Innocent | Eddie Munson x OC

Chapter 17

"I was trying- I was slamming on the buttons, but I couldn't get your song on-" Eddie rushed, pacing back and forth animatedly. "It just stayed on, and I didn't wanna break the damn thing-"

"Eddie," I said weakly.

He froze, me not having spoken yet.

"I think that was my mom."

He looked away dramatically, as if there was someone to give a concerned and disgruntled expression to, then returned my gaze, pointing to his head in exaggeration. "I think Vecna really ate away at those internals."

"No, for real." I shook my head. "It was mimicking you. It told me- well, it told me some things I haven't wanted to hear. You hated me. I turned away, and then as it was using my mom's likeness, I heard the song."

I closed my eyes, remembering her state. "I turned back, and it was her. Not Vecna using her, but her. She was glowing, brighter than any light I'd ever seen. She was rising, and then she looked to me, and she told me-"

I swatted a stray tear away, pausing to adjust to the break in my voice. I coughed, continuing. "She told me she loved me. And she thanked me. And then- I came back."

Eddie seemed beyond confused, but simply released a disbelieving scoff. "Fuck, man."

I scratched at my raising hairs on the back of my neck, still feeling in a slight trance. "I don't think I'm in the clear."

Eddie seemed about to say something, but there was a slam outside the front of the house, which sounded a lot like a car door. A rousing cry and responsive cheers followed, and I met Eddie's wide eyes with my own. We scrambled in sync, him grabbing the walkie-talkie, me grabbing the boombox, and both of us running into a back bedroom for shelter.

"Shit, shit, shit," Eddie rasped as he slammed the door shut, his whisper high-pitched, and vein in his forehead making an appearance.

I shuffled around the room, looking for anything to defend ourselves with. I heard the front door slam on its hinges, signaling that they were going to be entering the house in a very small amount of time. The only defensive weapon available was a lamp much larger than either of us were, or several shoes. But maybe we didn't need defense.

"Eddie," I hissed, "The window,"

He flicked his head around, raising his palms to it. He began muttering gibberish in praise. His composure in tough situations had clearly crumbled. We managed to yank it open with a few desperate shoves, right as the front door sounded to cave in. I dove out, brushed some leaves out of my hair, then turned to him. He was about to clamber right after me.

"We need our shit!"

"Our shit!" Eddie reemphasized, running back into the room and launching the boombox and walkie-talkie out the window. I managed to catch one of those.

He dove, then grabbed the window from the outside and shut it. He clutched the walkie-talkie to his chest as we both heaved strained gasps, listening to the carnage of glassware occurring somewhere near the kitchen. He pushed the walkie down to rest in his pants, and I averted my gaze, though there wasn't much that had shown. Just the action made me burn red. He crouched a bit, peaking over the sill to see if there were any aggressors inside.

"We could make a run for it," I suggest quietly, scanning the wooded surroundings hesitantly.

"Nah, I think there's a lot more of them." Eddie responded, coming back to my level. "But I think I've got an idea."

We scurry from the window and into the boathouse nearby, watching carefully for any spectators lingering on the front lawn. This was a feat, of course, given it was almost completely dark outside, now. When we reach it, Eddie flicks on a light, like he's well acquainted with the layout. He then begins clambering about the shed, foot slipping into the water for a second.