Billy's gone.
Ruby Buckley's world ended with him.
But Hawkins isn't done with her yet.
When strange deaths begin again, Ruby is pulled into the heart of the storm. Between shadowy nightmares, the town's newest outcast, and someone she was never s...
( songs for the chapter ) heaven knows i'm miserable now // the smiths object of my desire // starpoint
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Six months later
The scream died in her throat.
Ruby shot up in bed, breath caught, heart pounding like it was trying to escape her chest.
Sweat soaked through Billy's old Metallica shirt, clinging to her skin. Her sheets were twisted around her legs. Her hair stuck to her face.
It was still pretty dark. Or maybe just early.
The pale blue light creeping across the ceiling said morning was coming, whether she was ready or not.
She pressed both hands to her face. Her fingers trembled.
Same dream.
Same ending.
Billy's blood, hot on her hands. His voice, broken, wet, saying her name.
His eyes, open and empty.
Ruby choked on a breath and doubled over, curling into herself like she could shrink small enough to escape it.
It had been six months.
Six entire months.
And she still watched him die every night.
Please don't go, she had said.
You promised.
"I miss you so fucking much," she whispered now, into the stretched cotton of his shirt.
It smelled like laundry detergent and the past. The sleeves were too big. The neckline slipped off her shoulder. It used to make him grin when she wore it.
Now it just made her ache.
She stayed like that, folded in, wrapped in the echo of him, until the sound of footsteps stirred below. Then Robin's voice called up the stairs.
"Ruby? You awake? Steve's picking us up in twenty!"
Ruby didn't move at first. She blinked up at the ceiling, her throat raw from crying in her sleep.
Then, finally, she forced her voice to work. "Yeah. I'll be ready."
She got out of bed slowly. Everything in her body felt heavy.
She peeled off the damp t-shirt and made her way to the wardrobe. If she had to walk into Hawkins High today and pretend to be fine, she might as well look like she believed it.
She chose a black lace bra. Billy always liked that one. Then a thin, nearly sheer white v-neck that used to hang off his shoulders like water. Ripped black jeans. Dr. Martens boots.
