𝐙𝐄𝐑𝐎 ★ steve harrington²

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 : tunnel vision

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 : 3.9k

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𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐍'𝐒 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐃𝐒 𝐅𝐋𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐅 𝐀 𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐄 filtered into her consciousness. The sound drifted around within her mind, almost going undetected. However, the peacefulness as she lingered in the space between a dream and reality didn't last long before the familiarity of the ringing jolted her awake. The gasp that was ripped from Owen's lungs made her sound as if she had been held underwater for days on end. Her eyes blinked rapidly as her gaze darted about the complete darkness encasing her, now accompanied only by the sound of her own harsh breathing.

But in a strange way, Owen recognized the nothingness.

She had been here before – the night after dinner at Hollands'.

Her eyes dropped to her feet, wanting to see if this world beneath her was as she remembered. Owen swallowed thickly, seeing her Converse submerged in the same shallow pool of water. The water's surface carried no reflection, merely mirroring the darkness above it and around it. Experimentally, Owen waved her hand above the watery floor, desperately looking for any sign of permanence in her being. But despite every movement of her hand, the water remained one-dimensional, a sea of shadows looking back at her.

Unable to quell her curiosity, Owen sank closer to the water at her feet. Her hand stretched out slowly, timidly. Shaking fingers connected with the blackened water, causing small waves to ripple away from where she stood. But she needed to know where the water ended, how she was standing firmly on top of it. Owen pushed her hand even further into the water, submerging everything up to the bend of her elbow before realizing that there was no end. She pulled her hand back instantly, losing her ability to understand this world around her. As the cherry on top, when her hand was retrieved from the depths below, the usual shiny remnants of water upon her skin were not present.

But that didn't make sense; none of it did. If it were truly water that she was standing in, she would have been able to see her own reflection. If it were water, she wouldn't be able to stand upon the surface. If it were water, her arm would be soaking wet. Alarmed by what such a revelation would mean, Owen's eyes trailed along the ground, looking for anything to make sense of the situation.

But a single, deafening chime from a grandfather clock stole her attention, forcing her head to snap up. Looking away from the endless shadows beneath her, the same payphone from the last time she visited this place sat a few strides away. She slowly rose from her crouched position, standing at her full height once again to inspect the payphone. Distantly, Owen thought that it looked like it had always been there.

But it hadn't, and she knew that. She had even made sure to remain in the same spot this time, meaning that she would have seen the payphone the moment that she opened her eyes.

However, this time, the phone wasn't ringing impatiently at her like it had last time. Instead, the machine sat silently in front of her, as if they were each waiting for the other's next move. Owen's head cocked to the side, daring the phone to ring. She needed answers – answers about her past, about these dreams, about her nosebleeds, about the tunnels, about all of it. Except Owen didn't actually expect the knell of the payphone to begin so soon after she willed it to.

Still, not wishing to waste even a moment, Owen's feet carried her to the phone, cold fingers lifting the receiver to her ear.

Owen opened her mouth to speak, before being cut off by the same question the voice had asked her last time she was here. "Do you know who you are?"