A/N: Multiple alternate universes. Includes references to self-harm.


1.

Eddie wiped out on his bike in the school parking lot. He was late, so there weren't a lot of people around to see it, but that's where his luck ended. He didn't get his hands down fast enough as he fell, and his head bounced off the pavement when he hit the ground. It took him a minute to get his wind back. When he eventually found his feet and stood up, it didn't feel like anything was broken. That was good. He couldn't see straight, which was bad, but also couldn't think of what to do about it. Guessing that he should go to class, he stumbled through the school doors. He only made it a few steps down the hall when someone grabbed his arm.

"Munson! What the hell happened to you?"

Eddie tried to look at whoever was holding his arm, but his eyes wouldn't focus.

"My bike…" he said in the direction of the blurry person.

"Jeez, kid," someone said.

Eddie was pulled along by his arm for a while, then deposited into a chair. After a few seconds, the room stayed still long enough for him to realize that he was in the nurse's office. He also realized that his head hurt and the side of his face was wet. He put his hand to his cheek, and it came away red with blood. Well, shit. Things were starting to make sense now. The nurse bustled over to him with swabs and iodine and bandages. He was too dazed to do anything but submit quietly to whatever was happening. When the nurse finished poking and prodding at him, she dropped a bag of ice cubes in his hand and led him behind a curtain to a row of vinyl-cushioned beds at the back of the room.

"Keep the ice on your head and lie down," she said as she slipped his backpack off his shoulders and set it on the floor between the first two beds, "but don't fall asleep."

There was already someone – or at least a lump under a blanket – in the first bed. Eddie stretched out on the second bed, resting the bag of ice above his eye on the sore side of his face.

The ice numbed his skin pretty quickly, but also made him feel alert. Eddie stared at the ceiling for a while, and then at the curtain. His shoes. His fingers. It was too quiet. The quiet made him feel crazy. He needed some kind of distraction. He leaned over the edge of the bed and dug his binder out of his backpack. Resting it open on his chest, he tried to read the notes he had made for the next Hellfire meeting, but couldn't make his handwriting come into focus. He swore under his breath and closed the binder.

The person in the other bed rolled over. It was a girl.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to wake you," he said.

"I wasn't really asleep," the girl replied, pushing the blanket off her face and shoulders.

She looked familiar. Eddie squinted at her until he was sure he was right. It was Chrissy Cunningham. They had hung out once, a few years ago, but she probably didn't remember him.

"Eddie?" She made his name a cautious question.

"Yeah, that's me," he replied, trying not to feel too happy. Of course she knew his name. Everyone at school knew his name. That wasn't the same as remembering him. "Hey, Chrissy."

"Hey," she answered, and gave him a small smile. Her eyes moved over the binder and his open backpack on the floor between them.

"Are you doing homework?"

"No, I'm working on my game. At least I was going to. I can't see straight when I try to read." He pointed at his bandages.

"Ouch," she grimaced. "What happened?"

"Ate some pavement on my ride into school today."

"Looks bad."

"Nah. It'll be fine." He closed the binder and shifted onto his side to face her. "What are you in for?"

"I guess I passed out for a minute in homeroom," she answered, absently pressing her fingers to a spot in the center of her chest. "I can't really remember."

"Oh. Do you feel ok?"

"No. I don't feel very good." She smiled briefly, but then put her hand over her face.

It took Eddie a few seconds to realize she was crying. He froze, stricken, with no idea what to do.

Thankfully, the nurse must have heard, because she hurried around the curtain and over to Chrissy's side.

"Shh shh. Just relax now, sweetie." The nurse gently brushed Chrissy's hair off her forehead and then rested the palm of her hand there. Eddie noticed that the nurse's other hand pinched Chrissy's wrist. "Slow breaths in, slow breaths out," she ordered softly.

Chrissy sniffed convulsively a few times, then adjusted her breathing to match the nurse's directions.

"Good girl," the nurse said after a minute. "Just lie still and rest, and keep those breaths slow and even."

Chrissy nodded.

The nurse patted her cheek, smiling calmly. Eddie saw that her smile dropped when she turned away. He studied Chrissy. She really didn't look good. Maybe it was just the lighting, but her face seemed too white and taut, her eyes too dark.

