𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝𝐬 𝐀𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝𝐬 𝐀𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟒

[Friday, March 22nd, 1986. NOW.]

With the police lights flashing in the blushing light of sunrise, like fireworks illuminating the hoard of cops buzzing about the Munsons' tailer, the surreal sight of poor Chrissy Cunningham's broken body carried away in a black body bag like trash, you made a decision. "We need to go. Now. We need to find Eddie before the cops do."

There was a beat of shocked silence, broken only by the buzzing static sound of RT units and the clamour of voices while the cops started carrying around cardboard boxes of – of what, exactly? Evidence?.

Max and Robin stared at you as if you'd gone completely batshit crazy, before Max echoed, "Find him? Where would we even start? He's on the run."

"I mean, if he didn't hijack or steal a car on the way, he's on foot," Robin assessed, "That means he can't be very far yet but he could be hiding in the woods or –"

You cut her off. "I know where he is."

"Okay," Robin retorted, her voice rising a few octaves as she threw a glance at Max to seek help. "Let me sum that up: the guy I never even saw you talk to, like, ever, despite that one time when he stood up for you against Jason in the cafeteria – which, I admit, was very cool and sweet and all – flees the scene of a brutal murder he might or might not have committed – and I can't stress the fact enough that there has been a very dead cheerleader found in Eddie Munson's trailer after she went inside with him alone, and you seem, like, super chill about the fact that Eddie might have killed her which really creeps me out a little by the way, trusting-in-your-instincts-wise because up to now I thought you had a very good intuition – and you want us to find him?"

"Yes," you replied sharply. "And I'm pretty sure I know where he is. Are you coming or not?"

"I'm gonna get my backpack," Max announced drily.

"Wait, so now we're taking the fifteen-years-old on a murder hunt? That'll be my second case of child endangerment after dragging Erica Sinclair into that secret Russian lab," Robin quipped as the two of you watched Max vanish inside the Mayfield's trailer.

"He's innocent, Robin." You'd wanted for your voice to sound firm, but the words came out in a desperate, broken whisper as you pressed your face into your hands in an attempt to stifle the tears which had been threatening to spill.

"Hey," Robin's soft coo floated through the air as her hands wrapped around you in an awkward embrace, and she helplessly patted your shoulder. "I'm sorry. Please, please, please don't cry because I can't stand to see the people I love cry –"

"Okay, I'm ready," Max chimed up, the screen door to the trailer falling shut behind her, and your head snapped up. She'd swapped the pyjamas for loose-fitting sweatpants and an oversize jacket, the headphones around her neck like armor and her backpack flung over her shoulder. She cocked an eyebrow. "Are we having a therapy session or are we going?"

"We're going."

You didn't wait for Max and Robin to reply before you pulled out of Robin's embrace and hurried up the gravel towards your car parked at the side of the road, the bright yellow crime scene tape blocking the road down to the Forest Hills trailer park fluttering in the spring breeze like streamers left over after a party as the first onlookers arrived at the scene – and the first reporters.

And if the media started broadcasting about what had happened, even if the cops refused to give out Eddie's name yet...it would only be a question of time until people connected the dots on their own.

Every second ticking by was precious time running out for Eddie.

You couldn't waste a single one of these seconds.