"$9.42."

The cashier watched expectedly as Cora pulled out exact change and handed it to her.

"Thanks," Cora told her as she picked up the brown paper bag of peanut butter, bread, and a few easy-to-munch-on vegetables.

Before she left the grocers, she watched as someone put up a missing poster on one of the tall indoor pillars. Eyebrows drawn, she approached the man—no, a teenager. His shoulders were tense as he stared at the picture he had just put up.

"I'm sorry," she said, approaching him quietly. "Do you know him?"

He kept staring at the poster. "Yes. He's my brother."

Instead of prodding him, she learned all that she needed from the printed text. Reaching over, she pulled at one of the loose slips of paper with a telephone number on it, then stuck it in her purse. With another apology, she left him alone, because she could sense that his grief was fresh.

As she slowly made her way back to her apartment, she waved good mornings to folks who were getting ready to leave for work.

Before she entered her building, a police officer at the corner approached her. Cora clutched her groceries to her body and put on a pleasant smile.

"Good morning," she said to him.

"Morning, miss…"

"Cora."

He had a notepad out, and he was jotting something down. "And you live in this building, Miss Cora?"

She nodded affirmatively.

"Nothing to be concerned about," he reassured her. "We're just curious to know if you saw anything the night of the twenty-second."

Cora immediately knew what this was about. "The night of that murder? No, officer."

"Frank Hill," he explained, "was last seen at the casino. He was found at two in the morning with critical damage to his skull. Just two streets over."

"Yes, Cora. Do you even remember him?"

Cora's lips parted at the question as her eyes slid over to who was now behind the officer. "No, I don't know who you're talking about. I'm sorry."

The officer flipped his notebook shut, and gave her a firm nod. "Please contact us if anything at all pops into your mind."

When he turned to leave, so did Cora. She walked straight into her building, and then she was running to her apartment. Placing her groceries on the kitchen counter, she headed straight to the bathroom.

I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm going insane, but I'm fine.

That was what she told herself as she slapped water on her face. Gripping the sides of the basin, she stared at herself in the mirror.

Stop this. None of it is real. None of it has ever been real.

From her angle, she could see the kitchen behind her through the mirror, and she could also see him.

"Complete skull fracture. Instant death," he was saying, peeking into the bag of groceries. "Did he deserve how quickly you killed him?" And then he was walking towards her, his image growing in the mirror the closer he got—but he stopped just before the bathroom, his face stone and rigid. "No. He didn't deserve it at all. Not with the thoughts that were running through his mind. Not with the plans he had for you."

Cora let her head hang and shut her eyes. When she opened them, she was alone.

And then, she was desperately pleading with herself through the mirror, "Please. I can't handle this right now. I can't do it. I need to be at the school in a few hours."

She couldn't touch that cabinet. Not this early.

Taking cautious steps out to the rest of her apartment, she was relieved to find it entirely empty. Wind blew through the broken window in her kitchen, and she was once again reminded of the night before.

It was insanity, she thought. Complete and utter insanity.

She shivered at what her unconscious was implying about Frank Hill's intentions that night. She surely had sensed it, too. After all, he'd been dead before he could even lay a hand on her.


By the end of the week, Cora felt an unusual exhaustion sink into her. As she left the school that evening, she kept an alert eye out for street corners, shadows, and oddly enough, park benches.

It was all becoming more frequent. The sensations, the sounds, and the visions. She recalled that she had always had an underlying sense that she was being watched, but the escalation to audible and visual interactions was new. And certainly, she had never felt touch before.

She couldn't define what was happening to her, but a book she found at the library that day had tried. She had knelt at the very back of the room, scouring the bottom shelves of the Mental Health section. And then she had sat there, staring at a page—not in terror, but in reluctant acceptance. The word had popped out at her fairly quickly.

Schizophrenia.

As she had read through the pages, she had felt an odd sense of comfort at being able to put a name to her hysteria.

And now, as she walked home with her arms wrapped around her torso, she shivered with the light summer breeze. She was ill, she told herself. It was a clinical issue, and that didn't mean that she was crazy.

The people around her passed her by, and the excited buzz of a Friday failed to lighten her mood. When she reached her apartment, she carefully locked the door and plopped down onto her couch. She opened her purse and counted the bills in her possession.