"Sorry," she said, "I've just been feeling so weird, lately."

"No, you're fine." Eddie smiled, but kept his eyes on the curtain as he did.

"What kind of game is it?"

"Huh?" Eddie was startled by her voice, even though she spoke softly.

"What game are you working on?" She pressed.

"Oh. Uh," Eddie felt an unusual twinge of self-consciousness. "Dungeons and Dragons."

Chrissy looked skeptical. Eddie braced himself.

"I've never played that," she said.

Eddie released a breath.

"It's a kind of a board game, but with a fantasy story."

"Fantasy? Like the Narnia books?"

"Sort of." Eddie picked at the corner of his binder. "The story happens while you are playing. I mean, what happens in the story depends on how you roll the dice and the choices the players make on the board. So no one really knows what's going to happen next."

Chrissy seemed to consider this for a few seconds.

"Sounds fun."

"Yeah, it's a lot of fun. You should play with us, sometime." As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Eddie regretted them. He knew it would never happen.

"That would be nice," Chrissy said. "Maybe when I'm feeling better."

Eddie thought, from the way she said it, that she didn't believe it would ever happen either.

Chrissy stopped talking after that. Eddie didn't try to start another conversation, because he didn't want to bother her. He tried to keep his eyes on the ceiling, but once in a while he glanced to the other bed. He was sure that Chrissy fell asleep eventually, although her face never relaxed when she did.

It was quiet again, and the quiet made him feel crazy. Eddie couldn't take it anymore. The next time the nurse poked her head around the curtain, he said he wanted to leave. She gave him some fresh bandages, and after asking him a few questions and checking his eyes, declared that he was well enough to go back to class. Eddie stood and leaned down to pick up his backpack. As he bent near Chrissy, he was tempted to reach out and touch her hand or her face, like the nurse had done. Just to make sure she was okay. But he didn't. As he walked through the office, he saw the nurse at her desk talking in low, serious tones over the phone. He looked back toward the beds before he stepped out, but all he could see of Chrissy behind the curtain were the toes of her white sneakers.

That was the last time he saw her. Chrissy Cunningham was taken to the hospital where she died that night of heart failure. It was announced in a mandatory all-school assembly the next day. People gasped and cried and shook their heads in disbelief. Eddie sat in silence, picking at the scabs on his face. After the announcement, the girls had to stay for a lecture on eating disorders, but the boys were dismissed. Eddie had been planning to cut class anyway to go meet Reefer Rick that afternoon. But when he walked out the doors and got on his bike, he didn't go out to the lake. He rode home, went into his room, turned his music up loud, and cried.


2.

Eddie was walking into the auditorium on his way to Hellfire when someone tapped the back of his arm. He spun around and nearly elbowed a girl in the face. He had been expecting to see someone taller behind him, not a little cheerleader.

"Sorry," he muttered, embarrassed.

"No, I'm sorry," she answered. "I shouldn't have snuck up on you."

"Do you need something? Or…" he lost track of his words. The girl was Chrissy Cunningham. Chrissy hadn't talked to him since middle school, and until this moment he hadn't expected that she would speak to him ever again.

"I was just wondering," she shifted her weight from foot to foot as she talked, and looked around nervously, "if it's true, what they say about you."

"Mmm," he laughed once through his nose. "You'll need to be more specific."

"That people can buy drugs from you." She finally stopped fidgeting and looked directly into his eyes.

They stared at each other for a few seconds in silence while he tried to figure out what was going on. He needed more information.

"Why would you wonder that?"

"Because I want to buy some," she whispered.

This was a set up. It must be. He could picture it: he and Chrissy would agree to meet somewhere at a specific time, he would show up in a secluded place, and instead of Chrissy there would be a posse of angry jocks waiting to beat him up. Or maybe a police officer there to search him.

"Give me a break, okay?" He sneered.

"What?" She blinked.

"Nice try, but you can tell your boyfriend or whoever put you up to this that I'm not going to fall for it."

