Chapter 1: Sweet Dreams

The air was cold and still. Something was different. Everything felt like it was out of place, yet nothing had moved. When I looked around, all I could see was my bedroom, covered in some kind of black sludge, thick dust and debris floating around me. I had to be imagining this. I had always been a lucid dreamer. Surely this wasn't real. I blinked my eyes a few times, hoping that this was all a fever dream and I just needed to wipe the sleep off of my face. Still, nothing changed. When I looked down at my hands, I counted each finger. It was a trick that my uncle had taught me when I was a kid and suffered from night terrors every week. In a nightmare, nothing is ever as it seems. Everyday things no longer make sense, such as the amount of fingers on your hands. One, two, three, four, five. Five on my left hand. One, two, three, four, five. Five on my right hand. I wasn't dreaming.

A chill ran up my spine at the realization. I opened my mouth to call for my uncle, but nothing came out no matter how loud I screamed. I wanted to crawl back into my bed and go back to sleep, but I couldn't help but panic. Something bad was definitely happening, and I didn't know where my uncle was. Everything felt so off. Something was wrong. My hands began to shake as I rose from my bed, wrapping my blankets around my head as if they were going to protect me from anything. Every fiber of my being was screaming at me to hide, and I would've been all than happy to once I knew my uncle was okay. Still, everything was silent. I opened my mouth. Silent. Even the old, creaky floorboards in my bedroom didn't dare make a noise, yet I could feel everything.

I felt the vibrations from the other side of the walls. I felt the soft ticking coming from the grandfather clock just outside my bedroom door. I felt myself screaming, and I felt the desperation in the air. I couldn't find my uncle. Something was definitely wrong. Definitely. When I felt the atmosphere shift, I knew it was time to hide. I couldn't explain it, but I heard the silence of something coming for me. The noise was echoing through the nerves in my body, but still, the world was silent. The pacing of whatever was coming after me grew quicker and quicker until I was swinging around the hallway to my bedroom, dodging every bit of sludge that I could and catching my arm hard enough off my nightstand to draw a thin line of blood. I wrapped myself in my sheets as tightly as I could, doing my best to stay quiet, which didn't prove to be very hard in a world with no noise. Still, I felt it. The lights in my room began to flicker as the blood in my body started beating harder than a marching band until the entire house began to surge. I let out a scream at what I saw.

The walls around me collapsed as the most terrifying creature I had ever seen zeroed in on me. It had a head with no face, its limbs branching out like that of a poisonous spider, towering over me with claws bigger than half of my body. Its legs bent upwards as if it were resting on it's the razor blades at the end of each limb, a thick layer of black sludge pooling off of its body. I cowered underneath my pillows as its claws ripped through each layer one by one until we were face to face. Before I could realize what I was seeing, my bedroom lights surged one more time just as the creature began to drag its claw down the side of my arm. My body seared with pain until my entire vision erupted into a white, blinding light, and it was over.

I woke up screaming in a puddle of sweat, my uncle rushing in as soon as my eyes were open, an apron wrapped around his waist. When he reached out to comfort me, I naturally cowered away. What I had seen felt so real that it was impossible to know which was the real world. For all I knew, I could've just passed out, and the monster was still out there searching for me.

"Daisy," I heard my uncle call out, still trying to reach out for me. "Daisy, it's okay. It was just a dream. You're okay." Still, I couldn't shake the feeling of complete terror from my body. "It was just a dream," he repeated. "Look, I'm here. You're okay."

Once I let him rest a hand on my back, I felt a cool wave of relief come over me as I realized I was back in reality. What I had seen wasn't real. It was just a nightmare. There was nothing coming for me. I let out a sigh as my uncle began to comfort me, rubbing my back to soothe my terrified body. "I'm sorry," I said, surprised to hear the sound of my own voice after complete silence. "I just had a nightmare. I didn't mean to freak out like that."

Uncle Jack continued to rub my back, offering me a gentle smile when I finally met his eye. "Hey, it's okay. I know how real they feel sometimes." I nodded my head, as if I could agree that he knew what I was feeling. Still, I didn't believe that he had ever felt anything so real. It was one thing to be told what happened, and another to experience it yourself. I had struggled with nightmares my entire life and still had never had a dream so vivid that I remembered every detail after waking up. "I'm going to finish making breakfast. Come on out whenever you're ready, okay?"

"Okay," I said, my voice still hoarse from waking up.

He gave me another smile, this one full of sympathy and worry, though I could tell he was trying to hide it, before getting up and vanishing back down the hallway. I took in a deep breath, as if that was going to make me feel any better. I scanned through every inch of my bedroom, making sure everything was as it should be. I knew I was definitely dreaming earlier, but it still comforted me to know that it was over now. There was no more black sludge, no more monster, and no more of that deafening silence. The only thing that seemed even slightly out of place was my nightstand, which now sat at a slight angle. I slowly ran my hand against the corner that I had scraped my arm against before raising my other hand to move it back into place. When I looked down, I saw a thin, fresh cut that matched the same one I had seen in my dream. I must've scraped my arm in the real world and managed to dream about it at the same time.

