(April 2nd, 1986)
In the dream, Sadie stands at the edge of the woods surrounding the trailer park, the breeze rustling against her hair. The edges of her shirt. At the slightly overgrown grass tickling between her toes. Goosebumps prickle over her skin, but she doesn't pay them much attention. Instead, she focuses on the feel of a pair of arms around her waist. The tickle of someone else's hair against her cheek while a mouth moves against the skin of her neck.
"Eddie—"
"Mm?"
"You're distracting me."
She can feel Eddie's laugh against her skin as soon as she says the words, the complaint lacking any real sincerity at all. She shifts a bit, turning her head to attempt looking Eddie in the eye, but before she can manage that, his mouth is on hers. His hands are on either side of her face. And Sadie gives into the kiss with all she has, her arms moving around Eddie's neck to keep him close.
His hands drift down from her face to rest on her hips, instead, his fingers squeezing gently and provoking a soft moan in response. But then Eddie is pulling away, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth while his thumbs slip beneath the hem of her shirt to brush against her skin.
"You were saying?"
"I—you were—"
"I was what?"
"Dis—distracting me," Sadie stammers, allowing Eddie to pull her closer, while her hands fall to rest against his chest, the warmth of his skin through his shirt causing her breath to hitch in her throat, "Something tells me that was your goal."
"That depends."
"On what?"
"On whether or not you want me to keep going," Eddie teases, aware of the flush against the skin of Sadie's cheeks—of how her teeth are digging into her lower lip as she peeks up at him from beneath her eyelashes, and his heart nearly flips over inside his chest, "That's not a loaded question, by the way. If you don't—"
"I do."
"You—you do?"
"Just maybe—maybe not out here?"
As soon as Sadie says the words, she hopes Eddie will not take them the wrong way, because she knows how accustomed he is to people and their fear of being seen with him at all. But he doesn't seem to follow along that particular train of thought, much to her relief, his hold tightening just a bit on her hips while he ducks down to place his forehead against her own.
"Where to, then, milady? Five-star hotel? Vegas? The moon?"
"Vegas?"
"Is that your choice?"
"I've never—I've never been, so I wouldn't know," Sadie shrugs, closing her eyes as Eddie's fingertips continue to trace idle patterns against her skin beneath the fabric of her shirt, "I just know that—well—"
"What?"
"It's stupid."
"Sadie Carver, there is absolutely nothing you can say that would ever be stupid," Eddie assures her, pulling back just enough to get a better look at her expression, and removing a hand from her hip to brush a stray lock of hair away from her eyes, "Trust me, I would know. I've uh—said plenty of stupid shit in my lifetime."
"I was just—I was going to say isn't Vegas the place people go to elope?"
"Is this your way of trying to say you wanna elope with me?"
Eddie is grinning down at her and Sadie cannot help but hold his gaze, even with the burning in her cheeks. But just as she opens her mouth to attempt to reply, something changes. It's small, at first. So small she almost questions its existence. But it's there. The sudden loss of Eddie's smile. The tightening of his hold on her hips that almost borders on being painful.
Sadie tries to pull away, but she can't, something in Eddie's expression turning feral. Vengeful. And it terrifies her. It terrifies her because suddenly his grip on her is too strong for her to pull away.
She's stuck. Her skin prickles, because she can feel something else there with them, too.
And Sadie knows exactly what that something is, her heart thundering erratically against her ribs as any remaining familiarity in Eddie's features disappears in seconds flat.
"Your innocent act isn't fooling anyone, Sadie."
"Eddie—"
"Eddie is dead, you foolish girl. You killed him."
The words come out of Eddie's mouth but it is not his voice that says them. Not even close. And Sadie's blood chills in her veins because even though the voice isn't Eddie's, she knows it.
"He died trying to prove himself to you."
"No—"
"Trying to prove he was not a coward, and now you will never see him again."
