A/N: I just want to give a trigger warning for those sensitive to scenes involving eating disorders. And body horror. Personally, I'm not always a huge fan of warnings since they often spoil things, but I understand their importance. As someone who struggled with an ED for well over a decade, I know it can be difficult reading about it. It was pretty hard just writing it. These chapters play out like a movie in my weird little brain and I just go along for the ride. There's no going off script lol. Anyway, thanks for reading and leaving reviews!

"C'mon… Spill it."

"No way! You're just going to make fun of me." She's sure of it. A guy like him—whose life revolves around it—probably has very specific tastes and it's not whatever Billboard's pushing. Someone who's been extremely vocal in his distaste for anything mainstream. Getting called a little sheep right now might ruin the mood.

A chilly breeze rushes by and sends a slight shiver throughout her body. The weather's not nearly as bad as it has been recently. That's a plus. And the trees surrounding the clearing block the worst of it. This is a pretty pleasant day, for the most part.

Moving her head against the pink bookbag she's using as a pillow, Chrissy stares at the guy across from her. He must run hot. Last time they came here, he took his vest and jacket off as well. Now he's using them to prop his head up on the bench.

"I won't. Promise. I'm not like those assholes in band who think they're the authority on good music." Taking another hit, Eddie stretches his long arm out under the picnic table to hand the joint to her.

Now thinking about it, he never leaves the band kids out of his rants in school. She would've thought they'd get along, seeing as they all have something in common.

'I wonder if they insulted his taste in music?'

"Fine, but you better keep your word."

"I swear. Cross my heart." A ringed finger draws a cross over his chest, but she notices it's upside down. The last line's far too close to the bottom. Cheeky guy.

"Okay… Billy Joel, first and foremost." She emphasizes, looking up toward the sky to gather a decent list. There's no specific order for the rest, but she still puts a little more thought into it than necessary. "Fleetwood Mac, ABBA, Prince, Queen, Bowie, Hall & Oates, The Mamas and the Papas, Culture Club… Bananarama, Lionel Richie, a couple of Madonna songs… That's, um, just off the top of my head."

Eddie stares at her for a moment before his lips slip into a smirk. "Okay, I lied. I'm totally gonna judge you."

"You jerk!" Her face turns a bright shade of red as she leans over the side of the bench, grabbing a handful of leaves and tossing them at him. He just finds that even more amusing.

The cheer captain can't remember the last time she smiled or laughed this much. Except for when they hung out before. It's strange. Despite getting flustered here and there, it still feels easier to let go a little. Perhaps it's just the weed. But it's a nice experience. One she doesn't want to end.

"Just kiddin'. I definitely had you pegged as an ABBA fan, though. Call it musician's intuition." Seeing that little shit-eating grin on his face makes her want to throw more leaves at him. Maybe some twigs, too. At the same time, it's kind of charming. That shouldn't be a thought running through her mind…

'Stop that!'

"Is that good or bad?" She takes a hit and tries holding it in, making her eyes water up. So harsh. Handing it back quickly, it's mind-boggling how easy it is for him. How does he smoke this all the time like it's nothing?

"Neither, really. It's what you like. That's all that matters. Who gives a damn what other people think? Do what makes you happy. Even if that means listening to Madonna." He chuckles, rolling onto his side to face her. Leaning on the crook of his elbow and letting his hand hang over the side.

Laying like that gives her a good view of the tattoo on his right forearm. A hand with strings attached to some little monster. Like a puppet. The bats she's seen before. And last time they were out here, he gave her a small peek at the one on his chest. How many does he have? Another thing to be curious about.

Sighing, she turns her gaze back to the sky. Focusing on the wisps of clouds floating by. "True. Unfortunately, that's not something I'm really good at… Not giving a damn, I mean."

"You're getting there. Slowly but surely. After all, someone who cares what others think wouldn't be hanging out with the town 'freak', as they so lovingly call me." Even saying that, there's no bitterness in his voice. It doesn't seem to bother him. If anything, he must've already accepted that a while ago. Embraced the label. No one can weaponize it against him if he openly owns it.

Eddie leans forward to pass it back, letting his fingers linger on hers for a few moments too long. Grazing them. The cool metal of his rings touches her skin, making the cheerleader gasp. She tries to focus on the joint and not think too much of it. That doesn't stop the rest of her from reacting.

Chrissy swallows hard, attempting to ignore the hammering in her chest. His fingers are rough. Callused. Probably from years of playing the guitar. Very different from Jason's hands. It's like night and day. Despite the chilly February air, she's too warm now. Smoking this stuff is making her sweat.

"I like hanging out with you." It's soft but he hears it. She knows he can. And it's the truth. There's really no one else that can make her forget everything, even for just a little while. Being around him is like taking a breather. A much-needed break. That's more apparent with each meeting.

"Same here." He sharply exhales, tapping his shoes together.

Taking another hit, she slowly lets the smoke pass through her lips. Watching as it pours into the cold air and dances upward. It's surprisingly beautiful to see. A sight she never imagined finding interest in. Then again, it seems like the cheerleader is finding out all kinds of new things about herself recently.

"So, what are you plannin' on doing after you're finally done with this hellhole?"

'Oh, he means after graduation.'

"Well, uh…" After having this conversation so many times before, Chrissy's not thrilled to be going down this road again. Granted, it's different if he asks. She still sighs and lays her head back. "The plan's been to go to IU Bloomington with Jason. For accounting or marketing. Not sure yet. Nothing's official, but I have to make a decision soon. I'm really cutting it close."

"Whose plan?"

"What?" The question takes her off guard. What's that supposed to mean? Shifting, she mirrors his position to observe him.

"Whose plan is that?" Eddie enunciates each word slowly so there's no misunderstanding. Her eyes widen, lips parting to respond but nothing comes out. The answer is obvious. Ever since freshman year, the Carvers and her parents tried pushing them together. It only seemed natural, taking both families and their history into consideration. "I might be a little buzzed, but I'm pretty sure I asked what are you planning?"

'What am I planning?'

Such a simple question… Yet it's not. Biting her lip, she tears her gaze away from him and aims it toward the ground, focusing on some dead leaves. Even without looking, she can feel those dark eyes staring intently. Waiting. He could've just accepted the initial answer and moved on but that wasn't good enough. It feels like he's trying to make a point.