"Fall for-"

"Later, Chrissy." He turned and walked away, more upset than he wanted to admit. She used to be so sweet, when they were kids. And it's not like he had turned out to be anything great, but at least he didn't go around trying to trick people. He turned his head, glancing over his shoulder as he walked. Chrissy stood where he had left her. He thought he saw her swipe the cuff of her sweater over her cheek. A little bit of doubt tugged at his mind, but he ignored it.

That was the last time he saw her. A few weeks later, Chrissy Cunningham swallowed a bottle of Percocet and died on her bathroom floor. The day Eddie found out about it was the day he started using from his own supply. Things went downhill quickly after that. He turned out to be just like his old man, after all.


3.

Eddie was helping Chrissy roll joints at the picnic table. They were talking as usual, when Eddie brought up the subject he had been dancing around for a while.

"You should really stop acknowledging my presence at school, you know," he told her.

"What?" She stopped what she was doing and met his eyes.

"Don't say 'hi' to me in the halls. Or anywhere, really." It was a littler harder for him to say this while she was looking directly at him, but he kept going. "It would be better if you just ignored me. Unless we're alone, I mean." He tried to smile.

"Why?" She sounded confused.

"Well, Chrissy, you're kind of giving away our thing, here," he laughed unconvincingly. "I mean, everyone knows that the cheer captain isn't going to talk with the loser freak, unless she needs something from him. I mean, that's why we're here now, right?"

"That's not the whole reason." She turned her gaze away from his, and her cheeks turned pink.

"Be that as it may-"

"Maybe people just think we're friends." Her interruption was directed at the table.

"No one thinks that, Chrissy," he said, flatly.

"I think that." She raised her eyes to his. "Don't you?"

"That's not the point, here," Eddie scoffed. He heard, too late, how it sounded like he was laughing at her.

Before he could explain himself, she got up from the picnic table and walked away. He called after her, but she didn't look back. He was too flustered to try and fix it, and let her go.

She started ignoring him whenever they passed each other in school. Which was what he had wanted, so there was no reason for him to feel hurt about it. But he started to worry that she would never speak to him again, period. Then he started to worry about her.

She had told him before, back when she first started buying, that she was only smoking at night to fall asleep. But one morning he caught sight of her before classes and suspected that she had shown up to school stoned. He knew she hadn't been caught. If she had, the news would be all over town in a minute. He wasn't surprised. It was easier to get away with stuff when nobody suspected you. But it was just a matter of time before something like that landed her in trouble.

Then, Chrissy broke up with Jason. Eddie was there when it happened. He was spending his lunch in the cafeteria trying to memorize stupid Latin verbs, when he became aware of an argument happening at another table. At first he ignored the male voice shouting "why are you doing this" over and over again, until he noticed that another, more familiar voice was answering those shouts. It was Chrissy's voice, alternately pleading and stern.

Eddie looked up from his notes. There they were, Chrissy and Jason, the perfect couple. He stood on one side of a table, shouting and pointing. She stood on the other side with her arms crossed over her chest.

Well, well, well. Eddie hadn't been giving Chrissy enough credit. He thought for sure that the relationship would go straight from teenage bliss to unhappy marriage in a year or so, but she was jumping that train right off its track. Unless this was all some prelude to a heartfelt make-up, just for the love of drama. Possible, but judging from the look of determination on Chrissy's face: unlikely. A hush descended over the cafeteria, conversations trailing off and heads turning, the better to hear and see the fireworks.

After one more unsatisfactory answer from Chrissy to his "but why are you doing this" entreaty, Jason turned and strode around the head of the table, clearly cutting a path to Chrissy's side. She unfolded her arms and took some hurried steps backward.

Eddie's chair scraped against the floor. He was on his feet, muscles wound up like springs. Before anything else happened, the gym teacher barked Jason's name. Jason froze, then obeyed the teacher's gestured order to meet him over by the wall.

Chrissy picked up her backpack and slung it over her shoulders. Without looking at anyone, she hurried out of the cafeteria. All the conversations that had stopped a minute before now restarted at twice the volume.

Eddie sat down. Jason was still receiving a manly talking-to from the gym teacher. When he was dismissed, he walked back to his seat, still fuming. Eddie didn't intend to lock eyes with him, but he did, and didn't look away when it happened. Jason was so angry that he was actually ugly. Eddie smiled. He shouldn't have, but he couldn't help it. He was enjoying himself too much. A spark of hatred blazed to life in Jason's eyes. It almost made Eddie nervous, but he laughed, and Jason looked away first. Typical.

