Chapter 1: There Is a Light That Never Goes Out (The Smiths)
The clock flips to 11:52 when Chrissy kills the engine of the station wagon. She knows it's late, it's really late, to be making house calls, but the nightmares won't stop and her school counselor's advice doesn't help. Deep, calming breaths don't help when she wakes up in a cold sweat, jerking away from the slimy hand attempting to strangle her. She can barely remember to breathe at all in those first moments after waking, chest hammering and lungs on fire.
So, no, deep breathing had been out of the question tonight. Instead, she had slunk out of her room, past her parents' door, tiptoeing down the stairs until she had reached the cabinet by the front door. Her mother's car keys were just sitting there, easy to swipe up and pocket. With a quiet snick, Chrissy had closed the door behind her and bolted to the car. It was chilly, but her flannel pajamas (blue/green tartan that she and her parents had worn for a heinous Christmas photo two years ago) kept her warm enough. She didn't flick on the headlights until she was safely out of the cul-de-sac. She didn't really need them; the night was clear, the moon bathing everything in silvery light.
Thinking back on it, Chrissy didn't actually intend to wind up where she is now, parked in front of Eddie Munson's rundown trailer, beside his hulking white van. No, she had simply wanted to get out - out, out, out, away from her bedroom and her house and her life that couldn't seem to stop producing nightmares - with no particular destination in mind. But it seemed her subconscious self had different ideas, and so here she sat. Outside the home of a boy she barely knew. But who'd been kind enough not to treat her like she was insane when she'd admitted that day in the woods that she felt like she was losing her mind. A boy who'd taken her back to his place and let her smoke some weed - at no cost, with no judgment - just to get a bit of peace and relaxation. She wondered if he'd be that kind again, despite her showing up unannounced at nearly midnight. But she could see the light in his room was still on. So he must be awake, right?
Chrissy shuffles to the porch and taps twice on the screen door. She glances at the window where the light is still on. There's no movement behind the shades.
She pauses. Maybe Eddie hadn't heard her? Her father was always saying how she needed to have a louder presence in life. She huffs a breath at the memory of that somewhat-insulting remark and reaches up again to knock twice, firmly, on the door.
That seems to work. Her peripheral vision catches sight of a shadow moving beyond the shade. A pause, and then suddenly the little porch in front of the trailer illuminates with the hazy glow of a flood light next to the front door. At the same time, she hears a voice yell out from the inside of the trailer.
"Uh, it's a little late in the evening for a rousing discussion about Christ our savior, dudes," Eddie intones.
She ducks her head a little and giggles. Did the Munsons usually get missionaries coming late at night?
"Um, I'm not a missionary… It's Chrissy… Cunningham?" she lamely adds her last name when there's no immediate response.
After an awkward pause, Chrissy hears Eddie unlatch a series of locks from the door. Then it swings open to reveal a very confused, somewhat sleepy-looking Eddie Munson. He blinks once, as if to make sure his eyesight hasn't gone to shit.
"Cunningham…? Sorry, I don't usually do deals at this hour. I run a respectable business, you know," he smirks, cracking jokes even amid the weirdness of Chrissy showing up in pajamas in the middle of the night.
Chrissy blushes. "Oh…oh, I didn't come for any drugs…I just showed up here because…" she trails off, looking down at her feet. You showed up because why, Chrissy? Did you actually have a reason? She berates herself for the awkwardness of the entire situation.
She looks up. Eddie is still waiting for a response, looking mildly confused but also apprehensive. "Everything okay with you?" he asks cautiously.
Chrissy blinks. "Yes! Yeah, of course, sorry… it's just…" she pauses again and bites her lip, looking anywhere but at his face.
But before overthinking it (which she's prone to doing), she looks him straight in the eye and blurts out the truth. "I can't sleep. At all, really. I keep having nightmares, and I don't feel okay in my home, and I just… I felt okay here, that other night, when we hung out. And I guess… I just wanted… to feel okay again, for a little bit…" she whispers the last bit, so she's not sure if Eddie even hears it.
She keeps her eyes trained on his face. She can see the wariness evaporate, replaced by a gentle smile. He nods, says "Yeah, sure, of course," and then unlatches the screen door. Holds it open for her with one arm as she exhales deeply and walks inside.
The trailer is small and smells a little like weed and a little like fresh laundry. It's heavenly to her, the exact opposite of her large perfumed house where the nightmares live. Chrissy's shoulders droop a bit in relief.
Eddie fastens the locks on the door once more and then turns to face her, knitting his fingers and bouncing one leg. She had noticed his restlessness in the woods, too, how he was always in motion. As though to be still was to be dead. She really liked that about Eddie. He was sort of the opposite of every bit of manners-and-decorum lecture Chrissy's mother recited to her growing up.
"So…uh… what did you wanna do? Are you… thirsty? Hungry? I've got like…" he whirls around to face the little kitchen and purses his lips. "Cheese puffs… and Maxwell House instant and… Mountain Dew?" he ends the menu listing in a question.
Chrissy lets out a low giggle and shakes her head. "No, I'm fine. Really. I don't mean to interrupt your night. Go back to doing whatever it was that you were doing. I'm sorry… I know this must be super weird…"
"S'not so weird," Eddie shrugs. "Or if it is, I guess I don't mind," he finishes with a smile, then gestures back to his room."I was sketching out plans for a new Dungeons & Dragons campaign I thought of and dozed off. You're welcome to, uhh, come hang out… if you want."
She gives him a grateful smile and nods. "I'd really like that actually, thanks."
Chrissy follows him back to his room. It looks exactly the same as the last time she saw it, a couple weeks ago. Except maybe the piles of clothes (clean? dirty?) have moved around a bit. She sits cross-legged on his bed after he shuffles a blanket around and attempts to make her a decent place to sit. Satisfied, he takes up his station at the little desk across from her, where she can see tons of loose paper, pencils and pens, and a large book entitled DUNGEON MASTER'S GUIDE. She points to the clutter when he sits down.
"So… tell me about it? Your 'campaign' idea?" she asks, to his seeming surprise.
"You want to hear about Dungeons & Dragons?" he asks.
"Yeah, I do. I mean, it looks like you're putting a lot of work into it, and I know nothing about it…so…" she trails off.
He gives her a huge grin, teeth shining in the yellow light of his bedroom lamp. "Okay, well you asked for it."
And then, just like that, he switches into what she later learns is Eddie's dungeon master mode. "So, we open in a tavern just outside of the Bramblewood Forest…"
Chrissy listens in rapture for the next hour as Eddie expertly describes the storyline he's hoping his players will follow in his next campaign. He doesn't stop talking, even when it's 2:30 in the morning, even as she's curled up in the middle of his bed, even as her eyes are growing increasingly heavy. Eddie keeps telling her stories, lulling her to sleep, allowing her to rest for what he probably thinks is the first time in a long time.
The last thing Chrissy hears is his story about an elf rogue rescuing a half-elf bard from an eternity of performing in some miserable theater. Something about the story felt vaguely familiar, but she couldn't place it before drifting to sleep.
Peaceful, no-nightmares, sleep.