"I… I don't know." Chrissy whispers, reaching up to clutch the '86 hanging from her necklace. No one really laid out options to choose from. Going along with the plan just seemed to be the path of least conflict. Everyone would be satisfied. Her parents were the ones with all the cards in their hands. Without them, she has nothing. No money, no home, no family, no opportunities, no choice.

"Huh. Is there anything that gets you excited? You know, gets your blood pumpin' just from thinking about it? Some big dream you always wanted to accomplish?" He blows out a long stream of smoke, putting out the joint. It's too short to keep hitting. A few moments go by in silence while she lays back, thinking it over. "I mean, it's not the end of the world if you don't know yet. There's still time to dabble and figure out what you like."

'Gets me excited?'

"I used to… That was a while ago. When I was younger, I bugged my mom into taking me to dance classes every week. The drive was a little over forty-five minutes each way since there isn't a studio in Hawkins… But, I loved it. That was all I looked forward to. There was always something new to learn. So many styles to choose from. My teacher was the sweetest person and so talented. I wanted to be like her." Looking up at the leaves swaying in the breeze, her eyes soften and a smile spreads across her lips.

It's been so long since thinking about those times. Before things got out of hand and took a turn for the worst. Packing it away seemed like the best choice. She can't be disappointed when it doesn't happen if there are no expectations it was even a possibility.

"Right before middle school, I guess it just became too much of a pain in the butt, so my mom got me to just focus on cheerleading. For the longest time, though… I wanted to have one of my own. A dance studio. Maybe open up the first in the area."

Realizing that she's rambling and revealing too much, Chrissy gasps. Too much. Way too much. Turning towards Eddie, a tidal wave of embarrassment washes over her from seeing the wide smile on his face. Like the one he had last time they were here, when she asked if he ever felt like he was losing his mind.

"Oh my God! I must be high." She cries, shielding her reddened face with both hands. That's not enough. If only there was a way to turn invisible. Her feet kick, smacking against the picnic table bench like a kid throwing a tantrum.

Looking at him is making it so much worse. That expression… As if he's actually enjoying listening to this nonsense. "No, no. That's a good dream. You should do it! Go on, bring dancing to this shitty little town. You can be a hot chick version of Ren from Footloose."

'Did he just say hot chick?'

"You think? I don't know. It's been a while. I wouldn't even know where to start." She says shyly, tugging on the bottom of her long sleeves. "Not to mention my dad would go ballistic. Jason would probably have me committed."

"Why not? If that's what you want... You can always start taking lessons again. After we graduate, there's plenty of time to figure things out." Long, ringed fingers start playing with the chain hanging from his belt loop. Tapping metal against metal. "And tell 'em to shove it. They're not the ones walking in your shoes. You don't want to wake up at fifty with a bunch of regrets just to make a few squares happy."

People in this town might consider him a freak, but she can't help feeling admiration for the guy. To live without regrets… That sounds nice. Almost too good to work in reality. It doesn't hurt to dream though, right?

"Mmm. If only I had your balls..." The sentence trails off as she sighs deeply, thinking of how they'd react to being told off. It takes a moment to realize how strange that sounded, especially without finishing it. Eddie's eyes widen a fraction as he flips onto his back and drapes an arm over his face.

'Oh, God! I'm such an idiot!'

"I didn't mean to say it like that! I meant… um, like your confidence. Not your… you know… those. I–I'm not like a… Just… Just forget it. Can you act like I didn't say that?" If only she could kick herself. Despite knowing this is only making it worse, her mouth won't stop running.

"Absolutely not. You said what you said. I'm like an elephant. I never forget… And I won't let you forget it, either." Her mouth drops at his words. How cruel. Can't he show a little mercy for her being so uncomfortably awkward? "I'd say you can have 'em, princess, but I'm pretty fond of my boys. Think they've really grown attached to me."

"No! That's not what I meant!"

"Don't worry," Sitting up, he leans over the table to look down at her on the bench. A crooked grin on his face. "I knew what you were saying the first time. I was just screwin' with you. C'mon… Wasn't gonna pass up the chance to see you dig that hole a little deeper. It's cute watching you get all embarrassed."

Chrissy stares up at him, not saying anything. Just gazing into his eyes. They're full of amusement and… something else that she doesn't recognize. So, he thinks it's cute? What a thing to say at a time like this. But for some reason, her chest feels really tight. Like someone's giving a bear hug that's squeezing the air from her lungs.

"Like that. Your face is so damn red." Eddie snickers, covering his mouth with a hand.

"Sh—I don't want to hear that from you. Your ears and neck are just as bad. Maybe even worse!" Pushing up off the bench, the cheer captain swings her legs around to face him. Sure, she probably is beet red. That's partially his fault. But he's not holding up well either. It just spreads differently on him than hers does.

He purses his lips and looks away, combing his hair down to cover the offending areas. Got him… Too little, too late. Flopping down on the seat, he snatches up his pack of smokes and pulls one out. Something she noticed happens a lot. Whether it's cigarettes or weed. Maybe it helps calm him down. The guy can barely sit still for more than a few minutes.

"You know, I'm glad we had detention together. I thought you were mad at me or something." Chrissy chuckles, looking down at the fidgety hands on her lap. She was worried the teasing might've hit a nerve since he stopped talking.

Eddie whips his head back towards her and stares for a minute like she has two heads. "Mad? At you? Man, maybe you really are high…" He snorts, making a strange face. "Where'd you get a crazy idea like that?"

"I don't know. For almost a week, it was like we were strangers again. Then I… Ah, this probably sounds stupid, but I thought you were glaring at me in school. The same day you dropped me off. I wasn't sure how to interpret that. I mean, I could've just imagined it—"

"No, that wasn't… It wasn't for you. 'Kay?" He cuts her off, slapping his lighter down against the table. "Hell, you'd have to really go above and beyond for me to get like that. Some asshole was just getting on my damn nerves."

'Some asshole, huh? I wonder if that asshole's name is Jason?'

"Well, better them than me… I guess." She smiles and feels a sense of relief spread through her. Great. So he wasn't mad at her after all. If it's Jason, then that's not a big deal. Nothing's changed. If anything, those two seem to prefer it that way.

"It wouldn't be you. Trust me…"

'Radio Death? Already got that one. Salvaged Bones? Mhmm… Shit! Forgot Seventh Star came out last month.'

Eddie's eyes light up seeing the black and red case. Black Sabbath's latest album. Even though there's some controversy about the record and it's not as heavy—according to an interview in Heavy Metal magazine—there's no passing up the opportunity to add it to the collection.