At least it was over now, and I could focus on the real nightmare, high school. I sighed to myself at just the thought of it. I hated high school and everything that came with it. Ever since the word got out that my parents had left town and gotten themselves arrested last year, nobody had been able to stop talking about it the moment I entered a room. Combine that with my constant night terrors and insomnia, and I was easily one of the biggest freaks at Hawkins High. The only friend I had managed to make was Jonathan Byers, and I'm still not sure he counts as a high school friend. Sure, we were only a few months apart and had a good amount of classes together, but we didn't become friends through school. Throughout most of our childhood, Uncle Jack had been in an on and off relationship with our neighbor and Jonathan's mom, Joyce Byers, and since Jonathan and I were roughly the same age, that meant we spent our early years growing up together. Aside from Uncle Jack, he was the only person that had managed to be there for me no matter what, and he was easily my best friend.

Eventually, I was able to crawl out of my bed and start my day. I grabbed some clothes out of my closet, a pair of jeans and an old t-shirt that I had had since middle school, and headed towards the bathroom to wash the sweat off of my body. Once the cool water hit my skin, I could feel myself starting to wake up and rinse off the memory of what I had seen in my sleep last night. I had always enjoyed cold, morning showers for that exact reason. After struggling with nightmares for years, it had become one of my coping strategies. Something about the shock of the freezing temperature on bare skin made it easier to jump back into reality. Washing my hair felt like some kind of metaphor for ridding myself of all the awful memories that technically weren't actually memories.

When I looked in the mirror, it felt like my face had aged at least a decade, even if nothing actually looked any different. My bright, blue eyes now looked like they were sagging into my skull, while my dripping, deep chestnut hair clung to the sides of my pasty white skin, which now seemed even more pale, if that was possible. My face looked as if it were sagging, contorting itself as if it too were trying to escape from all of the constant nightmares, especially the one from last night. I blinked a few times, hoping that a switch would flip in my brain and I'd instantly feel better. It never came though. My skin did eventually smooth itself out so I looked sixteen again instead of sixty, but that dreadful feeling never went away. Still, I was able to make myself presentable enough for high school and even spare enough time to sit with my uncle in the kitchen.

"Good morning, Daisy Mae," my uncle chimed from the other side of the kitchen table like the early bird he had always been. "Somebody hasn't been to the store lately, so today's menu consists of toast and scrambled eggs." He paused and looked at the plates in front of him for a split second before adding, "Very scrambled eggs."

I smiled at him, hoping that I looked normal. The last thing I needed was my uncle worrying and hovering over me for the next week. "Good thing I like my eggs extra scrambled," I told him as I started making myself a plate.

Uncle Jack was never much for cooking, but at least he tried. That was even more evident in the mornings that he wanted to surprise me with breakfast, which was almost every day, despite how special of an occasion he treated it as. I still appreciated him though, and I ate every meal he made for me, even the ones that tasted like they had been made in a nursing home cafeteria. "They need more milk, don't they" he asked when I paused in the middle of my first bite of eggs.

I squinted the side of my face. "Maybe a little bit," I laughed, "it's good though."

He smiled, but I knew he could see me lying straight through my teeth anyway. "So what's the plan for today," he asked, changing the subject.

I shrugged and continued eating. "I have a math test today, but that class is so easy anyway. I'm not even worried about it. That's really the only exciting thing that's going on today."

"Well, I'll probably get home pretty late tonight. It's supposed to be a big day. We've got a whole group of college students coming to the lab today. Someone's got to make sure they don't touch anything, and I drew the short end of the stick."

"Weren't you one of those college students back in the day?"

"Absolutely not," he replied, a little too quickly.

We met eyes for a second before he busted out in a laugh. I smirked and shook my head back at him as I finished up my breakfast. "Whatever you say."

Back in the day, Uncle Jack was a force to be reckoned with. Hell, even in his thirties, he was still a force to be reckoned with, but maybe not quite in the way that everyone would think. Ever since I was a toddler, Uncle Jack was always doing something outside. He loved being in the sun and feeling the cool breeze on a hot day, but most importantly, he loved plants. Of course, he loved many other things too, such as fishing and hiking, but gardening seemed to hold a special place in his heart. Whether it was growing flowers, vegetables, fruits, or anything else that you could stick in the ground, he was a master at it. Walking into my backyard felt like entering a whole new world with how amazing he had made it look in just a few years. Naturally, plants were how he made a living. I remember all of the experiments he would do with them throughout my childhood, from studying how they would react in certain circumstances to combining whatever he felt fit until he was able to make something grow. He was amazing at it, so it made sense that that was what he spent his entire twenties studying, from studying at a local community college to receiving his master's degree, all while raising me, with a little help from Joyce Byers, of course.

"I think I'm gonna head over to the Byers' house. Jonathan's probably wondering what's taking me so long."

"Okay," Uncle Jack said as I started to grab my things and head towards the door. "Be home by ten."