She didn't need to go back to the casino for at least another week, but she decided that she would go anyway. Her apartment was lonely and desolate, and staying in on a Friday evening was just the perfect way for her to wallow in her illness.

In her bathroom, she removed the light, decorative scarf from around her neck and stared at the hollows beneath her eyes. Alcohol induced sleep was poor sleep, and it showed.

Her fingers started to work the buttons of her dress that clasped at her front, but she halted immediately when she saw a familiar face watching her from the kitchen.

Keeping her eyes on him, she shut the door behind her with her foot, confining herself to her bathroom, and hoping her mind would give her some decency to shower in peace.

With her dress gone, she hopped into the shower, quickly rinsing away the day. The heavy stream of water felt wonderful on her shoulders.

"You should stay home tonight."

Cora's hand hovered over her shampoo. She hadn't heard the door open—and of course, why would it? She took a breath, and continued to wash her hair. Her lips hummed a soft tune—not because she thought she could even remotely sing, but mostly to distract her mind.

Turning off the shower, she pulled her towel close before stepping out—suddenly wary of who she would see standing in her bathroom. But after she saw that she was alone, she began a calming routine of drying off and moisturizing.

After she had a fresh dress on for the night, she wrapped her wet hair in a towel and grabbed her heeled shoes from by the door.

When she turned around, he blocked her way.

"Stay home, Cora."

She walked past him and perched herself on the couch to slip on her shoes. She fixated on the feel of the soft fabric that wrapped around her ankles, and the slightly uncomfortable sensation at the arch of her foot as she stood with the heels on. They weren't high, but she still felt taller. When she focused on the little things, it was hard for her mind to wander. And she needed her mind to stay put.

Back in the bathroom, she brushed through her hair, and watched him once more through the mirror. But this time, he was staring out of her broken kitchen window. She still hadn't gotten it fixed. With his attention away from her, Cora gently placed her hairbrush down on the bathroom counter and realized how closely she was watching him.

He was angled away from her slightly, and the blonde in his hair had a distinct shine to it beneath her kitchen lighting. Cora turned around to her kitchen, but as usual, no one was there.

Because no one is there, Cora. You silly, sick girl.

She grabbed her purse from the couch and headed towards her door, but she stopped herself before grabbing the knob. Her head snapped at the whoosh of wind coming from her kitchen window. Cautiously, she stepped near it and gazed down at the street. A few people were walking—individuals, couples, couples with children. The streetlights highlighted them as they passed beneath one to the next.

The unsettling feeling in her stomach eased when she couldn't see anything of concern, though she couldn't imagine what she had been searching for. Noting the wind, she thought it was wise to grab a shawl before heading out into the deep night.

She liked the sounds her shoes made against the concrete beneath. It made her feel like the girls around her—normal, and out to have a good time. She smiled at any passerby's, because that was what she did. Young, old, woman, or man—she liked human connection, no matter how distant. She found that she craved it like any other.


It was late night, early morning when Cora left the casino. She had been there more for the company than the cash, and she was drastically sober when she left. The conversations she had with the men and women around the blackjack table were surface-level, as with most of her conversations. She felt a lack of fulfillment as she walked the empty streets of Hawkins. Her life was supposed to begin two years ago, but here she was, walking home alone on a dark, cold morning, the smell of alcohol light on her breath.

But because the last vodka martini had mostly worn off, she had the sense to realize that she hadn't seen him in a while. She stopped beneath a streetlight and swept a gaze around her. Yes, she thought with a little bit of glee, she hadn't seen him for hours.

But the moment she made it to the next street, an eerie sound tore through the night. It was a whine—or a growl. Cora's heels clicked to a stop as her head snapped to the direction of where she thought it came from.

Another growl. And a scream.

Had it been an animal? Cora was walking now, faster than before, in that direction. But then, her heels scraped to a stop in between two large buildings, and the dark emptiness of the one-way street ahead. A low growl emanated from the darkness before she finally saw it walk into the light.

Cora didn't know what to think when she first saw the creature. It was an odd thing—to see something you've never seen before and not have a name to give it.