The biggest struggle when going down the rows is determining whether to get the cassette version or LP. It depends on where he wants to jam to it. The van or his room? If it's that good, he'll eventually get both.

After dropping Chrissy off, there's some time to kill before moving on to the next thing. Going to Gareth's, then heading to The Hideout. Same as every Tuesday. He just needs to get there around seven-ish. It takes a bit to pack and load everything. Even if they're a little late, it's no biggie. Donna doesn't give a crap either way.

"The hell is this?" Noticing a neon green and yellow case, he looks at it curiously. This is new. Wasn't here last time, that's for sure. It sticks out like a sore thumb. Carpathian Sanity. Not a band he's familiar with. They can't be local, either. He would've heard of them. Screw it. There are random gems hidden in the rough. Maybe they'll surprise him.

'Reel it in.'

There's only so much he can get at one time. It all costs money. Something he doesn't have an abundance of. Getting a few albums every so often won't hurt… too much. It's whatever. Today's going pretty good, so might as well treat himself. Making a few sales earlier helped too. That gave him a little extra cash to work with.

Mindlessly wandering into the pop rock section, Eddie glosses over the titles and designs. Pushing a long sigh out. What a mess. He should kick his own ass. Then again, acting like a fool is apparently his specialty. Maybe even his calling.

'Here it is.'

He stops in the middle of the row and narrows his eyes on the case. A black-and-white image of a man sitting on a stoop with yellow lettering. Billy Joel's 'An Innocent Man'. His most recent album, aside from a greatest hits collection that's more expensive.

"Hn." Grabbing the tape, he decides that'll be enough. Any more and it'll cut into his budget for other stuff. Like gas. Or new strings for his baby. They're starting to wear. Better to take care of it now instead of waiting for one to break. With his luck, it'd be in the middle of a set.

"What's up?" The cashier is the epitome of stonerdom. Barely reacting when Eddie drops the tapes onto the counter and nods to him. Burnt the fuck out. But he's a chill dude that's been working here for years. One of the few people who doesn't follow him around to make sure he's not stealing anything.

"Nothin' much. Slow day." Mark takes his sweet time ringing the items up, looking at them from under his heavy lids. Yeah, he definitely smoked recently. "Oh, yeah. I saw Metallica's new album is coming out in like… I don't know. Two weeks or something? Saw it on… TV, probably."

"C'mon, man. I'm the one who told you about that. It's the first week of March. And you're supposed to put a copy on the side for me." He snaps his fingers to get the guy's full attention. What the hell… This better not get screwed up. Record stores always get the good stuff in ahead of time before a release, so the employees can set up the displays and whatnot. Regardless if it's a day early, that album needs to be in his hands.

"Right. That's probably where I heard it."

The urge to facepalm is tempting. Or rinse this guy down with a hose to sober him up.

'He better not forget after I did him that favor.'

"Really, Munson?" Holding up the Billy Joel cassette, Mark arches a brow and laughs. Hilarious… A metal head picking up the Piano Man's album. Something mainstream and far removed from the usual choices. Call the damn presses. It'll make headlines all over town.

"Zip it. I'm experimenting." He hands over the money and snatches the bag. Despite it not being his taste in tunes, that reaction irks him. The guy's attitude just screams 'you're listening to this garbage?!'. And no, he normally wouldn't but that doesn't matter.

"Gotcha, my dude. Have fun with that." The cashier snorts, shaking his head.

"I will. And don't forget to put that aside for me. We had a deal." Seeing the man nod, he turns and leaves, swinging the door open none too gently. Great. There's a fifty-fifty chance of Mark actually remembering to do it. The odds don't look good.

Eddie hops into the van and empties the bag beside him on the long bench seat. Might as well pick one for the ride. The rest can go into the glove compartment with the other tapes. Maybe he'll give Carpathian Sanity a try. The case looks interesting enough, but that doesn't mean it's a banger.

'Oh, yeah…'

Reaching into the breast pocket of his denim vest, he pulls out a few pieces of folded paper. A grin tugs at his lips when unfurling them. Chrissy liked his drawing. She put a heart next to it. Cute. And her handwriting is really nice. Nothing like his chicken scratch.

A yellow slip falls out and lands on his lap.

"Heh… Bad girl." He shakes his head before tossing it into the glove box. Who would've thought Nocito finally had a use? It presented an opportunity he just couldn't pass up. There didn't seem like many other options. If Lady Luck wants to keep throwing curve balls his way, he can at least try to hit them.

"You can stay with me." The note gets tucked back into his pocket for now. Going back to the tapes, he bites the side of his mouth while trying to decide which one gets the first honor.

"No way! You're just going to make fun of me."

To say that with such certainty… What gave her that impression? There's no point in asking just to shame her for an honest answer. Some people would, though. Like those snobby assholes in band. And she was nervous to tell him. It was written all over her face.

Eddie sighs, lazily picking up the tape. "Why the hell not?" The music a person likes can say a lot. What will this tell him about Chrissy? Maybe nothing. But she emphasized Billy Joel. First and foremost. Glancing at the list on the back, he scans the titles for one that's familiar to start with. He lives in a trailer, not under a rock. Everyone knows the Piano Man and at least a few of his songs.

This one will do. It's really popular, especially with chicks. There's no way she doesn't know it. Pushing the tape in, he starts the van and lights up a cigarette. Might as well just go to Gareth's now. They can chill for a bit until it's time to shove off.

"Oh, oh, oh… Uptown girl. She's been living in her uptown world. I bet she's never had a backstreet guy…"

"Jesus Christ." A grimace forms on his face listening to the lyrics. He never paid them any mind before. But holy shit. The window gets rolled down as he takes a long drag, blowing the smoke outside.

"...And when she wakes up and makes up her mind, she'll see I'm not so tough… Just because I'm in love with an uptown girl…"

"Oh, shit!" Eddie slams on the breaks seeing that stupid red light, leaving skid marks trailing behind the van. That was a close one. He might be a little over the line but good enough. Screw getting another ticket. The damn cops like chilling in the little parking lot nearby, waiting for some fool speeding down the busy street. He's been the fool. A few times. The Man can piss off. They're not getting any more of his money.

'Hmm?'

Feeling a familiar creeping sensation crawling up the back of his neck, he whips his head to the side to look out the window. Two guys in a car in the next lane are staring at him. Not just staring… Gawking. The one on the passenger side is more obvious about it. They must be college shitheads. Sitting pretty in a BMW their parents probably bought them.

