Worlds Turned Upside Down: Will Byers x Reader

Chapter Six: Ring Ring

It's quiet in the (L/N) household. Mrs. (L/N) sits at the kitchen table. A glass of wine is to her left, just out of reach. In front of her is a mess of photographs. These photos are filled with the face of her daughter. (Y/N)'s smile is evident in nearly all of the pictures, most of which were forced by her parents while she stared into the camera's lense. There are pictures from all throughout her childhood. The ones from when she was a baby until she was around nine-years-old are off in their own separate pile. Her mother cannot use these ones on the missing poster. (Y/N) no longer looks so little.
Mrs. (L/N)'s eyes are red and irritated. She's been crying. These pictures have not only triggered the fact that these may be the only captured memories of her daughter, but also that (Y/N) really has grown before her eyes. She has changed a lot. But, has she really had the best quality of life? She had always been a timid girl. Even as a toddler, (Y/N) had hidden behind her mother's legs when a stranger approached. Mrs. (L/N) brushed behavior like this off. She sits here, contemplating what she could have done differently.
She should have been there more for (Y/N). Usually she tuned her out when (Y/N) worried about things that seemed simple, like presenting a project or riding home by herself. Maybe the small things really were nerve-wracking for her daughter. She has been a bit more reserved over the last few years. Maybe I should have been more accepting. More attentive. More present. These thoughts randomly appear and lead to realizations which in turn, lead to regrets. Why did I tell her she shouldn't only be hanging around boys? Why did I make comments on the way her hair or outfit looked? Why did I let her watch my marriage become more and more disconnected?
A poster is to the right of (Y/N)'s mother. There is neat, black writing on the crisp, white paper. "Missing" is printed on the top of the poster. Details of (Y/N)'s appearance are recorded under a blank space on the paper, which is where the chosen picture will be placed. There is a description of where (Y/N) was last, where her bike had been found.
Mrs. (L/N) is having a difficult time choosing the right photo, her thoughts are getting in the way. Her brain is filled with so many memories, however, they don't make her smile. They've been tainted by the fear of her daughter never returning home.
Her husband isn't home. He works late for a big, classy company. He isn't the head of the operation, but he is in charge of a small branch. Mrs. (L/N) works from home. She started a small sewing business, there isn't much income but the job keeps her occupied. Her husband doesn't think it's necessary for her to take on a job in the real world. He wants her in his pocket and she lets him keep her there.
After aimlessly shifting through multiple photographs Mrs. (L/N)'s hand lands on (Y/N)'s school picture. It was taken earlier in the school year. This picture is perfect. It should have crossed her mind sooner, however, her judgment has been clouded by her toxic thoughts. In the picture, (Y/N) has a black headband on, holding her hair back from her face.
That morning, her mother brushed and curled her hair. (Y/N), at the time, didn't care much for how her hair was styled, like the older girls, but that morning her mother had to have things perfect. Putting on the facade of a perfect girl with a perfect family.
Right before they left the house, Mrs. (L/N) took out a new, shiny, black headband and carefully slid it onto (Y/N)'s head. In the picture, the girl wore a shy smile, no teeth. Her mother had scolded her for this. Now looking at this picture, she wonders why she was even upset. It is her daughter, that's all that matters. She is beautiful.
Mrs. (L/N) takes the picture and places it onto the poster. The reality of this situation sinks in even more than before. Her daughter's face on a missing flier. Missing. (Y/N) is missing and unbeknownst to her, it could be partly another member of her household's fault.

