Please note: This is the first chapter that contains explicit sexual content (NSFW).

Thank you and enjoy!

Chapter Ten

Chrissy Cunningham on his bed cross legged in her green and yellow ruffled cheer skirt was a sweet sight Eddie Munson had never expected to have the pleasure of seeing– and had she had not scared the ever-living Christ out of him by levitating in his living room, she would have been quite the sweet pleasure to see. He expected her to start rising at any moment, her arms and legs rippling like they were being torn from her body and blood dripping from the holes in her face in thin tendrils. He still had her blood dried on the edges of his fingers when he had wiped them from her face along with her tears. So when she asked if he had more music to keep the evil bad guy away, he sprung to action and began to search madly through his music collection for something the prep might like.

Eddie didn't want to see her like that again. He didn't want to see anyone like that ever again.

Hurriedly, he dug in his box of cassettes for something poppy and light-hearted. "Uh, you know, sweetheart," He cleared his throat. "I was really scraping the barrel with that ABBA album. I'm gonna guess most of my tunes aren't exactly your cup of tea."

She smiled sweetly, and he felt his jaw tighten like it seemed to do in response to her– that sour jawbreaker in the back of his mouth, puckering his lips. He licked them. "Try me," She said. "I like noise," and she smiled, shaking her hands over her ears like she was screwing volume knobs on the sides of her head.

He stood and stared at her for a moment, awe-struck. Who was this girl and what on Earth had she brought to him? She was a mystery Eddie had no clue how to begin to solve.

"Noise? Yeah, okay, you freak, I can give you some noise." He said with a grin, selecting a small cassette in a blue and red covered case that was more than halfway played through. He had remembered which track he had left on and had a feeling she would enjoy it. He gave the small tape case a flip in his hand, caught it mid-air, and then planted a soft kiss to its plastic face.

Eddie popped Dio's Holy Diver into the small boombox he kept in his room and the song Rainbow In The Dark continued from where it left off the last time Eddie had played the tape, just earlier that morning before the pep rally.

"Do your demons /

Do they ever let you go? /

When you've tried, do they hide deep inside? /

Is it someone that you know?"

Eddie grabbed a fistful of his dark hair and nervously covered the bottom half of his face with it. Through the curly mess, he peered at the preppy girl on his bed as she listened to his metal music. He felt like he was standing nude in front of her and not layered in his baggy clothing, vulnerable and shy; he felt exposed.

Quicker than he would have thought possible, she was bouncing to the beat, bopping her head slightly, her golden ponytail swaying to the intense sound of the strings and percussion of the song.

"There's no sign of the morning coming /

You've been left on your own /

Like a rainbow in the dark /

Just a rainbow in the dark."

"Rainbow?" Chrissy smiled brightly then, and began to look around Eddie's room, her eyes searching over his belongings. She looked comfortable as she gazed along the splintering edge of his ancient dresser with its peeling white paint, towered high with expired laundry long in need of washing. "I didn't think rock and roll would sing about rainbows…" When she made it to his guitar, he heard her gasp softly and she turned to look at him.

"Your guitar!" She beamed.

He felt a surge of pride and an arrogant, sloppy grin found its way to his thin mouth. "Well, yeah, this is where the magic happens," he ushered to his bed, where she sat. "Why wouldn't she be in here?"

Chrissy's cheeks flamed and he saw her shift and place her hands firmly between her legs. She sat up straighter, her chest slightly pushed out towards him. He thought she looked presented, and he liked that.

That sour-sweet taste ached at the back of his teeth.

Dio's album continued and Chrissy's foot continued to bop on as the music played. "You know," she said suddenly, surprising Eddie. "This music isn't so bad–"

"It's not bad, period," Eddie retorted simply with a quick look of disbelief to an imaginary audience.

"- it reminds me a lot of the marching band at school." She continued, still smiling, still dancing, still swaying along with the metal. It made Eddie ache deeply to see her dance to his music. His entire body surged with warmth. He sat down beside her, but kept space between them, careful not to overstep. He didn't want to frighten her, but he needed to be closer to her.

"You like that junk?" He asked, with a crinkle to his nose.

She laughed. "Weren't you in the school band?" Chrissy challenged, leaning slightly towards him, her eyes alit with mischief.

She looked so much calmer and more in control than he had seen her all day, so relaxed and warm– nothing like a girl who had just floated to an unbelievable height in his trailer and started profusely bleeding from her face.

This girl was going to give him emotional whiplash.