Maybe this explained why Chrissy had been acting weird lately. Trouble in paradise. He couldn't bring himself to feel bad about it, but Chrissy was probably having a hard day. Normally, he wouldn't have approached her on a non-business matter, but times were a-changing, weren't they?

He found her after school at the picnic table, lying on one of the benches. She was on her back, legs crossed at the ankles, fingers laced over her stomach, staring up at the sky. She didn't move as he approached.

"Hey, Chrissy."

"Hey," she said to the treetops.

"Need something to take your mind off?"

"No," she answered. "Just some peace and quiet."

"Oh, sorry." Eddie felt foolish and started to turn around.

"You don't have to go." Chrissy called out. "I don't need a break from you. It's everyone else."

That was enough of an invitation for him. He straddled the opposite bench, and lay down on his back. He had to keep his feet on the ground for balance, but it was actually pretty comfortable. He turned his head and watched Chrissy's profile. She didn't seem particularly heartbroken, but there was an air of tired sadness in her face.

"Rough times?" He ventured.

"You could say that." Her tone was resigned.

"Did something happen, or…"

"Not one thing in particular. Just…you know how Jason is." There was a new, unfamiliar edge to her voice. "Everything has to be perfect with him. I couldn't live up to it anymore."

"Is it going to stick? Or, un-stick, I guess?" He turned his gaze to the sky, too embarrassed to watch her reaction to his question. "Seems like he didn't want to break up. "

"It's over. Jason will recover. He's just upset that he got dumped." She sounded older, now. "He doesn't really want me. Any cheerleader would do for him, really."

Eddie thought she was wrong about that, but didn't want to say anything that might sound like he was arguing for Jason's case. And he was glad to know she was putting her foot down. He smiled at the sky.

"God," Chrissy went on. "It's going to be a disaster when my mom finds out." She lifted her hands from her stomach and draped them over her eyes. "Maybe I'll just pretend the break up never happened and see how long I can get away with it."

Eddie couldn't follow that logic.

"Hey, by the way," he changed the subject, "I'm sorry about the last time we talked. I was kind of mean to you."

Chrissy moved her hands to the back of her head, making her palms into a pillow as she turned her gaze to him.

"That's alright. You had a point. I've been kind of mean to you, too, since then."

Eddie made a dismissive noise. There were a few seconds of silence before he thought of something else.

"Hey, uh, did Jason ever find out about this?" He hurried to specify, "About the pot, I mean."

"No," Chrissy answered. "He would have said so, if he did."

"Are you sure? Seems like you've been partaking more often than usual, lately." Eddie worried he had stepped out of line, but if Chrissy was offended, she didn't show it.

"Rough times," was all she said.

Another gap of silence followed. Eddie started to worry again.

"You okay?" He asked.

"Trying to be." She didn't sound confident.

"Well, you know," he started to feel brave, "if you need some peace and quiet, nothing soothes the nerves like a night of heavy metal at a dive bar. That will make you forget all your troubles."

Chrissy laughed.

"I'm sure it would."

"Seriously, you should come see us." No turning back now. "Just think about it. If Corroded Coffin makes it big one day, you can say: 'I saw them before they were famous,' and everyone will be jealous of you."

"Well, when you put it like that." She was starting to sound like her old self again.

"You won't regret it." Relief was making him a little giddy. "That's not true. You might regret it, but you'll have fun."

"I could use some fun." She gave him a real, full smile.

"Alright then." He rocked himself into a sitting position, and drummed his hands on the bench. "It's a date. Don't you forget it, Cunningham."

"How could I possibly?" She said through a giggle.

Eddie stood. He expected that Chrissy would get up, too, but she didn't move. She looked comfortable, stretched out with her arms folded behind her head, but also small and vulnerable. He shifted in place.

"Are you staying here, or what?"

"Yeah," she answered, "I just need to think for a little while before I go home."

"Okay. I mean, it will start to get dark soon, you know."

