LIVE FAST | REDDIE

- 12 | LIVE FAST

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"I think I figured out why she was so upset you were gone," Stan told Eddie over the phone. It was Sunday, and Eddie had spent the end of his week, including Friday, locked in his room. He hadn't answered to anybody, not that anyone had called. His mother had sat outside his door screaming for another hour and a half before she got tired of it and went to bed, but Eddie hadn't listened. He was fed up, and exhausted, and he felt delicate, which was one of the worst feelings he had ever felt.

All he could think about was his father. All he could do was replay the scene in his head over and over, pretending he had taken the car instead of riding his bike. Pretending he had just chosen a random song and left. Sometimes he'd even pretend he hadn't gone at all. But every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was the flashing lights, all he could hear was the sound of sirens wailing, and all he could feel was the familiar pressure building up behind his eyes and the heat in his chest as his throat started to form lumps, closing up and making it hard to breathe as unwanted tears poured from his eyes.

"Why?" He asked Stan quietly. He had grown tired of wallowing in his own sorrows ever since it became physically impossible to cry anymore. He hadn't eaten or drank anything, and it was beginning to come back and bite him in the ass. Pain cramped at his stomach constantly, and his head throbbed at all times. He didn't want to sleep in fear of what he would dream, so he stayed awake until he was so tired that he couldn't think straight enough to dream anyway.

"Well, a kid in your town was reported dead after a party just like that one just a few months ago. Your mom always was super possessive about you and where you were going, and even if she locks herself up nowadays she can't want you to go missing. You're all she's got left." Stan's voice was soft, gentle, but Eddie wanted none of the shit about his mother.

"Where did they find him?" Eddie asked softly. "The kid?" Stan was silent for a moment, but Eddie heard the rustling of papers.

"Well, it's all over the news. In the paper even here, on the radio, on the television. He was 13, found in an empty lot. It looks like an overdose, but the police ended up treating it as suspicious due to reasons they, quote, 'aren't at liberty to discuss,' end quote." Eddie nodded, even though Stan couldn't hear him, but the location had his heart pounding. Surely it wasn't the same empty lot as the one he had been in.

"Do you know where the lot was, Stan?" He asked weakly, biting his lip and swallowing back his fear. Another soft rustling of the paper, indicating that Stan was looking through the pages.

"Looks like an empty drive-in lot just off of Crescent Place... Wait, isn't that the street you moved into?" Stan's voice had taken on a new sense of concern, but Eddie was hardly listening. His breaths started to come a bit more shallow, and he closed his eyes, trying to steady himself. His hands trembled as he held the receiver up to his ear and tried to force out his final question.

"And what was his name?" He finally asked softly.

"Georgie Denbrough. Does that mean anything to you?" His generally curious and casual tone went right over Eddie's head as he nearly fell off of his bed, all color draining from his face. Eddie clutched at the side of his head with his free hand, eyes wide and unseeing. "Eddie? Are you there?" Stan's voice drifted from the receiver that was slipping from between Eddie's fingertips and crashing to the ground. The noise startled him back into reality, and he snatched it back up, struggling with himself.