𝐶𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 || 𝑀𝑎𝑥 𝑀𝑎𝑦𝑓𝑖𝑒𝑙𝑑

𝟮𝟰. 𝗗𝗲𝗮𝗿 𝗕𝗶𝗹𝗹𝘆, 𝗣𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝘁𝘄𝗼.

Chapter 24~ Dear Billy, part two.

Max had been sat by Billy's grave for twenty minutes now.

Ziggy was leaning on the hood of Steve's car, arms crossed, staring out at nothing, her foot tapped restlessly against the bumper.

The cemetery stretched out ahead of them, quiet and still, but the tension in the air was sharp.

Lucas broke the silence first, "okay...are we gonna talk about what happened or...?"

"Don't." Ziggy said, sharply.

Dustin raised an eyebrow, "just wondering, like- should we be worried? You two looked like you were gonna start throwing hands."

"I said don't." She snapped, louder this time.

"Jesus, take the hint." Steve cut in. "Sorry." Lucas and Dustin muttered.

Steve just sighed and looked down at his watch, "alright," he muttered, "it's been long enough."

"Steve, just give her some time," Lucas said.

"I have, alright, Sinclair?" Steve snapped, already standing. "I'm calling it. If she wants to get a lawyer, she can." He started walking towards her.

Ziggy let out a low, annoyed scoff, then pushed off the car and followed him. The sky had gone dull, clouds heavier than before.

As they walked, Ziggy looked up at the sky, "was it supposed to rain today?"

Steve didn't look back, "I don't know- who cares?"

"Okay then." Ziggy said under her breath.

They reached the part the cemetery, where Max sat in front of Billy's grave. "Max." Steve called out, his tone lighter than before, "time to giddy up, yeah?"

Max didn't respond right away.

"Max?" Steve said again.

"I just need a minute." She finally spoke.

Ziggy slowed behind Steve, something twisting in her gut, the clouds above them looked...wrong- thick and too low, like they were pressing down.

"Ziggy."

She froze.

The voice was quiet, distorted. Not Steve's. Not Max's. Not Dustin's. Not Lucas's.

It came from somewhere else.

Her breath caught as she turned in a slow circle.

The wind then picked up.

Her chest tightened, "Steve?" She called out, suddenly the air grew cold and she couldn't see Steve or Max.

Her breath started to hitch, panic was setting in, she
looked up to see the clouds had turned pitch black.

Everything around her was dark.

"Ziggy, I've been waiting to see you here." The same distorted voice sounded closer. Twisted. Familiar in the worst way.

Ziggy turned, and there he was.

Her dad.

He stood ten feet away, his face was pale and gaunt. Blood dripped down his temple, soaked through the collar of his shirt, splattered across his chest.

He stepped forward slowly, barefoot, the sound of his steps echoing.

Ziggy couldn't move. Her throat tightened. Her feet felt glued to the earth.

"You're not real." She whispered, "you're not him."

"You know," he said, his voice almost calm, "I used to think I was the broken one." He stepped closer, "you were always...off, even as a kid." His tone sharpened. "There was something wrong, and we all saw it, but no one wanted to say it out loud."