Whatever it was, it had a humanoid form until her gaze reached its head, where Cora could see flaps of skin closed up like a flower that had failed to bloom. It walked on two legs, but its arms were abnormally long with sharp claws at the end. Its gray flesh seemed to have a certain shine to it beneath the reflection of the streetlights

It took a step, maybe two, before it was lifted off the ground and thrown into the side of the nearby building.

Cora quickly glanced at her hands. She couldn't have been doing this, could she?

Falling back down to the ground, the creature landed on two feet and faced her. She watched its petals peel back, revealing its threatening teeth with a deafening roar. The fear that was pulsing in her chest now ignited. She raised a hand with every intention of slamming the creature back into the same wall, but it was too quick, and she felt disappointingly out of practice.

Cora found herself on her back, the creature hovering over her. Up close, she could see that its entire head made up the monstrosity that was its mouth. It roared above her once more, spewing what looked like saliva onto her clothes.

Its claws dug into the ground, mere inches from her arms. Cora wanted to scream—to muster the power she knew she had in her to fight for her life, but she hesitated. And that should have killed her.

But she lay still on the cold ground, watching the creature threaten her with its rows and rows of teeth, its sickeningly sharp claws, and disgusting exterior. She wondered how long it would take for her to die. It would be painful, she knew, staring at its teeth as it slobbered on her dress. Its claws were long enough to puncture straight through her chest, and Cora began to wonder why it hadn't already done so.

Her heart was beating wildly, pushing the adrenaline through her body, begging her to get up and defend herself. And she should have. The moments she lay there could have been moments she could be tearing it apart. But now, with a final roar of saliva and fury, its mouth dug down towards her head. Cora thought she would have closed her eyes, but they were wide open, eager to watch her own destruction on this pointless Friday night.

But instead of destruction, she witnessed hesitation.

The creature had stopped mere inches from her face, its saliva dripping down onto her cheek, and then below to the ground.

Cora's chest was heaving, she realized, as the creature stepped back from her on all fours, then rose to its feet. She propped herself on her hands into a sitting position, and wiped its drool from her face with her shoulder.

The creature then roared at her once more—a frightening, breathtaking sound, before Cora lost sight of it for a second, and then realized it had been thrown to the building beside her. Brick and dust fell around the creature as it climbed out of the rubble with another threatening growl.

The creature wasn't paying attention to her anymore. It turned and looked back to the darkened street.

And then there was a girl.

She stepped into the streetlight and cast her hand to the side, grabbing the creature and tossing it to the opposite building. She grabbed at the air with her fingers, then swung her arm around again, dragging the creature on the ground before smashing it into the building again.

Upon seeing the girl, Cora managed to get to her feet. She was entranced, she realized, as she watched the girl do all of the things she hadn't.

But then, people were appearing behind her. No—not people. Kids.

And that jolted Cora into a new sense of awareness. Following the girl's movements, she mustered her strength and took a hold of the creature without a single touch. As if acting as her mirror, she replicated the girl's exact movements as they took a hold of the creature together. They floated it up and out of the rubble and back to the side of the other building.

"Get back," Cora yelled towards the kids that were approaching, then pushed her hand forward once more as she helped the girl slam the creature into the wall.

They focused on keeping it there as Cora's hand began to spasm. She grunted through the pang of a headache as she increased her concentration.

And then, there was light.

The midsection of the creature began to light up as monstrous screams tore through its mouth. Cora stuck her hand out more, and she could feel the wetness of her own blood at the top of her lips.

And then, together, they were incinerating the creature out of existence. Slowly, its flesh began to tear away and turn to wisps of ash. From the corner of her eye, Cora saw the girl take another step forward, her hand outstretched just like hers.

And in the next moment, there was nothing but gray, floating ash.

They were both panting from the unleashed energy as the world fell into silence. Cora looked back over at where the creature had last remained, not quite understanding what had happened.

But when she turned over to the girl, she couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. The girl wore a casual T-shirt and jeans—nothing that Cora could ever imagine her in. Her hair hadn't grown much, but there was still time, she thought with solemn hope.

Cora took a tentative step towards her, wiping off the blood from her upper lip, and she felt happy to see that the girl's face relaxed into recognition. Cora smiled disbelievingly at her.

"Eleven."


A/N: I'm just happy she wasn't drunk for that fight.