"I know." Again, she sounded older than usual, more mature. "I just need a minute, Eddie. I'll be fine."

"Okay. If you say so." He walked a few steps and yelled over his shoulder. "Don't forget: Tuesday night."

"Tuesday night," she called back. "I'll be there."

"Good," he shouted, sounding more confident than he felt.

His head swiveled over his shoulder several times as he walked away. Chrissy didn't move. She just lay there, staring into the sky.

That was the last time he saw her. Chrissy Cunningham's body was found floating in Lover's Lake the next day. Eddie was hauled into the police station that evening. The cops marched him through the office and into a dark room. He was pushed into a chair across a table from Chief Hopper, who asked if he was seeing a girl at school. Eddie assumed it was just a trick to get him to admit to selling pot, so he gave a smart-ass answer. Hopper put a photo of Chrissy on the table. Eddie's legs turned to jelly.

"Did something happen to Chrissy?" He felt himself smiling, which wasn't the right thing to do, but he was having trouble controlling his muscles.

"Are you seeing her?" Hopper rumbled.

"We hang out sometimes." Eddie stopped a nervous laugh from bubbling out of his chest. He didn't know what was going on.

"Are you sleeping with her?" The cop asked like it was nothing, like it was a question with an obvious answer.

"No!" Eddie's hands were kneading together. He hid them under the table.

"You're sure she isn't your girlfriend?" Hopper pushed the picture closer to Eddie. "That's a pretty girl to just hang out with."

"I'm sure." Eddie knew it was important to keep eye contact, but it was getting difficult. "She's my friend."

"Did you hang out with her last night?" Hopper made it sound like the answer didn't matter, but that couldn't be true.

"No." Finally, Eddie was on solid ground. "I picked up a shift cleaning toilets at the plant."

"Is that usually how you spend your nights?" A note of derision from the cop.

Eddie was used to this. He could cope with this kind of conversation.

"When I need some extra money," he said. "Which I do. I'm going to graduate this year."

"They've got cameras over at the plant?"

"I think so. But lots of people saw me."

Hopper stood up and walked over to the corner where he had a muted conversation with one of the other officers. He came back to the table, his face grim.

"Look, kid-" Hopper said gently.

"I'm not a kid." Eddie started to panic.

"I'm sorry, Edward. Chrissy is dead. She was killed last night."

There was a moment when Eddie thought he was falling backward. He flinched and reached out his hands to stop himself from hitting the floor. But he wasn't falling. He was sitting still.

"That's bullshit," he said, dizzy. "This is some kind of trick."

"It's not, son."

"No! This is bullshit!"

Eddie pushed away from the table and moved to the door. He would go find Chrissy right now, and she would tell him it wasn't true. It was all a trick.

One of the cops started to block the door, but Eddie had more momentum and barreled out into the office. Jason was there, sitting next to a desk. Eddie froze as their eyes met. Jason was a mess. Clothes and hair unkempt, back bent and shoulders slouched. His pallid was face marked with red lines. Scratch marks.

A pitch-black wave of certainty crashed into Eddie's mind. He threw himself at Jason, but something hooked around his arms and yanked him sideways. He stumbled back into the room as the door slammed. He spun around, wanting to charge out again, but Chief Hopper stood between him and the exit.

"He killed her!" Eddie screamed, "Didn't he?"

"That's for us to deal with. Not you."

Eddie made another move to the door, but Hopper blocked him and put a hand on Eddie's chest.

"Take it easy."

"Chrissy-" Eddie choked on the word. He paced back and forth, trying to catch his breath. Finally, he dropped into a corner, put his head in his arms, and cried.

His throat was raw by the time Hopper helped him to his feet.

"Look, son," he said, keeping a heavy hand on Eddie's shoulder. "This will eat you up from the inside if you hold onto it like this." Hopper held up his other hand to stop the reply on Eddie's lips. "You don't need to forget her, but you need to let her go." He gave Eddie a gentle shake.

Eddie scrubbed his sleeves across his face. Hopper's grip tightened on his shoulder, then led him out of the room and to the station doors. His uncle was the parking lot, leaning on the hood of his car. Eddie got in without a word and stared out the window. The two men spoke briefly to each other before his uncle sat in the driver's seat.

