"you can only push someone so far before they break."
.
in which billy hargrove's twin sister tries to cope with the aftermath of his death, whilst simultaneously being sucked into the world of demogorgons, vecna and the upside-down
or in which caro...
"The most important things are the hardest to say, because words diminish them."
- STEPHEN KING
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"So, what's the last thing you remember?"
Carolyn was trying her utmost best to concentrate on the question, but she couldn't help but be painfully aware of how her clothes felt on her skin. Or how the chair she was sitting on would creak if she shook her leg. Or the newest dirt stains on her canvas sneakers. Or the healed scrapes on her hands. Or the-
"Carolyn?"
"Sorry, what was the question?"
Ms. Kelly sighed, realizing they had barely made any progress in the past half hour. "What's the last thing you remember? From that night in the mall?"
Carolyn shifted in her seat, biting the inside of her cheek. Her nails were digging into the sleeves of her jacket. She knew exactly what Ms. Kelly wanted to hear - something logical, something rational, something she could write down to feel like the session hadn't been wasted. Something that wouldn't make Carolyn sound insane.
But the memories weren't like that. They were jagged, harsh, and raw. They flashed in and out of her mind like pieces of a broken film reel. The one thing that stood out the most in each picture was Billy's eyes. The cold, empty stare that pierced right through her. The unnatural crack of his voice when he spoke her name.
"Um... it's hard to explain," Carolyn muttered, she picked at the skin of her thumb. "I remember the fire. Everyone running... but-"
"But?" Ms. Kelly prompted, her expression extremely professional, yet kind.
Carolyn dropped her gaze to her hand, rubbing at the faded scrapes on her knuckles. She could feel her throat tightening, the words felt stuck. How do you tell someone that your brother wasn't killed by a fire but by a monster made of tangible meat and bone and darkness?
"I don't think anyone will believe me," Carolyn whispered. She could already see the newspaper headlines: "Sister of Late Hargrove Boy, Lost Her Mind as a Result of Grieving Her Dead Brother."
Ms. Kelly tilted her head, waiting patiently, "Why don't you let me decide that?"
Carolyn felt a bitter laugh bubble up, but she swallowed it down. "I know what you're going to say," she hesitated, her people-pleasing tendencies almost stopping her from continuing, "You'll just say that it's trauma and I'm filling in the blanks with made-up stuff because I can't handle what really happened."
Carolyn didn't want to admit that deep down she believed this to be the case as well.
Ms. Kelly rested her elbows on her desk. "Let's start small, yeah?" she suggested. "Close your eyes and tell me whatever comes to mind when you think about that night. No judgment, I promise."