"Got it," I called from the front door, my backpack now slung over my shoulder. "Love you."

"Love you too," he hollered back, cut off by the sound of the door shutting.

When I stepped out the front door, I noticed a chill run down my spine, but I shook it off as the changing weather, as the sky was looking much darker this morning than it usually did, but it couldn't have been anything more than a storm brewing. Since the Byers' house was right next door to mine, the walk over there was only a couple steps long anyway. Our houses were so close together that I could see their front porch from my bedroom window, though I hadn't tried looking out it since my uncle extended his garden in front of it. I didn't ever need to anyway, because most of my free time was spent there regardless. It felt like my second home, and being there made me feel like I was a part of their family, which was something I had never quite had. Obviously, I had my uncle, and I have no idea where I'd be if I didn't, but it was always just the two of us. My parents were always strung out on whichever drug they had gotten their hands on at the time, so they were in and out of my life more times than I could count. I never got to have a stable family with parents or any siblings, so the Byers house felt like the missing puzzle piece.

The house was bustling with movement when I walked in, from Jonathan moving around the kitchen with pots and pans in his hands, to Joyce frantically rushing around the room in her work uniform. Jonathan was the first one to notice me, greeting me with a soft and warm, "Hey."

"Hey," I replied. "You guys look busy this morning."

"Mom lost her keys again," he said.

As if on cue, Joyce rushed into the kitchen, looking sporadic and as if she had lost all control of her life. "Oh, good morning, Daisy," she greeted, giving me a quick smile before turning into the living room to continue searching with a loud, "Where the hell are they?"

"Check the couch," Jonathan hollered from beside me, giving me a side eyed look as we smirked at his mom's frantic, but typical, searching efforts.

"Thank god," she finally praised, rushing back towards the kitchen before stopping to kiss Jonathan's cheek on her way out the door, keys in hand. "Wait," she then said, pausing right in her tracks and turning back around. "Where's Will?"

Jonathan shrugged. "Sleeping, I guess."

"You have to make sure he's up, Jonathan," she started to chastise. "How many times have I—"

"I'm making breakfast," he interjected.

Joyce shook her head at him, and I could tell she was starting to panic even more. "I can wake him up," I offered, hoping it'd calm her down just a little bit.

"Please."

I met eyes with Jonathan for a second before hurrying past him and into the hallway that connected all of their rooms. When I reached Will's door, I felt something cold wash over me. I couldn't tell what it was, but it felt a lot like the nightmare I had had. It was the same kind of fear, even though I knew nothing was wrong. I looked around for a second, half expecting to see that black goo all over the place, but there was nothing. Still, the doorknob felt ice cold as I wrapped my hand around it, so much so that I nearly jumped the second it brushed against my skin. I sucked in a breath as I pushed the door open, excited to see the boyish little nerd that I loved so much on the other side. But the room was empty.

"Will," I said, hoping that maybe he was just pulling a fast one on me and would jump out at any second. A few moments passed, and nothing happened. I searched around the room, pulling up the covers on his bed and opening up his closet doors. It was like he had vanished or something. "Will," I said again. Still nothing. And holy shit was his room freezing. It felt like someone had just dumped me into an ice box.

I turned around to go back into the kitchen, but as I did, I could've sworn I saw the lamp in the corner flicker. When I turned my head again though, nothing had changed. The lights were off, and the only visible light in the room was coming from the windows. I shook my head in an attempt to clear out all of these ridiculous, ominous feelings that I had been having for absolutely no reason. "He's not in there," I said once I was in Joyce's hearing range again.

"What," he started panicking. "What do you mean he's not in there?" She turned to look at Jonathan, expecting him to know what was going on. "He came home last night, didn't he?"

Jonathan, now starting to look a little bit worried, looked over at me with puzzled eyes. "He's not in his room?"

Joyce stepped in front of him, cutting off his gaze. "Did he come home or not?"

He started stammering. "I—I don't know—"

"You don't know?"

"I got home late. I was working—"

"You were working?!"

"Eric asked if I could cover for him, and I said yes. I figured we could use the extra money."

Joyce shot daggers at him with her eyes before turning around and brushing past me, making a beeline to Will's room with Jonathan right behind her. "We talked about this," she started saying. "I've told you not to take shifts on the nights that I'm working. I specifically told you—"

"He was at the Wheelers' all day. He probably just stayed over," he said.

"I cannot believe you."

"I'm sorry," Jonathan started to say, but Joyce had already cut him off.

She was going straight for the phone as she kept repeating, "I can't believe this. I cannot believe this."

When she was out of earshot and busy presumably calling one of Will's friends, I leaned over to Jonathan. "Are you covering for him, or is he really not here?"

"He's really not here," he replied, his eyes slowly panning over from his mom to me, fear written all over his face. "I—I don't know where he is."

I instinctively grabbed his hand, just like he had always done for me when we were kids. "Hey, it's okay," I told him, giving his hand a light squeeze. "Wherever he snuck off to, I know you'll find him."