𝐔𝐍𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐃. ˢᵗᵉᵛᵉ ʰᵃʳʳⁱⁿᵍᵗᵒⁿ ²

009

▬ 009. 𝑖 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑖'𝑣𝑒 𝑠𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑓𝑖𝑙𝑚 𝑏𝑒𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒,
𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑖 𝑑𝑖𝑑𝑛'𝑡 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔.

    "𝐎𝐊𝐀𝐘, 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐎𝐍, 𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓." Lori said, as she placed her elbows on top of her knees, palms opening to cradle both sides of her head. "It all starts with a vision?"

    She looked up at the people around her. It was somewhere near half-past ten when they found themselves sitting in a jagged circle, in the basement of the Wheelers' house, talking. The mood in the air was so heavy, so thick with dark contemplation and unspoken thoughts that it was hard to stay focused— everyone too consumed in their own worries. It was a weird sight— but not an unfamiliar one to this exclusive group of people— to have everyone sitting around the room with their heads in their hands, staring at the ground, wringing their hands, rubbing their foreheads with palpable stress... every expression one of melancholy or poignancy. Lips were pressed hard together, chests were tight, and shoulders were tense from the story being told aloud. The details about the entire debacle uttered out before them, as if it wasn't running their minds already.

    Lori sat in an old Lay-Z-Boy patchwork chair, shoulders slumped as she leant her elbows on her knees. The whole train ride home, Robin's words rang in her ears— those details about what was going on. She had kept listening to them over and over again that whole ride, about the interdimensional wizard from the Upside Down, killing through mind control, the two murders that already occur d... Until now, she didn't know about the pattern, about the curse, and who the next victim was. Of course it'd crossed her mind, the thought that one of her friends could be next, but she'd held on to hope that it wasn't going to happen. It seemed too predictable, for one of them to picked and prodded by this wizard's little fingers after Will. But, with more details coming in, the realization dawned on Lori that it had happened before. She should've been expecting the worst.

    Because that's pretty close to what she got.

    Lori had seen this film before. She'd been sat down like this before, in front of a bunch of heavily stressed people— people who knew something she didn't. People who fostered the unfortunate privilege of "the upper hand". Sitting in front of people who looked at her sadly, with some sort of pity, some sort of longing for forgiveness before they told her the truth. She remembered it so clealy, how she'd once been sat down like this in Dustin's living room, after passing out from hitting the demogorgon in the cellar. She remembered the look on Dustin's face, how regretful and sad he'd looked to be telling her the truth. She remembered the way she looked to Steve, how he'd stared back at her with that tense look of sadness etched on his pretty face. How his voice had lowered to something serious, something warning with a hint of pity for her. How heavy his deep brown eyes had gotten, heavy with the burdening truth.

    She sort of felt like that now, except this time around, she already knew the ending to this particular kind of film. And she did not like it. 

    Dustin sat closest to her, at the edge of the couch. His expression was heavy, burdened. Lucas sat next to him hands folded together tightly, but they were jittery. His leg was bobbing up and down. Nancy stood by the staircase, leaning against it with her arms crossed and her expression tight— posture tense with emotion. Robin sat on the last step beside her, knees folded to her chest with her chin resting on top, eyes focused on the ground.

    Max. Max was the second person standing, but truly it felt like she was the only one. Really, it was because all the attention remained pinned on her as Dustin recounted the details of their day, the others adding in their own little commentary... She stood by the wall next to Steve, arms crossed tight with that rattled expression on her face. The twitch in her neck that revealed she was moments away from snapping, how she was holding everything back. Her eyes remained half-struck-wide, and she blinked repeatedly to sweep the tears away.