𝗨𝗚𝗟𝗬 // 𝗦𝘁𝗲𝘃𝗲 𝗛𝗮𝗿𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘁𝗼𝗻

063

Unlike before, there's no sirens, or cars, no officers scanning the area before eventually giving up and leaving the police tape up, in fact all of the tape is gone now.

Had they stopped hunting Eddie?
Was his name finally cleared?

Steve coughs, breaking the silence as we sit outside Eddie's house, and then I notice the large hole in the side of it, as if half of the trailer had fallen off.

"It was damaged when the gates opened." Steve notices me staring, but as I absorb his words I become more fixated on my friend, "so where's Eddie gonna live?"

In life there a moments where you can feel something's wrong. That familiar tightening in your chest, the twisting moths in your stomach.

He stares at me as if he doesn't know what to say, there's a script in his head but now that the camera is on and I'm shouting action, he has stage fright. Just like before, with Max.

When he doesn't answer, my words become more begging, more urgent, repeating myself, "where's Eddie gonna live, Steve?"

I face forward in the passenger seat, trying to compose myself as I rant, "we're here to collect Eddie so we can all go to Nancys house, that's what's happening. That's what's going to happen."

I snap, barely letting the words settle in the air,  "Steve why aren't you saying anything?!"

Instead of replying, he digs a hand into his jean pocket, dangling a necklace through his fingers, a guitar pick as red as blood hanging at the end of the chain.

"Dustin.. he said Eddie would've wanted you to have this."

There's conflict in his eyes, but he hands it over to me anyways and as the object touches my hands, I shiver, as if a ghost is passing me.

"I don't understand..."

I think of the plan, how we'd shoved into the trailer and written it out on whatever scrappy piece of paper we could find, how Eddie was very eager to help, but terrified of being on the frontlines.

"He was nowhere near the battle.. how could this have-" and then it dawns on me, another set of memories hits, once again, the images Vecna showed me were real, Eddie cycling away from the trailer, leading the bats elsewhere.

He sacrificed his life for us.
For me.

What am I supposed to do with that?

"The bats.." I mumble, mostly to myself, but Steve's eyes narrow, "how did you-"

The action of burying my face into my hands stops him, the warmth of my palms rising throughout my cheeks, the only heat, other than Steve's touch, that I've felt today.

"Why are we here? Steve?"

He's tapping the wheel, staring at where Eddie once lived, "the trailers being torn down tomorrow," I snap my head upwards, "I thought you'd want to say goodbye first."

And so I open the car door, barely thinking as I stumble out, gesturing for Steve but he stays put, giving me time alone to grieve for the second time today.

There's a tough breeze that hits me every now and then as I crush beer cans beneath my shoes and walk past piles of dirty plates as I head towards his bedroom.

Half of the room is still there, but where messy clothes, guitar pics and porno magazines once lay is now an empty space leading outside to a long metal plate covered path, clearly nailed down by the government.

His mattress is ripped on the ground, the same mattress we all fell on for security, the same mattress in which he used to rest and hope for a better, new day.