Billy Hargrove might rule the corridors of Hawkins High as the bully. Yet, behind closed doors at home, he's the victim, tormented by his own father. His mother abandoned him, so he has no defender against his abuser.
But at school, Steve Harrington...
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Now and then, Henry Creel's voice intrudes Max's consciousness, taunting her with malicious whispers about Billy not loving her. But even now, when he's not speaking, Henry's words still ooze into her memory like venom.
A darker recollection unfurls within her, how she got here in the first place. Max revisits the fateful day that brought her to the Upside-Down.
The sky above the Hawkins woods is a steely grey that mirrors Max's mood. Twigs crunch underfoot, and every so often a gust of wind rushes through the trees, as if carrying whispers of secrets yet to be uncovered.
Dustin, laden with his trusty backpack filled with walkie-talkies, flashlights, and a myriad of snacks, walks alongside her. Lucas is there too, wearing his bandana and a slingshot dangling from his back pocket.
All three are sombre, their usual banter subdued. Max's mother has been missing for two weeks, and her absence hangs over them like a dark cloud.
'I still can't believe she's gone,' Dustin says, breaking the silence as he adjusts his cap. 'She'll turn up.'
'Yeah, we've been through a lot, Max. We've faced Demogorgons and Mind Flayers,' Lucas encourages her. 'We'll find your mum.'
'I just have a bad feeling, you know?' Max contemplates. 'Like she's in real trouble.'
'Did you ever talk to her about, you know, the weird stuff? The Upside-Down and all that?' Dustin asks, fidgeting with the straps of his backpack.
Max hesitates. 'No, not really. Mum had enough to worry about, especially with my stepdad and Billy. I didn't want to add to it.'
Dustin exhales. 'Fair point. Parents have their own set of monsters to deal with.'
'Monsters, you say?' Lucas sounds amused. 'As in, the kind that hide under your bed or the kind that schedule parent-teacher meetings?'
'Definitely the latter.' Max manages a weak smile. 'The ones under the bed you can deal with. A wooden bat and some nails and you're golden. But try taking a spiked bat to a PTA meeting.'
