𝔸𝕥 𝕊𝕚𝕩𝕖𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕊𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟𝕤

ꜰʀᴇᴇᴅᴏᴍ ⑭

Saturday, November 12th, 1983

Tyler stepped over one crimson splash of blood to the next, his eyes wide as he scanned the murky street for any signs of life.

"More blood," Hopper reported, his flashlight tracing the splatters that dotted the road. Whether the mysterious liquid was human or not was a key point that urged Tyler's pace to quicken. The trio had emerged from the stretch of forest to the wreckage that was the main street of Hawkins, Indiana. It looked the same as Tyler had left it, succumbed to the grasping arms of the vines and ooze that perforated the Upside-Down.

He pointed his flashlight at the grimy storefronts, reminded how eerie they'd seemed without the artificial light, even with Will by his side. Now, they were shadows and dust in the face of what really mattered; escaping this horrid place, once and for all.

"This way," he called to the two adults, turning down a corner past a broken streetlight that bent like a broken limb, over a faint outline of what used to be a crosswalk. A ethereal growl echoed through the darkened air, but it was unlike the guttural screeching the penta-faced monster preferred, so it barely fazed him. Ironic that he could barely read a map, but in the supernatural world haunted by a ferocious monster? Not a problem.

They continued down the street, following the trail of blood like a gory road pointing them in the right direction. Tyler could feel that they were close, was so sure of it that he almost broke out into a run.

But, just as quickly as the adrenaline-fueled feeling came to him, the splatters veered off to the left, turning his gaze to follow them right up to the Hawkins Public library, towering columns lining the looming front entrance.

Joyce muttered a breathless, "Oh my God", knowing just as well as the other two that this was where Will was being kept. They were on the verge of rescuing him, about to put an end to what felt like an eternity of suffering.

"This is it," Tyler muttered, almost to himself. "Here."

The two adults exchanged glances, Hopper's brow furrowed. Joyce had calmed down as they'd left the woods, but the memory of her screams still played in his mind. Wordlessly, the police chief's inquiring face told Joyce his concerns. She gritted her teeth and forged ahead, determination set in her face.

Tyler hurried after her, his flashlight shaking in his hand as he went. He felt energy rushing through his body, so sure that this was the place that Will was that he could practically see the boy in front of him. He had promised that he would find him, and he did. He'd kept it.

The building seemed to lean over him challengingly as he made his way up the sloping steps lined with tendrils and right to the rotting doors. His hand felt alien and heavy, hidden away in the suit's gloves as he reached for the tarnished metal handles. Unsurprisingly, they didn't budge.

"Move," Hopper ordered, the command stern yet laced with nervousness as he shoved his flashlight into Tyler's arms. The boy watched with wide eyes as the chief took a step back, then rammed his shoulder into the doors. They creaked, already worn down from the vines that were slowly crushing them, and it only took a few more hits for them to splinter in the middle. But before Hopper could get another hit in, Joyce stomped forward and kicked them hard, knocking the left door open with a wide arc that was stopped only by the masses of tendrils lining the library wall.

Tyler gaped at them, yet barely had the time to absorb anything as they filed in through the entrance. He hurried after them, nudging splinters of wood aside with his boots, juggling both flashlights in his hands, circles of light shaking and bouncing off the ceiling, swallowed by the unforgiving darkness.