"Stop," Sadie pleads, screwing her eyes shut and trying to back away, but the hands on her hips tighten so fiercely in response that she can feel sharp nails—far sharper than what is natural—piercing her skin, "Please—please, let me go."
"You will never be free, foolish girl. The time has come for you to accept your fate."
Sadie opens her eyes and almost immediately has to bite back a scream, because it is no longer Eddie who is standing in front of her at all. Instead, she is suddenly pinned in place by the claws of a monster with no face. A creature with rows of sharpened teeth lining the petals that push out from where eyes, a nose and a mouth should be.
She scrambles backwards, a blast of red light pushing outward from her palms, and the impact of her body colliding with the ground beneath her jolts her back into the waking world with a gasp.
It is always the same dream. Only the monsters change.
Releasing a sigh, Sadie pushes the covers away from her legs and swings them over the edge of the bed, a small jolt running through her as her bare toes connect with the chilly wood of the floor beneath her. But she almost savors that contrast, no matter how foolish it may seem, because it is proof that she is awake. That she is here, in the present, and no longer in the dream world that seems determined to plague her every step.
Sadie stands from the edge of the bed, and pads over to the window letting in a pale slip of moonlight, a frown marring her features as a dull ache echoes in the healing wounds at her sides. Her right arm is still in a cast, the thing cumbersome enough to try her patience at times. But she ignores it for the time-being, using her left hand to part the curtains, looking out at the small yard beyond.
She stiffens as she sees what appears to be a dark shadow at the edge of the trees lining the yard, and before she can fully reconcile herself with the action, Sadie is flinging the bedroom door open and hurrying down the hall to bolt out of the door in the den leading onto the porch…
Sadie is moving so quickly that she doesn't realize the sound of the screen door slapping open wakes the person sleeping sprawled on the sofa until footsteps pound down the porch steps after her, the sensation of a hand resting on her left arm causing her heart to stutter to a stop within her chest.
"Christ, Sadie, what the hell?"
She is staring at the spot where she could have sworn she saw that dark figure, but nothing is there now. And even as she feels her racing heart slowing to a more normal pace, Sadie still cannot shake the feeling that something is not right. That the house is being watched.
"I—I thought I saw—"
"Thought you saw what?" Steve asks, following the line of Sadie's gaze to the edge of the trees, his brow furrowing when he sees nothing of any consequence at all, "Sadie, there's nothing there."
"I know that, Steve."
"Then what—"
"It doesn't matter."
Sadie is aware of the obvious doubt in Steve's expression, but she ignores it, instead choosing to turn and head back toward the house. But before she can get very far, Steve is reaching for her unencumbered arm once again, a soft sigh leaving her as she turns back to look him in the eye.
"What?"
"Why aren't you sleeping?"
"Why does it matter?" Sadie quips, gently extricating her arm from Steve's hold, and forcing herself to hold his gaze even in spite of the sudden comprehension that seems to set into his expression, "You're awake."
"Yeah. Because someone decided to go barging out of the house in the middle of the night."
"And what made you decide to spend the night here?"
"Sadie," Steve begins, his tone giving her every reason to believe she should already know the answer. And she does. She knows why he is here. But she wants to hear him say it, no matter how foolish that desire may be, her lips thinning as she waits for him to go on, "If Wayne has the night shift, someone needs to stay here to—"
"To make sure I don't do anything stupid?"
"I didn't say that."
"You didn't have to," Sadie sighs, turning once again to head back toward the house, with Steve following along at her side, "I don't need a babysitter, you know."
"Not even one that's as freaking amazing as I am?"
"Steve—"
"Look, is it that awful that I'm—worried about you?" Steve questions, almost immediately aware that he has chosen the wrong words, though to her credit, Sadie does nothing more than offer him a small wince in response, "We all are."
"You don't have to be."
"Yeah, Sadie, I kinda think we do."
"Why?" Sadie demands, even though a part of her suspects she already knows the answer. Since her departure from the hospital, she has been rather carefully avoiding any significant amount of time spent in the company of their larger group as a whole, preferring to remain either on her own, or in smaller pairs if companionship is a must.