"Sure was," was all he could manage to think of saying. He had a hard time picturing her noticing him playing the trombone his few years he had had the grades to stay in the high school band. He hadn't been in the band since his first run as a senior, in 1984, but he was still shocked she had known that about his presence in the band, and his body continued to rise in temperature. He leaned closer to her, his weight giving out beneath the softness of the mattress and he fell closer to her.

A moment of silence fell between them as the cassette rolled over to the next track, and within the few seconds of silent delay, Chrissy had reached out to Eddie's hand and squeezed it tightly.

Her expression had grown somber.

"You saw my bag?" She nodded to the general direction outside of the bedroom, where her bag lay by the front door. "I wasn't going to go home tonight. I…I can't."

Eddie didn't know what to say, so he just watched, waiting for her to continue. He felt like a predator sitting close to a scared rabbit. He didn't want to frighten her away by any sudden movements.

"I had planned to come here and learn how to smoke and then…" She had begun to wring his hand within her own, the thin silver crescents of her fingernails gently tickling the skin on the back of his hand. "And then I was gonna head out. Out of Hawkins. Wherever." She shrugged. She wasn't looking Eddie in the eye, and she sounded quiet, meek, ashamed.

"Buuuuuut…?" Eddie coaxed, hearing the implied conjunction in her affliction.

"But," she said, finally. "The ticking is gone when you're here. When the noise is here," she motioned around herself, shaking her hands over her ears. "He can't get me. You saved me."

"From the flayed demon," Eddie clarified.

"Yes, the flayed demon," She sighed, and glanced cautiously over her shoulder, as if the monster were lurking around the corner, ready to strike.

"Right…" Eddie said. With a clear of his throat, he jumped up from the bed and paced the small section of his room. His Dio tape was getting close to ending. Some gears were turning in his head. "So, let me get this straight: you've been haunted by this Freddy Kreuger bastard for a bit now and you think me and my noise can keep him away?" Eddie gave a lilted laugh of disbelief and placed his hands behind his head. He exhaled sharply. "You were right, doll. This is absolute crazy shit."

As Chrissy's gaze fell from Eddie disappointingly to her hands, Eddie leaned over to his tape deck, ejected the cassette, and popped a fresh one in its place.

"Get ready to have your night rocked, Chrissy Cunningham." He stuck his tongue out, curled the tip lewdly at her, and pressed play on Van Halen's self-titled album.

"Yeah yeah /

Ah yeah /

I live my life like there's no tomorrow…"

The rest of the night went by far too fast for Eddie's opinion and he knew daybreak was approaching soon. Chrissy had excitedly listened to most of his mix tapes– a mess of playlists featuring hits from Kiss, Poison, Iron Maiden. She liked them all. She even liked the little bit of Black Sabbath he played for her– which really took him for surprise.

She was currently laying in his bed, snuggled deep in his unwashed, tattered sheets, and looking through a Dungeons and Dragons manual he had borrowed from Gareth a few days before. He could see her small foot bobbing to the beat of the current tape playing– his old copy of Praying Mantis's Time Tells No Lies. The glitter and mascara on her eyelids had begun to smudge beneath her eyes, staining them, dark crescents beneath her eyes that made the green in her eyes pop intensely.

She was such a sweet sight and Eddie loved to see her in his bed.

They had spent hours talking– about music, about school, about cheerleading and DnD. There hadn't been any lapses in conversations or awkward silences, and Eddie was surprised to see how interested she was to learn about his world. She asked about his friends, about Corroded Coffin and their shows at The Hideout.

It was almost five a.m. when Eddie had begun to really get comfortable.

He had shed his boots and sat cross legged beside the cheerleader in his full-sized bed, his knee barely an inch from hers. His vest was thrown carefully over his amp, and he had strung his long, black hair back into an elastic band. This was Eddie Munson– off stage. He was surprised he was letting Chrissy Cunningham of all people see him this way. He didn't even let booty calls see him with his hair tied back.

But he had gotten comfortable quickly around her, which was why he asked rather abruptly, "So, where's your boyfriend in all this? He doesn't care about the Flayed Man? Or do you just not like his noise?"

Chrissy squinted her eyes at the page of the book she was holding, like she was studying it really closely; she didn't answer. Maybe she hadn't heard him.

Eddie glanced anxiously around the room, inhaled air into his cheeks, and exhaled loudly. He was going to try to make a joke– something self-deprecating and off topic, a subject switcher. No harm, no foul. Let's move on.

