𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖆𝖑 || 𝘀. 𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘁𝗼𝗻

S1E8: The Upside Down

Jonathan drives us to his house like a maniac. The trunk of his car is filled with our weapons we'd gotten the other day, having just stolen them back from the police station.

When we arrive at the Byers' house (somehow still in one piece), we screw all the big colorful bulbs back into the Christmas lights that are still hung everywhere. Jonathan sets the bear-trap up in the middle of the hallway and checks it, making sure it's secured to the floor.

Nancy loads her gun. I put both of my knives in their sheaths and strap them to my thighs. I take Nancy's bat and hammer nails into it as a sort of back-up weapon for if things start going south. It'll also be for Jonathan to use since he'll be the only one left weaponless.

I feel a little better about this attempt at killing what the boys call the Demogorgon, since we actually have a pretty damn good plan this time, and also better weapons. But the thought of facing the monster again fills my stomach with dread.

Jonathan opens a drawer in the kitchen and pulls out some knives. "Remember..."

"Straight into Will's room," Nancy says, taking on of the knives.

"And?"

I take the other knife. "Don't step on the trap."

"Wait for the yo-yo to move," Nancy continues.

"Then..." Jonathan holds up his lighter with the flame lit. "All right. You ready guys?"

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. "Not even close..." I exhale. "But I have to be."

"On three," he begins, positioning his knife over his palm. Nancy and I do the same.

"One..."

"two..."

"Neither of you have to do this—" he says abruptly.

"Jonathan, stop talking," Nancy says.

"I'm just saying, you guys don't have to—"

"Three." Nancy slices her hand with her knife. Jonathan does it next, and lastly me.

I take in a sharp breath at the pain. Hot blood seeps through the cracks in my palm and drips onto the scratched hardwood floors. With all this blood, the monster could be here any second now.

Jonathan walks into the living room and sits down on the couch, going through a first aid kit and pulling out some gauze. I take a seat in a chair and wrap my hand in the gauze, pulling it tight before securing it. Jonathan and Nancy sit on the couch across the room, helping each other with theirs.

Something somewhere in the house creaks, causing me to jump from my seat. "What was that?"

"It's just the wind," Nancy says, not looking too sure herself.

I sit back down on the edge of the seat, looking all around the room, just waiting for the Demogorgon to erupt from the walls or charge down the hallway at us. At times I think I see the wallpaper expanding, like there's a clawed hand on the other side that's trying to break through. I shake my head. It's just my imagination.

People learn a lot about themselves in these situations. This is where the natural born heroes come into light.

Take Nancy and Jonathan for example—they're calmly sitting on the couch sharing a moment, wrapping up each other's cuts. It's sweet, kinda romantic. Sure, they're scared, but you can't really tell it. They aren't nearly as jumpy as I am.

I used to think that's how I was in these situations. The tough girl who would fight the monsters for her friends and family and keep a level head while doing so. Like the girls you read about in history books or fiction. Like Wonder Woman or Supergirl. But in reality I've learned I'm none of those things.