♥︎

The shed's door comes open with a bang. Will and (Y/N) burst out and sprint as fast as they can. The ground almost gives way for both of the children. The slime makes it extremely difficult to walk, so running is something that has to be done with utter caution. The trick is to lean slightly forward and turn the tips of your feet somewhat outward. If the kids don't do this, their feet will come out from under them which could be the cause of their demises.
The children go straight for "Will's" house's back door. The sound that's emit from the childrens' shoes hitting the muculent ground reaches the Demogorgan.
The large monster snaps it's enormous head towards the two children. They don't stop running. The Demogorgan takes off. It's large feet slide on the slimy surface but it soon regains balance, it is used to the texture of the surroundings.
(Y/N) and Will get to the few stairs that reach the door. They climb the stairs. The clomping sound the two make as their feet pound against the wooden surface seems just as loud as their heartbeat sounds in their heads.
Will forces the door open so hard that it bounces back off the wall and nearly swings shut again. Will pushes the door again and makes it inside. (Y/N) stumbles inside after him.
The children whip their heads around rapidly, looking for anything. Anything to help buy them time. (Y/N) and Will's eyes both land on the same object. A table which resembles that of Will's. It is out of place but in this moment, just where they need it. The two run over to it, each on an opposite end. The table isn't as heavy as the original due to the rotten wood. It is soft to the touch.
Will and (Y/N) heave the table towards the door. The monster can be heard slowly maneuvering it's way to the house as if it is hunting its prey. Two prey to be exact.
(Y/N) and Will have to shift the table a certain way to fit it through the first doorway which leads to a small foyer. They place the table against the door vertically, it's too long to fit horizontally. Will moves away from his end of the table and (Y/N) gives one last shove that lodges the table tightly against the door. Then they run. (Y/N) follows Will, he knows what he wants to do.
Will heads towards the phone. When the two kids reach it, they notice that the phone does not look operational. However, Will tries to use it anyway. He picks it up and starts to dial. The numbers he punches in belongs to his own phone, back at home.
The sound of a defected dial tone comes out of the phone. It doesn't sound for long though. Someone picks up the phone.
"Hello?" A voice echoes through the phone. Wait, no. It isn't just coming from the phone. This voice is echoing throughout the whole house. As if the person is in that very room, but at the same time, extremely far away.
The children are panting. They've been panting this whole time. Their lungs are tired and yearn for air. However, it's hard to breathe when the atmosphere is so thick. The air is still filled with the white specks, even though they're inside. The dust must have slipped in through the cracks. It's difficult to breathe in heavily without getting one of those specks stuck up your nose.
"Hello?" The voice is more impatient, "Lonnie?" Will and (Y/N)'s eyes widen. This isn't just any voice. This voice belongs to Joyce Byers. "Hopper?" She's asking who the caller may be. The children can't answer, their voices are caught in their throats.
Rattle! A sound radiates from the door. The monster must know where they are. Will and (Y/N)'s panting becomes more like gasps. The sound has knocked the breath straight out of them. "Who is this?" Joyce asks, panic has seeped into her voice. Gasps turn into small cries. Will holds onto the phone with all his might. His face twists into a heartbreakingly, distressed sight. His eyes are drooping downwards, squinting to see through the tears. He wants nothing more than to be out of this place with his mother, who'll keep him safe and tell him, "everything is okay."
Crack! The Demogorgan slams it's ginormous body against the door again. The table cracks from the pressure. The wood can be heard splintering.
"Will?" Joyce realizes that the gasping cries of her son are on the other side of the phone. Will shifts his weight from foot to foot. Frustrated that he can't be there with his mother. Frustrated that he is in this situation.
Bang! The door slams open. The table is now cracked and split in multiple pieces. (Y/N) lets out a mumbled squeak and tugs at Will's sleeve. They need to run. Will stays in place, listening to his mother's disarrayed voice on the other end of the phone. A strange grumbling can be heard coming from the monster. Or is it some otherworldly roar? (Y/N) gives a harder tug on Will's arm and he looks towards her with realization. The same realization that the children keep having over and over that night. That they may not make it out of this alive.
Will grabs hold of (Y/N)'s wrist. The two run towards the front door of the house. Joyce's voice is echoing through the house, she is screaming out for Will, who lets out a choked sob. He hates to hear his mother like this.
The children reach the door. Will gives a tug at the knob. The door is stuck.
The Demogorgan can be heard pounding its way through the house. The monstrous crackle is still sounding off. Will is pushing and pulling rapidly, as hard as he can. He lets out a few laboured breaths.
(Y/N) joins him. The door seems to be rusted shut. It will not budge. The growl reaches the doorway just outside the room the children currently are in. (Y/N) stops pulling at the door. She knows that this route isn't going to work. Instead she picks up an old lamp. Will carries on working at the door, so panicked he doesn't realize the girl has left his side.
(Y/N) turns the lamp's bottom towards the large window. The lampshade is covered in dirt and slime. She positions her arm with the lamp behind her head. And with all her might, (Y/N) thrusts the lamp into the window.
Glass flies everywhere. The sound startles Will and he stops rattling the doorknob. The monster has come rushing into the room. It's a hideous sight. It's height is absolutely immense. Pick on someone your own size, passes through (Y/N)'s brain. It's teeth are bared, all one thousand of them.
(Y/N) almost loses track of the goal at hand. She uses the lamp's end to clear some shards of glass away from where the children will escape.
Will rushes towards her and pushes her towards the window. It's now or never. Before heaving herself out of the window, (Y/N) pitches the lamp towards the monster. Well, she tried to aim for the monster. The lamp hit the floor and rolled. She had never really been good at many sports.
Although the lamp missed the monster, it did create enough of a diversion for it to turn the other way. (Y/N) hops from the window onto the cold ground, getting a few shards of glass lodged into her soft flesh while doing so. Will is right behind her and they run off in the direction of the surrounding woods. The Demogorgan smashes through the rest of the window and looks around into the dark forest. It gets on all fours as if it is a dog and moves it's head up into the air, sniffing it. Then, it heads back toward a different clearing in the woods. It must have found another prey.

♥︎

In other news, back in Hawkins, a certain group of three friends had just discovered a mysterious girl lurking in the woods. That very girl would help these boys with a discovery that could save the lives of the two children fleeing into the woods.

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Thank.You.All.So.Much! I am loving all the support on my writing so far. I would like to say here something that I will repeat a few times, there may be some sensitive content discussed in this story. Don't worry nothing super graphic! The worst there may be is talk about abuse and wounds that may appear on the characters. If you are sensitive to these things please read with caution. I will be as sensitive as possible when I write about serious subjects♥︎ If you celebrate it, have a Happy Thanksgiving and eat lots! If you don't, have a great week! ~WoodCeiling♡

*THE CHARACTERS, THEME, AND SOME DIALOGUE BELONG TO STRANGER THINGS AND THE DUFFER BROTHERS*