"I'm sorry, Ed." His voice was heavy and tired.

Eddie couldn't take his eyes from the window.

"Thanks for coming," he managed hoarsely.

Neither of them talked on the drive. When they arrived home, Eddie went straight to his room. He pulled a notebook and pen out of his backpack, turned to an empty page, and began to write. He wrote for hours, kept writing until the first pen was dry and he had to find a second. He filled one notebook and then another. He wrote about things he remembered and things he had dreamed, silly little things, and things he thought were important. He wrote stories for his friends, and songs for Chrissy. Everything he could think and feel he put on the page. He wrote through the night, and fell asleep in the first light of morning.


4.

She came to his trailer in the middle of the night. He hadn't been expecting her, but he knew why she was there. The ketamine was hidden, but he wished he had been able to get rid of it already.

"It's a little late, Chrissy," he said, holding the door open for her. "I'm not a vending machine, you know." If he could get her out fast enough, maybe she wouldn't ask about it.

She stepped past him into the trailer. She wore a baggy sweater over leggings, and her hair was braided on each side of her head. He had never seen her without makeup or dressed so casually before. She looked even younger and smaller than usual. But pretty. Always pretty, Chrissy.

"No, I know. I'm sorry." She sounded anxious. "I couldn't get away earlier without anyone noticing." She drew her hand out of her pocket and held out a small stack of crisply folded bills.

He looked at her and sighed through his nose.

"I don't have that much on me."

"I'll take whatever you have, please. Is this enough?"

He took the cash from her and counted it.

"Too much," he said, holding out half of the bills. "I told you, I don't have a lot."

She stretched out her hand to take them from him. There was a swollen welt across her right palm.

"Ouch," he breathed. "Is that from cheerleading?"

"What?"

He pointed at her palm.

"Oh, yeah." Chrissy stuffed the money into her pocket and didn't remove her hand. She shifted her weight from foot to foot, like she was doing a strange little dance. Her vibe was weird tonight. Or she was making him feel weirder than usual. He couldn't put his finger on what was exactly was wrong.

"Alright," he said, deciding to stick to his routine, "just a second, I'll go get your stuff."

"Okay," she nodded with the ghost of a smile.

Eddie walked down the hall to his bedroom, trying not to look at the place where he had hidden the ketamine, just in case she was watching. It took him a minute to count through his inventory and make sure that he had done his math right the first time. When he returned, baggies in hand, he found her where he left her: standing in the middle of the room, looking uncomfortable.

"Here you go." He held out the baggies, and noticed that she grabbed them with her left hand.

"Are you sure this is all you have," she asked, her voice somewhere between pleading and annoyed.

"You think I'm lying to you, Chrissy?"

"I don't know," she shrugged. "Sometimes I don't understand you."

"But sometimes you do understand me?" He wanted to sting her just a little. "You think you've got me all figured out?"

"I thought…" she started, but her voice trailed into silence.

"Is that all for tonight?" He gestured towards the door.

Chrissy stayed put.

"Did I do something wrong? Are you mad at me?" Her voice wavered as her eyes grew big and shiny. Always pretty, Chrissy, even when she was sad and hurt.

A small flame of resentment crackled to life in his chest.

"Stop it, will you?"

"Stop what?" She blinked.

"Buttering me up so that I'll give you the ketamine. Which you think I have, but I don't."

Chrissy stared at him for a second of silence, then flinched.

"You think I'm flirting with you in exchange for drugs?"

"You wouldn't be the first girl to try it," Eddie said with a mean laugh.

Chrissy looked like she was about to burst into tears. Her eyes were wet and her face drawn, but she swallowed and seemed to regain control of herself.

"I wouldn't have brought so much cash if I wanted to do that," she said, her voice shaking.

His stomach twisted into a knot.

"Why don't you go home, Chrissy."

"Will you just give me the Special K, please? I need it."

He spun, paced away a few steps and back again.

"Will you just quit asking," he shouted. "I don't have any!"

"Why won't you help me?" She swallowed as tears rolled over her cheeks.

"What the hell do you think I'm trying to do, Chrissy? This is me helping you!"

