The night air is still, but it presses heavy on their lungs.
No one moves at first— not Steve, not Robin, not Dustin, not Eddie.
The only sound is the faint crackle of the burned lawn and the shallow rasp of Eddie's breaths.
Angie's body lies cradled in Steve's arms, her blood drying against his shirt, her hair still tangled with dirt and ash.
It doesn't feel real.
Robin crouches down beside him, her hand hovering, unsure whether to touch Angie's arm or Steve's shoulder.
She pulls back before either.
Her voice breaks.
"She... she always carried us. And now..."
Her words fail, shattering into silence.
Steve lowers his forehead to Angie's, whispering something no one else can hear.
When he finally pulls back, his eyes are red, his jaw clenched tight, as though holding back another flood.
Eddie sways where he stands, his hands trembling at his sides.
"She's— she's my little sister," he mutters, his voice cracked and far away, "And I couldn't... I couldn't keep her safe."
Dustin, cheeks streaked with tears, forces himself to move.
He presses closer, grabbing Eddie's arm with more strength than anyone thought he had left.
"She saved you. That's what she wanted. She didn't... she didn't lose, Eddie. She chose."
The words cut deeper than Eddie can stand.
His knees buckle, and the three of them steady him as best they can, even as their own grief tears at their ribs.
They can't stay.
Not here.
Not on enemy ground.
The four of them move together through the trees, Steve carrying Angie as gently as if she were only sleeping.
The quiet stretches out between them, broken only by the drag of feet on dirt and the rustle of branches overhead.
Hawkins looms ahead, dark and waiting, but it feels changed— emptier somehow, as though the whole town already knows what it has lost.
When they reach the shelter of the woods behind the trailer park, Robin stops.
"She deserves better than this," she says, "But... it's all we can give her. So, let's make the best of it."
They set Angie down beneath a tall oak, its branches twisting upward like reaching arms.
The smell of earth is thick in the night air, damp and raw.
None of them speak as they scrape at the dirt with their hands and whatever scraps of wood they can find.
Their nails crack, their knuckles bleed, and their palms blister, but no one complains.
It isn't deep, it isn't perfect, but it is all they have.
One by one, they leave a piece of themselves with her.
Robin pulls something from her pocket— a scrap of notebook paper covered in doodles Angie once teased her about.
She folds it small and tucks it into Angie's jacket, her fingers lingering there as though she could anchor the memory.
Eddie takes the pick from his necklace and presses it into her palm.
YOU ARE READING
Angelica "Freak Two" Munson
Fanfiction"Hey, Harrington!" she reverses against her heel, flipping him the bird, "The names Freak Two, actually. If you're gonna insult me, you might as well do it right." ---------- Angelica Beatrice Munson, aka "Freak Two" is Eddie Munson's younger sister...