"You gotta problem, man?" Their reactions are irritating him. What's with people today? It's like everyone wants to get on his nerves now. After having a pretty decent day, this is a real pain. They don't respond. Just keep staring like he's some kind of oddity on the side of the road. Fine. If that's what they want, that's what they'll get.

Hands shoot up to make devil horns as he rolls his eyes back and wags his tongue, making a hissing noise. The guy closest to him recoils and quickly rolls the window up. As if his life depends on it. Maybe the satanist will sprout wings and rip him out of the car. Or snatch him up to use as a sacrifice. Whatever paranoid bullshit people think these days.

The moment the light turns green, the BMW takes off like a bat out of hell. Eddie can't help laughing as he leans on his arm out the window to watch them go. What idiots. So easy to freak out.

"...You know I can't afford to buy her pearls, but maybe someday when my ship comes in, she'll understand what kind of guy I've been. And then I'll win…"

"Tch… Shut the hell up, Billy Joel."

'I did it!'

Chrissy closes her bedroom door and lets out a deep breath. It's done. After spending way too much time on the letter, she finally finished it. Sneaking down the stairs to slip into his study was nerve-wracking. She had to be as quiet as a mouse, but some of those darn floorboards creak under the slightest pressure.

Thankfully, he's actually in his room tonight. How lucky! There's no way she'd get into the study if he was up and about. He'd catch her really quick. Trying to explain that would've been really awkward.

Still, it was a perilous journey. The cheer captain felt like a cat burglar sneaking into a museum. Tiptoeing around and trying not to bump into anything that might sound the alarm. Instead of stealing priceless art, she was leaving a handful of pages neatly on a desk. The biggest issue is when she stubbed her toe on the way out. It took every ounce of self-control not to shout and maybe even curse a little. That would've ruined everything.

Pacing back and forth across the room, it's hard to decide what to do now. Wondering how he'll react is stressful. Perhaps it'll open a door for them to talk. Like, really talk. Not yell or complain. Be open and honest about what's going on. To an extent… There's no way she can talk about that. The strange things going on. Her dad might not send her to Pennhurst out of fear of others finding out, but there's no telling what he'll do.

'Maybe I should try to get some sleep.'

There's no point in studying, anyway. Not tonight. Her mind will be far off in the distance, thinking about everything else but the words on the pages. It's a waste of time.

"No, no. That's a good dream. You should do it! Go on, bring dancing to this shitty little town. You can be a hot chick version of Ren from Footloose."

"Ahh! God!" Dropping onto the duvet, Chrissy covers her face and rolls from side to side. God. Why did she have to open her big mouth and carry on like that? Like a dumdum? That was so embarrassing. His reaction only made it ten times worse. As if she could open a dance studio… That's ridiculous.

"And tell 'em to shove it. They're not the ones walking in your shoes. You don't want to wake up at fifty with a bunch of regrets just to make a few squares happy."

Hanging out with him is putting weird ideas in her head. Doesn't he understand they're not the same? Telling people to shove it is not something she'd do, especially to her dad and Jason.

Breaking away from the plan sounds good in theory, but realistically? How would that even work? What if she got disowned for going too far? Being all alone with no home, money, or help is a scary thought. There's only so much friends can do before she'd become an inconvenience. And Jason might wash his hands of her by that point.

Grabbing one of the many pillows from the top of the bed, Chrissy wraps her arms around it tightly. There's still time to decide. If things work out from the letter, maybe she can even have a sincere conversation with her dad about this. Tell him that IU isn't what she really wants. Perhaps asking to push it back could be an option? Even a semester? Just to bide some time to think about all this. Deadlines are coming up soon and a decision has to be made.

'I need a hug.'

If only she could embrace herself instead of this pillow… Or better yet, had someone else here to do it? She rolls over to bury her flushed face into the covers. That's a thought that needs to go into the trash bin. But it's still a tantalizing idea.

Her mind keeps racing, hopping from one thing to the next tonight. She can't keep it straight or focused. Studying definitely would've been useless. Now it's slipping into the realm of fantasy. Perhaps it's from being lonely. No one's allowed over, except for social events like when her parents would throw dinner parties. It's been quite a while since that happened.

The only time she's ever slept in a bed with someone is during sleepovers with other girls. That's not the same. There's no cuddling involved. Maybe some kicking or accidentally rolling over each other. What she wants is different. Just another person to curl up with and hold on to. Say everything's going to be alright. Make her feel comfortable and safe. Warm. Get them to run their fingers through her hair. Or vice versa. It all sounds good.

Would Jason do it? Climb the tree and sneak in here through the window late at night? His parents are pretty lenient with him going out. He's a responsible guy, so they don't worry too much. As long as she locks the bedroom door, it should be okay if they're quiet. Her dad won't just bust it down.

'That's not a good idea. Jason would probably want more…'

He's been slowly pushing a little further and further. Not that anyone can blame him. They've been dating for a while. That's only natural. Right now, Chrissy just wants a little intimacy. To feel close to someone she has a genuine connection with. Not fool around or do things. If she asks him to go through all that trouble, it's understandable if he gets the wrong idea.

"This is sad." the cheerleader whispers to herself, moving onto her back to stare up at the ceiling. It's not like she's technically alone. Far from it. Every day she's surrounded by people. Friends. Teammates. Boyfriend. Others. This sense of loneliness still permeates through her, no matter how many are around. It makes no sense. Like there's always an enormous distance between her and them, even if they're only literally inches away.

'I want to see Eddie again…'

A gasp leaves her lips at the thought. Despite not saying it out loud, a hand clamps tightly over her mouth. As if to ensure it doesn't escape. That would be terrible. But is it wrong to want a friend around, though? That's normal, isn't it? If Eddie was here and not Jason in this imagined scenario, he'd make her feel better. There wouldn't be a fear of being pushed to hand over more of herself than she's willing to give.

Can a guy and girl who are friends lay together without it becoming weird? In bed? They kind of did at the picnic table, but that probably doesn't count. Is that considered cheating? Is it wrong to even think about it?

'I'm a terrible girlfriend… Jason deserves better.'

"Forget it!" This is silly. Chrissy yanks a pillow under her head with every intention of going right to sleep. No more thinking about this nonsense. Not about how much deep crap she'd be in if Jason found out about her friendship with the guy he despises. Or Eddie's wide smile and the butterflies in her stomach.

