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Mar. 29th, 2025 04:42 pmHe's been here too long.
Eddie doesn't know how long, if it's been days or as long as a week, he just knows it's been too long. His face is streaked with ash, his hair dirty and tangled, and there's blood on the t-shirt he'd been wearing to work the day he'd ended up here. His blood maybe. Or the blood of those weird little children that had attacked him at some point.
That's how he'd ended up with the knife in his hand. He'd taken it from one of them, stabbed them back, stabbed them over and over, chopping at their grabbing hands. Their blood is on his shirt and his hands and he hasn't slept in way too long, but he's afraid to let himself rest in this place. All he wants is to get back to Darrow, back to his familiar bedroom and his friends and his band and his job.
He's tucked into a small corner in what he thinks is some fucked up version of Petros High. Eventually he'll have to move. He keeps hearing things shifting out there in the dark, skittering on a thousand legs like a bug, but bigger. Too big.
Big enough to hurt, he knows.
It's just that he's terrified. Broken. Something inside him is unravelling, because when he was in the Upside Down, at least he was never alone, and now he's by himself. He's found and lost people, seeing them just ahead before they disappear into the ash. Right now, he thinks it's likely he'll die down here, die again, and no one will ever know what happened to him.
Hawkins can go on thinking he's some kind of devil worshipper, he doesn't care, but he wants Darrow to think better of him. He wants people to know he didn't just leave.
The skittering gets closer and Eddie forces himself to move. He leads with the knife, the blade trembling in his hand, then hurries to the door of the office he's hidden himself inside. Behind him in the dark, the bugs get closer and he throws open the door, then rushes down the hall toward the exit.
Outside, the ash keeps falling. It never lets up.
Eddie inhales too deeply, breathes some in, and starts to cough. It's too loud, he's drawing too much attention to himself and he tries to step back into the school, but something has closed the door behind him and locked him out. Something else screams overhead and Eddie goes still, frozen in terror, as a shape materializes from the sky. It's not a bird. Not a bat, and not one of the awful bats that had followed him to Darrow. It's bigger than that, razor sharp talons on the ends of its feet, and they're coming right for Eddie.
At the last second, he thinks to raise the knife, but he just barely nicks the thing. It screams again, awful and loud, and dives for him, talons ripping at his upraised arm, his shoulder, across his neck. Eddie can feel hot blood coursing down his arm, soaking his t-shirt, and he stumbles back, then falls down the front steps of the shitty Petros High.
He's going to die here. He's going to take his last breath on this ashy sidewalk in another version of hell.
The flying monster shrieks and dives again, talons slashing, one cutting across his chest. He alternates between hot and cold as he stabs with the knife, still trying to defend himself, but the talons just keep coming, keep tearing at him, ripping into skin and muscle, sending more blood cascading down his front.
"No," he whimpers. "No, please."
Eddie doesn't know how long, if it's been days or as long as a week, he just knows it's been too long. His face is streaked with ash, his hair dirty and tangled, and there's blood on the t-shirt he'd been wearing to work the day he'd ended up here. His blood maybe. Or the blood of those weird little children that had attacked him at some point.
That's how he'd ended up with the knife in his hand. He'd taken it from one of them, stabbed them back, stabbed them over and over, chopping at their grabbing hands. Their blood is on his shirt and his hands and he hasn't slept in way too long, but he's afraid to let himself rest in this place. All he wants is to get back to Darrow, back to his familiar bedroom and his friends and his band and his job.
He's tucked into a small corner in what he thinks is some fucked up version of Petros High. Eventually he'll have to move. He keeps hearing things shifting out there in the dark, skittering on a thousand legs like a bug, but bigger. Too big.
Big enough to hurt, he knows.
It's just that he's terrified. Broken. Something inside him is unravelling, because when he was in the Upside Down, at least he was never alone, and now he's by himself. He's found and lost people, seeing them just ahead before they disappear into the ash. Right now, he thinks it's likely he'll die down here, die again, and no one will ever know what happened to him.
Hawkins can go on thinking he's some kind of devil worshipper, he doesn't care, but he wants Darrow to think better of him. He wants people to know he didn't just leave.
The skittering gets closer and Eddie forces himself to move. He leads with the knife, the blade trembling in his hand, then hurries to the door of the office he's hidden himself inside. Behind him in the dark, the bugs get closer and he throws open the door, then rushes down the hall toward the exit.
Outside, the ash keeps falling. It never lets up.
Eddie inhales too deeply, breathes some in, and starts to cough. It's too loud, he's drawing too much attention to himself and he tries to step back into the school, but something has closed the door behind him and locked him out. Something else screams overhead and Eddie goes still, frozen in terror, as a shape materializes from the sky. It's not a bird. Not a bat, and not one of the awful bats that had followed him to Darrow. It's bigger than that, razor sharp talons on the ends of its feet, and they're coming right for Eddie.
At the last second, he thinks to raise the knife, but he just barely nicks the thing. It screams again, awful and loud, and dives for him, talons ripping at his upraised arm, his shoulder, across his neck. Eddie can feel hot blood coursing down his arm, soaking his t-shirt, and he stumbles back, then falls down the front steps of the shitty Petros High.
He's going to die here. He's going to take his last breath on this ashy sidewalk in another version of hell.
The flying monster shrieks and dives again, talons slashing, one cutting across his chest. He alternates between hot and cold as he stabs with the knife, still trying to defend himself, but the talons just keep coming, keep tearing at him, ripping into skin and muscle, sending more blood cascading down his front.
"No," he whimpers. "No, please."
