𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙒𝙊𝙐𝙉𝘿𝙎 𝙒𝙀 𝙎𝙃𝘼𝙍𝙀 ᵉᵈᵈⁱᵉ ᵐᵘⁿˢᵒⁿ

EPILOGUE

; M A T I L D A
wait by M83

My dear Matilda,

It's been almost a week since it happened. Steve told me it might be helpful to write down what I was feeling before... well, let me start from the beginning.

After we returned to Hawkins, everything was different. Shit, to put it directly. Turns out you weren't the only one that took some damage during the fight.

Red is almost completely gone. I mean, she looks like it. Lucas and Erica haven't really been talking about what happened, but whatever it was, it put Red in the hospital. Her condition is... well, not great.

They smuggled me in through a window once and while no one really talked, I could tell from her eyes that Lucas wasn't fast enough. I'm sorry. I know you said it was a bad idea to leave it to them. I really wish you would just appear on the doorstep right now and say something like "told you so" or some bullshit. Or anything else, really. Whatever makes me able to hear your voice one more time.

Robin, Nancy and Steve seemed pretty content with their performance when they arrived. Their joy was kind of overshadowed by them finding us, but generally they seemed to think they actually did something.

You should've seen the look on Steve's face when he saw the four giant bleeding red gaps ripping through Hawkins like angry volcanoes. I know it's weird to joke about that. I don't I'm not really sure what else to do.

When Vecna got Red, it seems like his plan worked out even though she is kind of alive still. The gates opened. They are still opening. The Hawkins PD labeled this shit as an earthquake. An earthquake.

I don't know if they actually believe that or if they're just that dumb. Wouldn't be surprised about either, to be honest.

But, well, most of Hawkins has left the town. Some for a few weeks or months, some for good. And that's pretty much it. We're leaving too, for a while at least. Nancy thinks she has some lead and Steve is super busy figuring out how the gates work and, well, I'm kind of still wanted so I'll lay low for a little while. Robin has threatened to cut my hair, which I'm also trying to flee from.

That brings me to the beginning of the letter. Steve suggested this and honestly I don't know if it makes any sense. He says it's somehow therapeutic to get the feelings out there in, like, word-form, but he's generally a pretty soft guy, so I don't know if that's really for me.

I do like the thought of getting to talk to you, though. I mean, you won't answer, I know that, I'm not crazy, but... Shit, man, I really wish you would.

I kinda wish for a lot of things these days. You know that bullshit about only longing for one last hug, one last conversation, one goodbye? They fed me all that when my... It's not all bullshit, is what I'm trying to say.