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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐖𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋'𝐒 𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐁𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐈𝐓 𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐙𝐀𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐇 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐊. It was a blow so hard that it seemed to knock the breath right out of her lungs. The normally quiet front yard was alive with chaos—flashing red and blue lights from police cars illuminated the night, casting eerie shadows on the faces of the gathered officers. Elizabeth felt like she was in a nightmare, her limbs heavy and unresponsive.
Joyce, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and determination, was frantically recounting their experience to the officers. "It came out of the wall," she kept repeating, her voice rising with hysteria. Elizabeth stood a few feet away, feeling like she was trapped in a glass bubble. She could see and hear everything, but none of it seemed real. Whenever her name was mentioned, she could only manage a weak nod, her mind too overwhelmed to form coherent thoughts.
Inside the house, the atmosphere was suffocating. The once warm and welcoming living room now felt cold and alien. Elizabeth sank onto the old, worn couch, the springs creaking under her weight. She put her head in her hands, squeezing it tightly in a futile attempt to alleviate the pounding headache that had been building since she first heard the news.
Her baby brother was dead. The words echoed in her mind, each repetition more painful than the last. There wasn't any hope left. He would never come home again. She would never hear his laugh or see his smile. She would never sing and play music for him again.
She stared at her feet, her vision blurred by the tears that welled up in her eyes. Slowly, they began to spill over, each drop splashing onto the hardwood floor next to her black Converse. The sight of those tiny, glistening puddles somehow made the pain feel even more real.
Elizabeth straightened up, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand. Across the room, Hopper and Joyce were deep in conversation, their faces tense with worry and determination. Jonathan stood behind them, his posture rigid, his expression a mask of barely contained grief and anger.
"Elizabeth!" Joyce's voice cut through the haze, startling her. Elizabeth flinched, realizing from the concerned faces around her that this wasn't the first time they had tried to get her attention.
"Tell Hopper what we saw. Tell him it's real," Joyce insisted, her eyes pleading. Elizabeth considered it, her mind racing. She opened her mouth, but no words came out. It was as if her voice had abandoned her. Panic surged within her, and her chest tightened, making it hard to breathe. She stumbled to her feet and rushed out the front door, desperate for air.
Outside, the cool night air hit her like a wave. She leaned against the porch railing, taking several deep breaths, trying to calm the storm inside her.