But then Chrissy spoke, barely above a whisper. "No, he doesn't care about the Flayed Man." She had closed the book and was tracing the multi-headed hydra on the cover with the tip of her fingernail. "He doesn't care about anything that isn't Jason Michael Carver." She sighed and traced small circles on the red book cover.

Eddie couldn't imagine anyone not caring about Chrissy's fear– hallucination or not. She was so sweet, and so kind, and so pretty. Eddie had a hard time imagining not caring about anything she had to say. She was more interesting to him than the stars in space.

But then again, he was Eddie Munson, and she was dating Jason Carver.

Eddie remembered when Jason was a freshman, new to town after his father, Pastor Carver, had gotten his new job as reverend of Hawkins. Eddie had been a junior then, unflunked and only known for a few tussles behind the bleachers and skipping class in those days. Jason had arrived at Hawkins High full of pride, arrogance, and the complete assurance that he was going to become king of the school. He had paraded through the hottest girls of the school until he stuck the gold with Chrissy– head cheerleader, an affluent family, and a transcript loaded with reputable credentials– and they had been together ever since.

Eddie was– again– surprised by Chrissy Cunningham.

He had assumed that Chrissy and Jason were the perfect Mr. and Mrs. Hawkins the school all pegged them to be, but the mention of the word "boyfriend" had made her shoulders tense up and her head to fall down. She wasn't looking like someone who was happy in her relationship.

"Plus," she continued. "We're not exactly dating anymore…"

Eddie's ears perked up. Had he just heard her correctly? Chrissy was single? He wasn't exactly the most "in the know" person in Hawkins, Indiana, but he hadn't heard of any big breakup, and that was something everyone would have heard about.

Had she dumped her boyfriend and then come over to his house after the big game? Was Chrissy Cunningham single in Eddie Munson's bed at five in the morning, casually listening to his rock metal tapes? He felt electricity running through his legs, shooting up into his gut like a lightning rod. "Oh? Trouble in paradise?" He asked, trying to keep his tone light, unconcerned, detached.

"It's just," she shifted onto her knees, kneeling before Eddie, her bare feet on his pillow tops. "He's selfish, ya know? It's all," she deepended her voice, in imitation of Jason's charismatic speech. "'I got a full scholarship to IU,' and 'won't it be great when we're both at IU,' and 'Mr. and Mrs. Hawkins go Hoosier!'" Chrissy said loudly, throwing her arms up in a faux jovial outburst and rolled her eyes. With her hands hanging in the air, she let them pull her back, falling dramatically onto Eddie's pillows with a loud sigh. Eddie smiled; she reminded him of when he had launched himself off of the table, hours earlier. "He doesn't even know I haven't even applied…"

"What?" Eddie asked. "You haven't applied? Chrissy, we graduate in a little over a month." He gave a small laugh, unsure if he believed her..

She shook her head no, staring up at his ceiling blankly.

"Well, as shitty as Jason Carver is– and I will not pretend like I like Jason Carver even a little bit– but I think you'd be able to see him no matter what college you applied to, right?" Eddie asked, mostly out of courtesy. He found himself deeply hoping Chrissy would tell him there was no chance, that she was just looking for the easiest way away from her monster boyfriend.

She shook her head no again. "I didn't apply anywhere."

"Whaaaaat?" Eddie didn't believe her. She was the lead cheerleader, a notorious honor roll student. Her grades had to be good enough. "Not even to Berkley?" Eddie crossed his legs and inclined his head closer to her. When she sat up, she was looking straight at him.

Her face was gravely serious. "I don't want to go to college, and I don't want to date Jason. I left a note in his locker when school got out earlier today. He'll see it Monday. I told you," She swallowed hard. "I wasn't planning on going home, and I like your noise."

Chrissy's seafoam eyes were boring straight into Eddie's, bright opal reflections in a blushing face, and he felt his mouth moisten.

So, she was single– or soon to be, at least. She had broken up with Jason. She had come over to his house instead of his. She wanted to stay with him. The excitement Eddie felt made his cock twitch in his jeans. He had to bite back a groan, and he leaned forward, closer to Chrissy's face.

Her breath hitched and her eyes widened, shocked by Eddie's sudden closeness. His jaw tightened when her face flushed a deeper shade of pink, the blood creeping down her pale throat, and he could feel heat growing on her body and his own. "You gonna stay here in little ol' Hawkins with me, sweetheart?" He was close enough that her rapid breathing stirred the thin hairs curling around his face. "Does he know you're here now?"