Sighing, she closes her eyes and tries to let it all go. Enough is enough. There's school in the morning. So many other things to worry about, too. The team has practice tomorrow, then a pep rally on Thursday to focus on.

The cheer captain's expression eventually relaxes. Sleep came faster than expected. After a few moments, her brow furrows. A small whimper slips out. And a trickle of blood runs from her nose.

Eddie takes a big step and hops up on the bleachers. The students sitting nearby lean back on their seats, giving him more room than necessary to get by. Like he's diseased or might mug them if he gets too close.

'Good. Get out of my way, suckers.'

Seeing familiar faces one more row up, he wastes no time getting there and smirking widely at the uncomfortable reactions that meet him along the way. He knows… This isn't his thing. So why is he here, frightening the children? The little underclassmen who hear all kinds of weird shit?

Like Hellfire performing satanic rituals on Fridays in the drama room. How they kill small animals, use their blood to draw pentagrams, then drink the rest. Cut cats' heads off and put them on fence posts. Or better yet… His band spending the weekends lurking the dark roads outside of Hawkins in the van to pick up hitchhikers. Why? To sacrifice to the big guy downstairs in hopes it'll seal the deal and give them fame. Virgins are the most in-demand. Can't forget about them.

And he, Eddie 'the freak', is the ringleader. The worst of the worst. Bringing in unsuspecting fledglings into his cult and getting them to wear homemade club shirts. The horror… How anyone can stomach his villainy is beyond him.

Only the freshman really buy into that stupid stuff. Letting the older students scare them who get a kick out of it. That usually gets old when they start sniffing around for weed. So it's either vile satanic cult leader or weirdo drug dealer who plays a Satan-approved fantasy game. Both are okay with him.

"Eddie? What are you doing here?" Mike looks surprised to see him. Naturally. As previously stated… He knows. Not his thing. No one would expect him to roll into the gym and plop his ass on the bleachers.

If his little sheep weren't here, he would've just watched from the side. Probably leaned up against a wall and stayed in the background. No one from the band's here. That's not a shocker. He wouldn't either under normal circumstances. Since that's not the case, might as well take a seat with Henderson and Wheeler.

"What? Can't a guy show some school spirit? I love pep rallies. They're the bomb." Even he has a hard time saying that crap with a straight face.

"Bull! I call bull." Dustin folds his arms, looking up at him from beneath the brim of his hat. "We already had a few since the year started and you're always a no-show. I doubt you suddenly had a change of heart."

"Oh, so you think you got me all figured out, huh?" The kid earned himself a noogie. He puts him in a headlock, grinding his knuckles against the 'thinking cap'. The Hellfire fresh meat sure are mouthy this year. He likes it. "Can it, Henderson. I got my reasons."

"Can't you guys knock it off?" A girl sitting next to Mike snaps. Eddie cranes his neck back, looking at her curiously. That's Red. The chick who moved into the trailer across the way with her mom a bit ago. Since when was she friends with these two?

'Damn. She looks tired as hell. I could carry groceries with those bags. No wonder she's being pissy.'

"Good morning, everyone." That voice… Higgins. The douchebag principal. On a mic, at that… One of the last things he wants to hear this early in the day. Flopping down onto the spot next to Henderson, he reluctantly turns his attention to the gym floor. "Please stand for the Pledge of Allegiance."

Eddie keeps his ass glued to the bleacher as everyone else gets to their feet. No dice. The most they're getting are his shoes propped up on the row in front of him. Hopefully they'll get their pledging done quickly, so the fun part comes sooner.

The band on the sidelines starts playing as the cheer team makes its way to the gym floor. Quickly getting into position to start their routine. They dive right into it with no trouble. Considering their crazy practice schedule, they could probably do it in their sleep.

Right in the center is the head cheerleader. Chrissy… In all her glory, at the very heart of the performance. The focal point. Smiling brightly while swaying her hips and shaking those shiny pompoms. A group in the back creates a pyramid, with the dude cheerleaders making the base and flipping a blonde in the air. In front, a redhead does a cartwheel down the row.

'She looks happy.'

Maybe he should've come to more pep rallies. Like before... It's a sight to behold. They really put their all into it. Just for the schmucks in this school. Leaning into his hand, he quietly watches their routine. A rare occasion in this building where he willingly chooses to behave. The team's at least earned that much for all their hard work. Only them. The band and basketball team can suck it. Twice.

Now it makes even more sense why she does this. From a club perspective, this is the closest thing they have to dance. Her passion… It's clear as day now that he has a few more pieces of the puzzle. He could see it on her face in the forest, and even now. If talking about it alone was enough to draw out a glow in Chrissy, actually doing it makes her radiant. The scene leaves him transfixed, unable to look away.

'...Lúthien'

Eddie jerks in his seat when the crowd starts clapping and cheering, barely realizing the routine's now finished. What a shame. The cheerleaders run over to the sidelines to sit on the floor as the drums build up a fast rhythm. That can mean only one thing...

"Let's hear it for the Tigers!"

The basketball team runs out from the back and right through a large banner. Bunch of hams. They line up and take center stage on the gym floor. After all, they're the 'real' stars of the show. Their captain walks with his head high and shoulders back, strutting over to the mic Higgins left behind.

"First, I want to thank each and every one of you for giving us your full support. Without you, the Tigers never would've made it this far. We wouldn't be on the road to regionals. Give yourselves a big hand!" Jason grins as the crowd erupts with applause, doing exactly as he wanted. "And of course, I have to give a huge shout-out to the greatest and most beautiful fans of all time. The Tigers cheer squad!"

The Hellfire leader can't help scoffing. What a joke. His eyes land on Lucas, standing beside the other basketball shitheads. The dark side sucked him in. Tempted him with lame promises of popularity in exchange for conformity. Now that's more like making a deal with the Devil.

"Chrissy…" The entire gym goes quiet with a single word. Like they're eager to hear what this youth pastor-sounding son of a bitch has to say. Eddie can feel his jaw tightening as Jason smiles, patting a hand against his chest. "Chrissy, I love you, babe."

The silence is broken with oohs and awws coming from every direction. They're eating it up. Loving the public display of affection. The self-indulgent bullshit served to them on a silver platter. Chrissy doesn't react at first. Just sits there and stares at him, probably realizing all eyes are on them. He put her on the spot in front of the whole school. She quickly blows him a kiss. That seems to satisfy the voyeurs.

