DISCONTINUED
Alina Fairgrieves-Byers and Gabriel Burton have learned to expect the worst, but that doesn't make things less disappointing.
𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄
( 𝐎𝐂 𝐗 𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐑 )
( 𝐎𝐂 𝐗 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐘𝐄...
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vecna's curse
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. ✧ ・゜. +・o ✧
It was dark by the time Alina and her friends arrived at Rick Lipton's house. The night was foggy, the headlights of Steve's car only managing to cut through part of the gray, and cold, too. Goosebumps swept up Alina's arms as she followed the others up to the front door, and she rubbed at them in an attempt to generate some warmth. Perhaps a part of it was the fact that she'd grown used to the weather in Lenora Hills, but she didn't want to think about that. Because that meant that Hawkins—the town she'd grown up in, the town that was supposed to be her home—had turned unfamiliar.
They all crowded onto the porch, beaming flashlights at Dustin as he rang the doorbell. Impatient at the lack of either movement or sound from within the house, he continued to jam his thumb against the button, turning the cheery two-note chime into a song of sorts. It was quick to grow tiresome for Alina.
"Okay. Well, that's settled," Steve said. "I guess he's not here."
Dustin banged on the door. "Eddie! It's Dustin. Look, we just wanna talk, okay? No cops, I swear. We just wanna help."
Alina shifted her weight from foot to foot. Around her, crickets chirped, their chorus adding an additional eeriness to the scene. A moth fluttered by, attracted to her flashlight, and a mosquito landed on her arm. She slapped it off with a little too much force.
"Do you really think he's gonna answer the door?" she asked. "I mean, murderer or no murderer, his main goal is probably to avoid people."
Dustin ignored her, slamming his fist onto the door again. "Eddie! Rick! Reefer Rick!"
"Don't scream that," Steve lectured.
"Rick!"
"He's not there."
"Reefer Rick!"
"Jesus, Dustin," Alina winced. "You're hurting my eardrums. And if the guy hasn't answered after all your screaming, I doubt he's there. Or wants to be seen."