Eddie watched as her tongue wetted her pink lips. His shaft twitched again, and he inhaled deeply. The scent of her breath was sweet, like sugar covered fruit, and his shaft grew erect, pressing painfully against his pants. He fought back another groan and breathed in her sweet scent.

"I–" Chrissy squeaked, placing her folded hands firmly in her lap. "I told you. I was going to run away… No one knows I'm here..."

Outside Eddie's window, he could see the sky growing a pale shade of blue– dawn breaking over the treetops surrounding Forest Hills Trailer Park. It was almost morning. With Chrissy in his bed, just barely two inches away from him and smelling thickly of sweet, feminine hormones, his morning wood had never felt firmer, and from the wide-eyed expression on her face, Eddie had been around enough women to know when they wanted him too, and he was confident Chrissy wanted him back. Her body was radiating warmth as she kneeled before him, a small arch in her back, presenting her perky breasts to him.

He was about to plant his mouth onto hers, eager and ready to explore the feel of her tongue, to taste her spit, when he saw the flash of red and blue lights breaking over the trees outside his window. The cops were pulling into the trailer park.

Eddie had about a minute and a half until they made it to his door.

"Oh, shit!" He shouted, leaping off of the bed and gathering to go back quickly. "We gotta go!"

"Huh?" Chrissy blinked, her skin flushed and clearly disoriented from the sudden shift of moods. She looked dazed in her arousal.

"What, does this look like a drill? The cops are here. C'mon, your highness, up, up! We gotta go!" He began to load up a bag with a couple shirts, a few flannels, and threw his vest over his shoulders. Hurriedly, he pushed his feet into his boots and didn't bother to lace them up.

"Why?" Chrissy asked. She was stumbling off of his bed and pulling her tennis shoes on rather slowly. "It's just some marijuana, right?"

Eddie looked up at the ceiling incredulously; a malevolent God must be cackling at him now. He ought to be flattered that Chrissy thought so innocently of him. "Yeah, sure, whatever, princess. Let's go! C'mon! C'mon! C'mon!" He scrambled to grab a few more essential items– his wallet, a piggy bank that was shaped like Chewbacca, a small silver cigarette case with rolled cannabis cigarettes, prepared and ready to go. "Get your bag and head out to my van. It should be open. I'll meet you out there."

Chrissy had finally seemed to grasp the severity of the situation, nodded, and began to move with some urgency. She moved quickly, her skirt kicking up as she hurried. Her black bloomers hugged her butt tightly, accentuating each individual cheek as its own prime cut. Under other circumstances, Eddie would have lustfully enjoyed seeing the view of her upskirt. Her thighs were strong; thin but toned. Eddie could kill a cop for cock blocking him this morning.

With a quick glance around the room, he did a mental checklist. He had grabbed enough to get by for a few days. He figured the cops didn't have a warrant yet and just wanted to heckle him or catch him in the middle of a deal. Or maybe someone had seen him do a deal earlier in the week, or maybe his uncle forgot to pay the mortgage bill.

Regardless of why the cops were here, Eddie figured leaving the trailer for the weekend would be enough time for things to calm down.

Plus, Chrissy had said she wanted to run away. The least he could do is figure out where she was planning to go and maybe help her get there.

He wasn't sure what it was about her that made him want to protect her, to get her to safety, to see her smile but the entire time Eddie had continued playing music for her, her eyes had not glazed over, she had not grown silent, she had not levitated in a deadly trance that made her face bleed and her limbs shake. He wasn't sure how much of the Flayed Man he believed in– or if he believed she truly was planning to run away and broke up with Jason– but he would do his best to keep her safe and grounded the best he could.

Someone must have seen him bring Chrissy into his trailer and called the cops. Why else would Chrissy Cunningham be at Eddie Munson's trailer through the night? Eddie's paranoia was running away with him.

Unsure how much he believed in Chrissy's narrative, but determined to keep her safe, Eddie grabbed his boombox and the tapes he had shared with Chrissy over the past night and ran out the door, to his van, to avoid the police force that wasn't coming for Eddie Munson, but to investigate the dead, mutilated body of Fred Benson, reported by Maxine Mayfield just ten minutes earlier.

She stood outside her mother's trailer with her arms crossed over her chest and her redhead watching after Eddie's van as it sped out of Forest Hill Trailer Park at a breakneck speed.