This is part of the reason he never liked Jason. The guy's so full of himself that he either doesn't realize how he makes others feel or couldn't care less about it. After hanging out with Chrissy just a few times, Eddie already knows this isn't something she'd want. How does a person who's been dating her for a while not see that too? Unless it doesn't actually matter.

"What's wrong?" Dustin leans to the side and whispers. It's just now that he realizes his leg is bouncing up a storm. And he couldn't say what kind of expression is on his face.

"Nothing." It comes out more brusque than intended. He tries to reel it in, since Henderson has nothing to do with any of it. The kid's great. "Just forgot how boring this crap is."

"I know these last couple of years have been hard. It's been difficult for us all. As a town, as a community… We've been tried and tested. Hawkins has shown its true mettle. Its tenacity and fortitude to keep going, no matter how dark it gets." Gripping the mic, he strides back and forth to make sure the entire gym gets a good look at him. It's part of the performance. Giving the flies the illusion they're included in whatever glorious endeavor the basketball team's working towards. They're all one big ol' happy family. Jason could have a future in politics. He slings enough shit and most are more than willing to bite. "We've lost so much. So many people. Students at this very school. Even our police chief. But did that stop us? NO! Nothing will!"

'Really, man?!'

"We'll keep going because that's what Hawkins is about. That's what the Tigers are about. The friends we lost along the way would want us to. They'd want us to carry their memory with us all the way to the Championships. So, let's show these other schools what we're made of! That Hawkins stops for nothing and we're coming for that trophy!" The crowd loses it at that. For once, he can't stand to be around so much racket. And that's rich coming from him.

'Bunch of damn sheep…'

Essays are the worst, especially long ones. English is not her favorite class… Nocito's relentless with these assignments. She always thought senior year would be a breeze. After all, they're graduating in a few short months. Nope. If anything, her grades are worse now than ever before. A couple of C's in English, pre-Calc, and woodshop… and a D in Spanish.

'Mom would definitely kill me.'

"Ugh…" The essay is on 'The Seagull' by Anton Chekhov. In order to 'expand their horizons'—as he put it—Nocito gave them a list of books from non-American authors for them to choose from. Great. She actually loves reading. There was no particular reason to pick this one. It's basically a story about sad people who aren't happy with their lives that have a strong desire for something they never get. Plenty of unrequited love, too. Pretty tragic.

Konstantin, a man who wants to become a famous playwright, falls in love with a beautiful girl named Nina. The problem is that she doesn't feel the same way. Nina eventually starts a relationship with the famous novelist, Trigorin, the boyfriend of Konstantin's actress mother. It's a real mess and all of it goes badly. No one gets a happy ending.

Still, a part of Chrissy feels kind of sorry for Konstantin. To be in love with someone for so long... Spanning years. And it goes nowhere. Then having to sit back and watch the woman he practically worships be with his enemy… The man he despises and is secretly envious of… That sounds so painful. She can't imagine how rough that must be. But Nina's not at fault. A person can't control who they love.

'I don't like sad endings… Not reading this one again.'

Hearing a knock on the bedroom door, she looks up from the papers on her desk and arches a brow. It's pretty late. And her dad rarely comes up here anymore. Actually, he's been purposefully avoiding her for the last few days. Ever since leaving that letter in the study.

"I'm awake."

The door creaks as it slowly opens. He quietly comes in and closes it, taking a seat on the very edge of the bed. This is really unusual… So much that it's putting her on edge. A few moments go by in silence. That's not too bad, right? If she was in trouble, he would've immediately jumped into a tirade.

"I know-" She jumps a little when he finally talks. It's not the annoyed, angry tone she's become accustomed to. A little lower. Quieter. "I know this has been difficult. That I'm not the easiest to live with."

Chrissy grabs onto the top of her chair and squeezes it. Holy crap. Is he admitting to being a jerk? That's why he's having such a hard time? Did he get taken over by a body snatcher? Are pigs flying? Is hell frozen over?

"Things haven't been great." He talks slowly, choosing every word carefully. This seems like a real struggle for him. His gaze stays trained on the rug as he continues, not sparing her a single glance. Perhaps that's too much as well. "That's on me. Not you. I… need a break."

'What?!'?

Everything upstairs turns into a scrambled mess from hearing that. He needs a break? It's got to be a body snatcher. Her dad would never utter the vile word 'break', let alone say he needs one. That's like, sacrilegious in this household.

"I'm going away for two weeks. I need to take care of some things."

"When?" the cheer captain whispers, barely able to find her own voice. This is too absurd. He might as well have given her whiplash.

"I'm leaving in the morning. It was set up a few days ago, but I didn't say anything. This is me notifying you. There's plenty of money in the savings account. I will leave the bank cards on the kitchen counter. Don't do anything you wouldn't do when I'm here. That means no parties or sneaking friends in, even Jason. And don't mention this to anyone. Only my colleagues at the firm know. If people find out and word gets around, someone might try to—"

She stares at him in stunned silence. Too much, too fast. Whatever he's saying now is going in one ear and out the other. It's like he's reading off a list of bullet points. And he's leaving in the morning? For two weeks? That means he won't be here for her birthday… Does he realize it? Or is this so important that it can't wait even a few days?

'Is this my fault? Was it a mistake to write that letter?'

"Chrissy," she gasps, realizing he's standing in front of her. The news was just a lot and caused her to zone out. Gazing up at him, he just seems so tired. Maybe he does really need this. "It'll be… okay. You're a good kid. I'm proud of you." A hand pats the top of her head, ruffling her hair. Just like that, he turns around and leaves the same way he came in. Quietly, without looking at her.

Chrissy stares at the door for a long time. Slowly, a small hand reaches up to fix the tousled strands of hair sticking out of place. Her bottom lip quivers and she sucks it in, hiding it.

"Afterward, the Treaty of Versailles was signed on June 28th, 1919. Exactly five years after the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand. Isn't that interesting? It ended on the same day it all started—"

Chrissy's eyelids are so heavy. They just want to close for a few minutes. Just a couple… But it won't work out that way. She learned that last time in Nocito's class. Giving in for a second will wipe her out. Even listening to Ms. O'Donnell carry on about WWI is more of a chore than usual.

Why can't things just go smoothly for a little while? There's always some kind of dilemma. Since Tuesday, she's having sleeping issues again. Not the same as before, though. Drifting off is the simple part now. Figures. After that is when the problems pop up… For the last three nights, all she's had are terrible nightmares. The worst. They never seem to end. Just an ongoing experience that leaves her feeling completely drained when it finally ends.