If those words meant anything to Chrissy, she didn't show it. Her face was so pale, she looked like she was about to pass out. She swallowed again. And again. Her eyes darted away from his, and she lunged toward the door. She made it only one step, then dropped to her knees. Eddie grabbed her arm just as she bent over and puked on the floor. She tipped forward, and he hurried to grab her other arm. For a few moments she hung there in his grip, arms splayed and head lolling forward like a puppet.

"Holy shit, Chrissy," he said, breathless. It cost him almost no effort to lift her up and carry her the few steps to the couch, where he dropped her as gently as he could. "Stay on your side," he ordered as he adjusted her position on the cushions.

She didn't respond.

He rushed into the kitchen, grabbed a clean (he hoped) glass, and filled it with water. Some of it sloshed over his hand as he strode back to the couch. Leaning over, he pressed the edge of the glass against her lips and tipped it so the water poured over her mouth. Nothing. He sat on the edge of the couch and wrapped his arm around her shoulders to lift her into a sitting position. Putting the glass to her mouth again, he winced as it clunked against her teeth. Water spilled over her cheeks and into her nose, but some of it went into her mouth. Her head turned against his arm and she coughed.

"Chrissy?"

She blinked a few times. Her eyes roamed in an odd pattern before they landed on his face.

"Hey, Chrissy."

"Hey," she whispered.

At first he thought she was smiling, but her face crumpled and she began to cry.

"I'm sorry," she moaned through her tears.

"Shhh, just relax."

"I'll clean it up."

"I play at a sleazy bar every week. You think I've never had to deal with vomit before?"

She tried to get up, but he held her in place.

"Chrissy, seriously, just stay put. It's no big deal."

She squirmed out of his arms and turned her body into the couch, pressing herself into the cushions as if she were going to burrow through them. The back of her sweater had rucked up. There was something on her back, some kind of marking. He bent down to look closer. No, they weren't markings. They were shadows from the knobs of her spine and the arches of her ribs. Her skin looked like it was shrink-wrapped over her skeleton.

He jumped up from the couch and stepped away from her. He didn't know what to think. He couldn't think.

"Chrissy, what's going on?"

She didn't answer, just cried.

Eddie didn't say anything more. Instead, he went and got some towels out of the bathroom. The old ones, not the clean ones. He busied himself for a few minutes scrubbing the sick off the floor. It really wasn't that bad. Hardly anything had come up, just some watery, phlegmy stuff. It was gross, but he had encountered much worse in the men's room of The Hideout. And on the stage at The Hideout, for that matter. And in this trailer, if he was being honest. By the time he rinsed out the towels and dropped them into the laundry basket, he had gathered enough of his wits to talk again. He sat down on the floor near the couch where Chrissy was curled. Her sobs had subsided into quiet sniffles.

"Hey, Chrissy, can I talk to you for a sec?"

She sniffed a few more times and then sat up, drawing her knees up to her chest and wiping the cuff of her sweater across her cheeks as she turned to face him.

"Chrissy," he kept his voice low, "I think you need to talk to someone. A doctor, maybe."

"You don't understand." Her reply was a whisper. "It's not that simple."

"Does Ken know about it?" He hadn't meant to say that, but the words were out before he could stop them.

"Who?"

"Your boyfriend."

"No, he doesn't know anything about it. Why did you call him Ken? His name is Jason."

"Because he…looks like a Ken doll."

Chrissy stared at him in silence, then a noise burst out of her throat. For a second, he thought that she was going to puke again. But it wasn't puke. It was laughter. She covered her mouth as if she were surprised by the noise she had made. But it kept happening. Chrissy was laughing.

"What? Tell me I'm wrong," he challenged her, smiling because he had made her laugh. Didn't matter that it had been an accident.

"I can't. You're not wrong." She wiped at her face again. "Why do you live with your uncle?"

Eddie took a second to adjust to the abrupt change in conversation.

"Well, you know," he shifted and looked at the ceiling, "or maybe you don't know, that my dad's been in prison for a while. Probably not getting out soon. And my mom," he shrugged. "Who knows where she is. It's not all tragic, though. My uncle isn't a bad guy. I make it hard on him sometimes, we don't always get along. But he tries. Which counts, you know." His gaze had traveled from the ceiling to the floor while he talked, avoiding Chrissy along the way.

