Work Text:
Some people think that Hawkins is cursed. I mean they’re not way off, they just don’t know the whole story. I’ve been living here for awhile now, but nothings really been that bad before. Like sure I get the panic when some kid goes missing for like a week, or malls caching “fire” and a bunch of people die. But I was always able to handle that, I was never in town anyways when anything interesting happens. At least I used to be. Now there’s kids from my school being murdered and the whole town is in shambles. I want to just pretend that everything is being blown out of proportions as normal, but I don’t know how longer I can do that. Maybe I’m not getting the big deal about this because of how used to death I am.
“Oi, adventurer.” I hear a voice say as I’m lost in my thoughts. “Yea.” I say quietly as me and my friends are hanging out in the local scrap yard. I’m currently sitting on the roof of an old bus. “So, what are we going to do?” Sammy asks as he’s playing with a pocket knife. “About what?” I questions. “About the murders.” Sammy replies. “I don’t see how that applies to us.” I say as I smash a car window with a rock. “Amy, we all know these killings aren’t normal.” I hear Henry chime in. “Yea, none of us would be worried if it wasn’t for the way those body’s where left.” Alison says. “Not to mention, we did break into the morgue. Those body’s weren’t killed normally.” Tom explains. “I guess… your right.” I stutter as I don’t want to admit that somethings going on but…. “Can someone hand me my crossbow?” I ask as I lie down on the bus roof. “Sure.” I hear Susie say as I’m given my brown crossbow with some metal arrows.
It honestly feels like the world is ending and I’ll be dragged into the chaos some how. I alway am. I point my crossbow up at the sky before producing a flame of fire from my hand and I light up the tip of the metal arrow. “You guys don’t think Joey and Nathan are involved, right?” I hear Susie ask. I shoot the arrow from the crossbow up in the air before wiping the blood ink from my nose. “No, this is different. It doesn’t seem like their work. But it feels familiar.” I answer. “I… I don’t know, it’s just a feeling.” I stutter as I lie on my side, and look at the inside of my right arm to see, something that’s haunted me for the longest time. My black number tattoo. 023. It’s just familiar.