And when she gets up, there's always a little blood on her face and pillow. Something is very wrong. Maybe a sinus infection? Or her nasal passage is super dry from the weather? That's just the icing on the layers of crap cake she received. Nightmares, bloody noses, and her dad left really early in the morning. Before she even got up. He could've at least said goodbye instead of leaving a note. Just a bunch of rules and instructions, along with a bank card.

The house had already felt too big and quiet before. Now it's a hundred times worse. It's unnerving. And now she has to live like this for the next two weeks, including for her birthday. Reminding her dad was tempting, but he probably desperately needs this for his own well–being. Getting in the way of that isn't right, especially for a trivial matter like a birthday.

Hopefully when he gets back, things will start getting better. This trip might change everything. He's spent so long buried in work and rubbing elbows with 'important people' in the community that he's neglected his own needs and family beyond how they appear on the outside to others.

"Get started on this packet and make sure it's finished for tomorrow. All of this will be on the final. Keep your notes organized and any worksheets I gave you. Use them to study. Do that and it won't be difficult."

Ms. O'Donnell stops at each row to hand a stack of packets to the first student, who takes one and passes them back. The rest of this period will just be the class working on it while staying quiet. That presents too many opportunities to nod off. The teacher goes back to her desk and sits down, leaving them to dive into the worksheets. It's easy. All the answers are basically in the textbook.

"Ah!" she hisses, feeling a sharp sting against the back of her calf. Just above where the sock ends. What the hell?! Leaning over the side to check, there's a small red mark on her bare skin and a curled-up rubber band on the floor nearby.

Frowning, Chrissy eyes everyone around suspiciously. Who would do that? It hurt. That was really mean. Most people are working on the packets, minding their own business. No snickers or side glances from anyone trying to hide their involvement. Until she lands on a figure in the back row.

As soon as their eyes meet, Eddie grimaces and shrugs, giving an apologetic look. She's going to smack him… Not really, but imagining it makes her feel a little better at the moment. Or shooting him with a rubber band in return. Not that it would have the same effect. He has on a pair of jeans while her legs are defenseless in this cheer skirt.

He mouths the word 'my bad' and any ideas of retribution go out the window seeing his face. Just what was he trying to do, if not hit her with it? Arching a brow, she's confused when he motions towards the door with his head. They're too far apart for passing notes or whispering, which only makes this more difficult.

'Does he mean…?'

Making sure the teacher's not looking and no one's paying attention to them, Chrissy subtly moves her thumb back and forth, pointing to each of them. He nods and nudges towards the door again. Oh. Now she gets it.

'What the heck is he thinking?!'

Eddie wants them both to get out of class and do what, exactly? It's only second period. There's still a whole school day to get through. This isn't about smoking, right? He said it himself that she'd get caught immediately. Or playing hooky? Does he want to hang out in the stairwell? Leave the building? It's not clear.

'Do it.'

She freezes as the thought barrels its way to the forefront of her mind. It's quiet yet insistent, like a demanding whisper. Is that a good idea? Should she? Getting a hall pass isn't an issue. The teachers trust her.

What's there to lose? A large part of her wants to go. Three days passed since they last hung out. And those days were rough. She's lonely and sad. No one besides the guys at the firm knows her dad's gone. After Jason or Charlotte drop her off, that's that. The rest of the evening's spent all alone until it's time to sleep. Even that is nothing but misery now, too.

'I can't tell them. They'll try to push me into using the house for a party or something else. No way.'

With enough pressure, Chrissy knows she'll cave. It's better to just not mention any of that and avoid the entire issue. There's no doubt it would lead to some uncomfortable situations. Telling Eddie might be okay, though… He probably wouldn't care either way.

"Ms. O'Donnell," Raising a hand, the decisions already made. She's going. No one's going to stop her. "I need to go to the bathroom."

"Oh… Okay, I'll write you out a pass." The teacher pulls out a small pad and scribbles on it. Bingo. Her ticket to getting some relief.

Slipping out of the classroom and into the hall, she has no clue how he intends to leave. With him always messing around or skipping, O'Donnell's less likely to do any favors. Or perhaps he'll literally just get up and walk right out. There's no telling what he's willing to do.

This is kind of exciting… It's hard to hold back the smile threatening to form or the warmth surging through her. Eddie seems to bring that side out. The giddy girl who wants to hum a song and swing her arms around. Not in front of him, of course. Just on the way. Is this what people mean about being on cloud nine?

'Wait… Where am I going?'

Darn. She got ahead of herself. All he hinted at was them both leaving class. Not where or when. It might take a little for him to get out of class, too. The girl's bathroom is nearby. Maybe she'll wait there for a few minutes, then head to the stairwell. That seems to be the safest bet for now. It's where she found him before.

Pulling open the bathroom door, Chrissy does a quick glance to make sure no one's in here. Even a peek under the stalls. Sometimes others hide out in here when skipping class. Like she did. Nope. All clear, thankfully.

"Yeesh…" Looking into the mirror, there's a little puffiness beneath her eyes. Likely from broken sleep and stress. Makeup can't fix that. She doesn't have any on hand either. A few products are in her bookbag, but that's still in class. It would look too sketchy to bring it when she was only supposed to go to the bathroom and back.

Eddie probably wouldn't notice or care. Guys don't seem to pay attention to stuff like that unless it's really apparent.

A cough from the stall behind her causes Chrissy to jolt. It's muffled, like someone's trying to suppress it. Weird... She was pretty sure the bathroom was empty. Unless they were standing on the toilet when she looked underneath.

It gets louder, turning into a full-on gag. Whoever it is sounds like they're having a tough time… And it's affecting her, too. Raising a hand, she gingerly grazes her neck, feeling the lump forming in it. Maybe it's best to leave before it gets to be too much.

"Um… Are you okay?" The cheer captain asks softly. She takes a deep breath, trying to ignore the pulsing in her throat. Despite the noises triggering something inside, there's a person behind that door that might need help. Even if it's just to talk. Leaving without even trying would bother her.

"No... I'm not." Her brows pinch together hearing the voice. That's… strange. Taking a step closer, she leans back a little to see exactly which one the girl's in. Straight ahead, from the tiny glimpse of white sneakers from beneath the stall.

