Ptolemaea | Henry Creel

Cigarettes and Robbery

Hi guys! I'm so sorry for the late ass update. A lot of things have been going on in my personal life and I couldn't find time to write.

This one has henry and sixteen in it tho, so I hope you enjoy! Sorry again for the wait!

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I sat on the steps outside Eddie's trailer.

A few feet away was a small, metallic trash can. I could hear flies buzzing around inside it, feasting on food that had been left to rot after that girl's death. It didn't bother me much. Behind me, I could hear the others talking inside. Their voices sounded much like the buzzing of the flies, frenzied and incessant. There was probably a metaphor to be found there, but I didn't care to search for it.

I liked the burn of cigarette smoke entering my lungs. I liked how rotten it felt to breathe out, to let it free. I tapped the ashes against the metal railing and watched them scatter in the lazy wind. Its cool fingers combed through my hair, carrying it across my face. I didn't bother to pin it back.

I considered leaving.

Ahead of me was a red pickup truck parked in someone else's driveway. The trailer park had been almost entirely abandoned. Most didn't want to live near a murder sight. Most didn't know how lucky they were to have to option to simply pack a bag and leave.

It wouldn't take much effort to steal that car. My headache had lessened a little, and my abilities had surely gotten some time to replenish themselves.

The heel of my shoe tapped against the steps. I listened to their dull thud, over and over, heart thudding in tandem.

It would be cowardly to leave now. I knew that, but I didn't quite mind the idea of being a coward. Cowards made it out alive, cowards didn't pretend to be something they weren't.

I toyed with the idea.

Of course, there was an alternative to leaving. I could stay and watch them all die. I wonder who Henry would kill first? Probably Max or Nancy. The others would most definitely follow. Or maybe, by some miracle, Henry would be the one to go. And I'd be complicit, and I'd regret it for the rest of my life. History had a funny way of repeating itself. One way or the other, I'd lose. No matter what I did, someone was being betrayed.

I hated myself for ending up in this position all over again. Everything I touched, I seemed to scorch. Maybe it was the other way around.

Now I could stay here, burning, or I could finish the cigarette clasped in my hands and get into that car. I'd be gone before anyone even noticed, and then the only penance I'd need to pay would be a prayer to an empty sky.

That was the safest option.

Nancy told me what Vecna had shown her. Visions of gates cutting through downtown, fire curling into the sky. He'd used Eleven in the lab, tricked her into some semblance of allyship when she was most vulnerable. It seemed even a nine-year-old wasn't out of his line of fire-- he manipulated her, too. I wondered which one of us was plan A.

I rose from my feet and glanced behind me, as though I expected someone to be staring through the window, reading my thoughts and knowing what I planned to do. But there wasn't anyone. The curtains were still drawn. The flies still buzzed.

I took a deep, steady drag from my cigarette. I held my breath, the smoke curling around in my lungs, and let it sit there as I crossed the street. Every few steps I turned, expecting-- perhaps even hoping-- to find someone standing on the front porch, prepared to call me back. No one was there.

One of Eddie's shirts had replaced my blood-stained one. I felt cleaner, now, than I had for a few days. I tried not to think about the people behind me, who had trusted me enough to let me stay, to share the clothes that once draped across their backs.