Somehow, spending prolonged amounts of time with those she had come to consider friends—family, even—makes everything she is trying to avoid that much more painful. More real.
Sadie knows it is hardly their intent, but everyone's careful insistence on checking in on her makes the reality of everything that has happened far too real for her to bear…
Sometimes, she wants nothing more than an escape from that reality, but she knows that is something she will probably never have again.
"Vincent says you still won't see him."
"That is what you are worried about?"
"Sadie—"
"And here I thought you didn't like him."
"I don't," Steve admits, slowing to a stop as Sadie moves to sit on the edge of the porch, his taller frame folding down to sit beside her, "But he can help."
"With what?"
"You know what."
Sadie frowns because she knows Steve is right. She knows exactly what he is referring to, whether she cares to admit it or not. Another part of the reason she avoids being around too many of their friends at one time is to avoid the inevitable risk of exposing the difficulties she has been experiencing since leaving the hospital. Difficulties controlling abilities she can still hardly understand.
Steve is right. Vincent could help. But she can't face him. Not after what he did that night. Not after she had begged him to save Eddie, and he had turned away…
"I'm—I'll figure it out."
"By staying away from everyone?" Steve persists, watching as Sadie shifts a bit, clearly trying to place as much distance between them as she can, despite the small size of the porch step, "Because I feel like that's probably making everything worse."
"It's better than risking hurting them."
"You haven't hurt me."
"Dumb luck," Sadie says, favoring Steve with a significant look, and noting how his mouth seems to twitch at the corner before going on, "And because I can't seem to convince you to stay away."
"Nance would say it's because I used to—"
"Crawl backwards, until you thumped your head falling down the stairs. I know."
Sadie manages a weak smile in response to Steve's laughter and the pressure of his arm bumping against her own, a shiver causing goosebumps to rise against her skin as a cool gust of air blows their way. She brings her feet up to rest on the step beneath her, looping her uninjured arm around her knees to ward off some of the chill. But as much as she appreciates Steve's presence, there is still a part of her that recoils from it, guilt mingling with the lingering apprehension she feels over what may happen if she slips.
If she allows even the smallest of cracks in the wall she is keeping around her emotions, Sadie cannot be entirely sure what will happen, and she refuses to have any of her friends caught in the crossfire when she inevitably fails.
"When Wayne gets back in the morning, you should go."
"Sadie—"
"You should go, Steve. I'll be with everyone at the hospital with Max later anyway."
Steve wants to protest, but he doesn't, knowing that Sadie is already stretched thin enough as it is. She is already standing. Already moving to head back inside. And Steve moves to follow, still not saying a word, a part of him wondering where he went wrong. What he missed, or what else he can do to fix this. But he knows, already, that there is nothing. Absolutely nothing he can do that will truly bring Sadie back to who she used to be.
The only one that can do that is someone that no longer exists. And, not for the first time, Steve is starting to wonder how much more any of them are going to be expected to lose—to survive—before this is all over.
He wonders who all of them will be, when all is said and done, because a part of him is already dreading the idea that absolutely none of them will ever be the same again.
…
Hello, my darlings! And welcome to the first chapter in the sequel to The Cheerleader and The Freak! I am so, so excited to start rolling out new chapters (because even though I thought I had the first few chapters already written, complete with a time jump, apparently the muses decided nope, we need to see some scenes of the group immediately after the gates open in Hawkins, first). I hope none of you mind that particular decision too much, because as per usual, I promise, the fun is only just getting started!
My heartfelt thanks go out to each and every one of you that has taken the time to read this introductory chapter, as well as the original tale for Sadie and Eddie as well! I appreciate all of you so, so very much, and I would be nowhere without your kindness and support! So this is me hoping you all enjoy this story every bit as much as the one preceding it!
Until next time, my loves…
MOMM