PSYCHO 《 stranger things 》

-2.8 angry athletes are dumb as hell

chapter twenty-eight!

{trigger warning: description of self harm scars. please reach out if you need anything at all. I love you all so much}

CASSIE HAD ALREADY BEGAN TO REGRET coming to Hawkins. She hated her house, and she loved her friends, yes, but she didn't sign up to be some sort of weirdo who can see stuff that she didn't even know had happened yet. If the girls death was real, what else about that place was too? Was the weird man? The visions of her friends all dead? It was too much to even think about.

After leaving the bathroom, Max had pulled Cassie into her room and slammed the door behind her. Cassie sat down in Max's chair, slouching with her head in her hands. Max looked just as distraught, and Cassie wondered if Max had known the girl. "Who was that?"

"Chrissy Cunningham," replied Max, quietly. The name sounded like a punch to the gut, Cassie remembering seeing the name on the jacket but not being able to make it out clearly. Cassie stayed quiet, seeing that Max wasn't quite finished. "The most popular girl in school. I don't even know why she was at Eddie Munson's trailer, that alone is weird as hell."

"Eddie Munson?" Cassie's eyes went wide, sitting up in her seat. Max gave her a confused look, urging her to continue. "I know that dude. He sold me weed last year. No way he fuckin' murdered someone."

"Of course you know Eddie Munson," smiled Max, weakly. The redhead pulled her hair out of it's low bun and tied it back into a low ponytail. "We're going to have to tell the party. They do Hellfire with him."

Cassie slapped her forehead, returning to her slouching position. Frankie and Mike had left on their flight for California, so that crossed them off. Lucas was out having fun with the basketball team who knows where, and she knew that Max and him were in a difficult spot, leaving the only available person who's location was known to be Dustin. Cassie groaned at the simple thought. Max seemed to be thinking the same thing, and looked up at Cassie with apologetic eyes.

"How about, you go see Dustin and I go find Lucas?" asked Cassie, hopefully. After their encounter the night prior, and the events that had occurred since, Dustin was the last person that Cassie wanted to see. Max stood up, tossing Cassie's duffel at the girl with a shake of her head.

"No, Lucas could be literally anywhere," denied Max, and reasonably so. "You'd likely be spending most of the day wasting gas looking for him. So suck it up and get ready."

Cassie held her bag close to her chest, her face buried in the top part as she let out a whine. She knew Max was correct, despite her stubbornness refusing to allow her to admit it. She never thought she'd be picking out an outfit to go discuss a murder with her ex-boyfriend, but here she was. Max pulled her out of the chair, pushing her towards the hallway and shutting the door behind her.

Cassie rolled her eyes in defeat, making her way back into the bathroom with her bag. After taking a quick shower, Cassie pulled on her loose jeans and sports bra, waiting until she did her hair to put her shirt on. Cassie found it easier then letting the long wet strands get her shirt wet too. The blonde was in the process of brushing through the tangles when her eyes got caught on the scar above her belly button. The knife wound, from long ago, that left her with stitches and a scar that would last a lifetime. She ran her finger over the rough patch of skin, it burning under her touch. There were others, smaller, from her times of attempting to take her own life. Her hands travelled to the side of her torso, over the more recent cuts, bruises, burns and scars. The ones from her father, the ones from Billy, and the ones from her time fighting monsters or Russians in Hawkins. None of these had she directly done to herself, although some that she figured in a way she did cause. Each held a story, some more tragic than others, and all more tragic than anything one could think.