep but there's too much on his mind.

He remembers the look of pity of the sheriff's face when Wayne told them about his theory. The reason why the dead body looks familiar, with the eyes sucked inside the skull, is because he'd seen it before. This was how Victor Creel's wife and daughter were found something like 30 years ago. They said that wicked man was safely locked in the asylum but the coincidence was too obvious to push aside.

Wayne draws on his cigarette. It's so much easier to blame a poor kid with a bad reputation. Just like it's easier for Wayne to blame everyone else for his nephew's attitude instead of questioning his own parenting abilities. It's not the first time he wonders if accepting to take care of his brother's son wasn't a mistake. Maybe if his sweet Joann was still around, this would have played differently. She loved the kid like her own.

He looks down his hand, fiddles with the wedding ring he can't bring himself to remove after all these years. They are all leaving him. One after the other. His parents, his wife, his brother and now... He blinks away the wetness of his eyes. No need to put more of a show for the neighbors.

Then a reporter approaches him and the nightmare goes on.