"Do you miss your mom?" Her voice was gentle.

"I mean, not really." It was easier to say all this to the floor. "I don't have a lot of memories of her. But I miss the idea of her, I guess."

"Are you mad at her?"

"What?" Eddie finally looked directly at Chrissy, staring at her own hands as her fingers picked at the yarn of her sweater.

"Do you ever wonder," she replied without moving her gaze, "why she didn't take care of you? Why she didn't love you enough to just take care of you? Like, what is wrong with you, that your own mother doesn't love you enough?"

Eddie chewed on his lip as he watched Chrissy pull and pick at the sweater. He wished he was smarter, and better with words.

"I used to," he said slowly. "But after a while I figured out that her leaving had more to do with her than it did with me."

A crease appeared between Chrissy's eyes, but she didn't look up.

Finally, Eddie knew the right thing to say. Leaning sideways until he was nearly upside down, with the ends of his hair trailing on the floor, he met her lowered eyes.

"There's nothing wrong with you, Chrissy," he told her.

"There is, though. There has to be."

"No." He sat upright, and took her gaze with him as he did so that she straightened as well. "There's nothing wrong with you. You can trust me. I'm your drug dealer."

She laughed a little, sad laugh.

"You're sweet, Eddie."

"I'm not," he hoped with everything he had that he wasn't blushing. "Just being honest."

She regarded him for another few seconds, then leaned back into the cushions.

"Can I stay here just a little while longer? I still don't feel great."

"Yeah, yeah, no problem." Eddie got to his feet, brushing his hands over his jeans. "Just nap or whatever."

She half-smiled at him, and closed her eyes.

"You know, it's my birthday tomorrow," she said, drowsing. "I'll be eighteen."

"Happy birthday," he said softly.

Eddie puttered around the trailer for a while, not sure what to do with himself. After about ten minutes, he heard Chrissy's breathing grow louder, and he guessed that she was sleeping. He considered going to bed himself, but his bedroom felt too far away from the couch if something bad happened. Instead, he dropped into the easy chair, and, after one last glance at Chrissy to make sure she was okay, he drifted off.

That was the last time he saw her. Chrissy Cunningham disappeared the day of her eighteenth birthday. She went home in the small hours of the morning, packed a bag, kissed her little brother, and walked out of her house without a word to anyone. There was a search through the woods and fliers went up around town, but apparently that was all the police could do. She was an adult, and there was no sign that she had left against her will. People talked about it for a long time. They said she would end up murdered, a junkie, a whore. All three, most likely. She became a cautionary tale. Misbehaving girls were told that they were going to end up like Chrissy Cunningham. After a year, her family moved away. No one in town thought they would ever see her again.

No one except Eddie.

Eddie had slept restlessly while Chrissy was in his trailer. The night was full of sounds and movements that pulled him out of a deep sleep, but he never fully woke. The noises became part of his dreams At one point, he dreamed that Chrissy drew near, put her hand on his cheek, and kissed his mouth. She tasted like his toothpaste, which was an odd thing to dream, but he didn't want to wake up, so he kept his eyes closed.

When he really did wake up, Chrissy wasn't on the couch. She wasn't in the trailer. With a sinking feeling, he rushed to his hiding place. The box where he kept the ketamine was out, sitting in plain view. Cursing, he picked it up, and paused. It was heavier than he expected. He opened it, and found that the box was full. Chrissy had found it, but didn't take anything. That counted for something, he thought.

Still, Eddie worried. He spent hours imagining all of the worst things that might have happened, or might still be happening to Chrissy. But he could also imagine that Chrissy made it to wherever she wanted to go. Maybe she found a place where she could be happy, and safe. On his most optimistic days, Eddie imagined that someday, years from now, he would be playing in New York or L.A., or somewhere in between. Anywhere far away from Indiana. He'd be on a stage, and spot Chrissy in the audience. She would look different, but he would recognize her anyway, and she would recognize him, too. Eddie knew it was unlikely, but it was also possible. It was possible to meet her again anywhere, really. That was enough reason for Eddie to get out of Hawkins and try to make something of his life. Something better, something good.