Believe It Or Not (An Eddie Munson Story)

The Cure for Pain

Steve's POV:
I watch as Chrissy, Ripley, and Eddie are all packed into separate ambulances and rushed to the hospital. I watch as police escort Chance out in handcuffs. I watch as officers come and go from Benny's, taking photos, collecting videos, and eventually rolling out two body bags.

No one even notices I am here and honestly I prefer it, my inside still numb from everything that has happened. A million thoughts race through my mind and I can't unsee the things I've witnessed, much less imagine what Ripley and Eddie must have gone through.

Eventually, Hopper wanders over to me, smoking a cigarette and a sad expression on his face.

"How are you doing, kid?" He asks. He at least doesn't ask if I'm alright, already knowing the answer. I blink a few times before fully looking up at him. I want to cry, but the tears won't come.

"I'm nearly numb," I tell him honestly. "I think I've gone into shock."

He nods and blows some smoke up into the air. He gestures back towards my car. I had moved it into the parking lot once the police had arrived.

"Why don't you head home? We are just wrapping up loose ends here. This really isn't the place for you to be at right now."

"I don't want to be alone," I tell him, again choosing to be honest.

"Why don't you stay at your parent's house then?" He asks and I stare up at him blankly. Whether I stay at my parent's house or my new apartment, the result would still be the same. I would be entirely alone. Hopper sighs heavily, realizing what my silence implies and shakes his head.

"Well, I have it on good authority that most of your little friends will be headed to the hospital soon," he mumbles. "I still think it would be better for you to go home and rest rather than spend your time at the hospital, but I can't stop you. You're an adult."

Hopper shrugs and pats me once on the back before moving back inside, throwing his cigarette butt on the ground as he goes. I fish my keys out of my pocket and head to my car.

I luckily keep a spare work shirt in my trunk and I dig it out, pulling it over my cool skin before I climb in the driver's seat. I click off the radio, preferring the silence as I drive to the hospital.

The trip is a fog, but I get to Hawkins Memorial without incident. I feel like my limbs are made of lead as I make my way up to the receptionist, a snouty looking woman with big hair and even bigger glasses. Her nails are long and they clank loudly against the keyboard in front of her as she squint at her screen. I clear my throat and she doesn't turn, making me look around for a moment. The lobby is bustling, but I thought I was loud enough. I repeat the sound, making her peek up at me annoyed before returning back to her task.

"Excuse me," I say, frustrated. "Is this not the information desk?"

She turns her gaze on me, looking me up and down for a moment and smacking loudly on her gum.

"Depends on what information you need," she says, her tone equally as annoyed as my own. I huff and lean away from her, incredulous.

"I need to know where Chrissy Cunningham, Eddie Munson, and Ripley Marro are. They should have just been bought in."

She turns to her computer and taps on the keys, the light from her screen casting different shades across her face. I tap my foot impatiently against the floor, my eyes darting around to see if anyone I may know has shown up yet.

"Friend or family?" She asks suddenly and I turn to her.

"Friend," I answer honestly and she slams a book down in front of me.