A retching sound fills the room. Gagging, gasping, crying… Splattering against water. She breaks out into a cold sweat as a familiar putrid smell hits her nose. Stomach acid. Vomit. Smacking a shaky hand over her mouth and nose, she shivers in place, fighting the urge to get sick. Her stomach is tightening up and throat's closing. Eyes watering up. The air's too dense. A headache's coming on.

"Come here… Please. "

The door swings open and crashes into another, leaving the stall wide open. A small teenage girl in a cheerleading outfit hangs over the side of the toilet, heaving and sobbing pathetically. All skin and bone. Her strawberry blonde hair in a neat ponytail.

"Hah… Ahh…" Chrissy's eyes widen as she gasps for air, grabbing at her own neck. She takes a step back and runs right into the edge of the sink.

The girl turns away from the toilet, wiping her discolored lips with the sleeve of the white cheerleading jacket. A pained expression etched into her gaunt face while tears form in those grayish, sunken eyes from the harsh heaving. She whimpers, struggling to move from how emaciated her body is. It's all wrong. All of it. Something's not right with her legs and elbows. They're messed up. Sticking out at the wrong angles. Disjointed. Poking against the pale, paper-thin skin covering them.

"You're making us fat again… Mom's going to be so… angry…" A sob echoes through the bathroom and her face drops into bony hands. "What are we going to do? I'm so scared…" It turns into a wail from the panic as she claws at her hair.

The cheer captain's knees give out and she drops onto the tiled floor, too scared to move. She needs help. Someone. Anyone.

"E–E… Hel…" Chrissy tries to form words, but it's a whispered, jumbled mess. No one's going to hear it.

"I need to lose weight… I have to get rid of something… She's going to find out… Take it away again." She grabs onto the side of the toilet for leverage. A wasted hand reaches up to her mouth, passing through those blueish lips with no intention of stopping. The fingers disappear, then the back of her hand and wrist.

The girl's hollow cheeks expand unnaturally until the corners of her mouth tear, blood gushing down onto the uniform and floor. The arm keeps going, passing through the throat and into the chest cavity. A loud snapping noise—like bones breaking—rings out. Her eyes roll back as she shakes, attempting to pull it back. A large lump shows itself beneath the front of the cheer jacket and slowly moves up, making her neck grossly expand with the retreating hand.

"Gahh…" she chokes and convulses, drawing a blood-covered sleeve and forearm out. Her jaw cracks, shifting to make room for what's coming. Dislocating and separating to widen even more. The wrist and hand finally reappear, with something clenched tightly in its fist. A large hunk of meat. An organ. Gagging, she leans forward, sputtering droplets of blood everywhere. Gasping for air. Barely sparing it a glance, it gets thrown right into the toilet.

'... H–Heart… That's a… heart.'

"Not enough… Not enough… That's only eight ounces…" she cries again, wiping at the fluids covering her ruined mouth. "This is all your fault. I hate you so much!" The lights throughout the bathroom start flickering. "All of it. You're too greedy to give anything up! You gluttonous pig!" Two bony hands slap against the tiles, using them to drag herself across the floor.

"Ahh!" Chrissy screams, seeing the creature crawling out of the stall. "Go away!" Tears run down her cheeks as she hyperventilates, frozen in fear. She wants to curl up into a ball beneath the counter and wait for someone to come help. It's not real. This is just a hallucination from not sleeping. Like the spiders and her mom's voice in the forest. Closing her eyes will make it disappear.

'Not real. Not real. Not real.'

A figment of her imagination from stressing over possibly relapsing. It can't do anything besides look scary. That's what she tells herself. The worries of falling back into her eating disorder must've created this.

'Don't look. It's nothing. Someone will come in, eventually.'

When a cold, wet hand grips onto her ankle and squeezes down on it, the cheerleader lets out a terrified shriek. She feels it. Hallucinations shouldn't be able to physically touch someone, right? Without thinking, her leg pulls back and kicks at the hand, trying to get it off. Two of the thin fingers bend backward, snapping off and dropping onto the tiled floor.

She scrambles to get out of there as the girl snaps her jaw with a murderous look. The fear's making it so her body won't listen properly. There's no telling what'll happen if she does nothing. That thing already proved it can touch her.

Chrissy panics and uses her sneakers to kick off the floor, pushing herself closer to the exit. Quivering hands shove at the door until it gives way. She crawls out into the hallway and grabs onto the wall to get to her feet.

'I should be safe out here…'

Trying to catch her breath, she whips around to look down both sides of the hall. Lights are normal. No one's around. It's out in the open. Now, she just needs to find someone.

"Chrissy."

Tears spring to her eyes hearing the unearthly voice. That doesn't belong to a human. Just like her mother's from before, it's distant yet all around at the same time. The lights in the hallway flash, going berserk.

"Go away!" She screams, bolting towards a classroom. The door's locked and looking through the window, it's empty as well. One after the other, she runs down the row and tries her luck. Each one is the same. Locked, dark, and completely deserted.

"Oh my God!" Kicking a door out of frustration, it doesn't even budge. But she can feel the pain. This is real… Where did everyone go? The entire school can't be gone. Sweat runs down her temple as she looks around wildly, praying to see another soul.

"Is anyone here?! Someone?!... Please! Eddie?! Anyone!" She tries to calm her breathing to listen closely. Just in case there's a response, even from a distance. Nothing. Realization hits as she keeps checking more doors. This is it. She's completely alone. There is no one else. A shaky hand presses against her chest, feeling the pounding just beneath the surface.

"Oh, no…" Her teeth chatter as she cries, crouching down towards the floor.

"Don't cry, Chrissy… It's time for your suffering… to end."

Chrissy loudly sobs, wrapping her arms around herself. Why is this happening? She's scared. It's time for her suffering to end? It wants to kill her. Why? What did she do wrong?

'I don't want to die… I'm not ready yet!'

At the end of the hall, the door to the girl's bathroom slams open. Her eyes widen seeing the sickly arms slide out from behind it, clinging onto the smooth surface of the floor. A broken body inches out, jerkily dragging itself forward. Its head swivels to the side until its gaze lands on her.

"S–Shit!" Getting to her feet, she watches the creature with trepidation. That thing might look similar to her, but it ends there. One disgusting monster from another. It screeches and crawls across the hallway, startling the hell out of her by how fast it's now moving.

Chrissy takes a step back before turning around and booking it. Standing here isn't an option. If these things are hellbent on killing her, she can at least make it a pain in the ass for them to get the job done.

'Somebody, please help me!'