Chapter Text
Chrissy stood in front of her bathroom mirror scrutinizing herself. To a friend or acquaintance, she might pass as normal, but Chrissy noticed all of the differences in an instant. Jaw clenched, skin paler than usual... even under her makeup, she noticed the bags below her eyes.
Her hands tremored slightly as she ran them down her baby pink sweater, smoothing out non-existent wrinkles. Was this the right outfit? A cropped sweater with high waisted jeans and her signature high ponytail- one she had worn less and less since high school but decided to sport today. It seemed a bit too innocent, but she didn’t know what the dress code was for this kind of thing. Her blue eyes met her own reflection as she tried to look serious. Capable. In control. Then, a few slow, wavering breaths- in and out- and she was out the door.
***
It had started five days ago, with nightmares. Chrissy could barely remember them at first, but she would awake sweating, eyes darting around the room in a panic. Then she would become painfully aware of her aloneness and curl up under the blankets, waves of grief and uneasiness washing over her until she fell back into a restless sleep.
”Nightmares are to be expected when we’re working through trauma” Chrissy’s therapist, Tammy, had told her when she brought it up in session. “I know it’s uncomfortable, but it doesn’t mean you’re moving backwards.”
But to Chrissy it felt distinctly backwards. She wasn’t new to nightmares, but these were… colder. Her mother, as always, made an appearance, but there was another presence too. One she couldn’t see but could viscerally feel. It was hollow. Empty. But somehow went on and on forever. Like the air being knocked out of your lungs and never being able to pull in another full breath.
Then the dreams became more vivid. The hollowness had a form, and would whisper her darkest fears as she desperately tried to escape her childhood home. Her parents would be unreachable: dead or injured, or sometimes even morphing into the hollowness themselves, ugly beasts that sucked the air out of her lungs and the light from her eyes.
On the fourth night, Chrissy tossed and turned, barely drifting asleep before waking disturbed and paranoid. Then she would fight sleep for as long as she could before being sucked under again. The cycle repeated in near perpetuity, until finally, mercifully, the sun started to rise. Throughout the torturous night, Chrissy had made a decision. And now she only had to wait a few more hours to take matters into her own hands.
It took every ounce of patience to wait until 7:30am. 9am would have been better, but Chrissy was scared she would do something more drastic if she didn't call right now. So she picked up the phone and dialed her old cheer friend, Monica.
“Who is this?” A man’s groggy voice came through the line after a few rings.
“This is Chrissy, I’m so sorry to bother you this early, but I really need to speak with Monica. Is she there?”
A pause before the voice spoke again. “It’s Saturday. She’s still sleeping. Can you try back in an hour?”
“No” Chrissy could feel the desperation leaking from her voice, “It’s urgent, and will only take a minute. Please.”
Another pause, and then rustling as the phone was passed over to Monica. “Chrissy? Is everything okay?” Hearing Monica’s voice made something open up inside Chrissy. They had been so close in high school, sharing everything and staying up all night for each other when Monica was going through a breakup or Chrissy had family trouble. But five years had passed since then. And what had been happening to her wasn’t a breakup. It was something unexplainable, something that made her sound crazy. She couldn’t share with Monica. So she trudged on with her plan.
“Hi Mon, yes everything is okay, I’m so sorry to bother you this early but I was wondering-”, Chrissy cringed, preparing herself for what was to come after she spoke the next words, “-if you still have Eddie Munson’s number?"
Monica, to Chrissy’s surprise, burst into laughter. “Eddie Munson?” Chrissy could hear creaking and knew that Monica was sitting up in bed. “Is this a joke? No one has spoken to that… no one has spoken to him since high school. And even back then it was just for dru-“ Chrissy waited while Monica’s mind processed. “Chrissy. Tell me you are not trying to buy drugs from Eddie Munson at 7:30 in the morning.”
Chrissy laughed in what she personally thought was a relaxed and believable fashion. “Oh Monica, don’t be silly. It’s for a story Paige is doing. Her paper thinks he might have been involved in some sort of.. crime or something and don’t have a way to contact him. So I told her I’d do a little digging.” Chrissy had thought up this story before calling, but now that she said it out loud, it felt flimsier. What if Monica asked follow up questions? What if she didn’t believe her?
“I know it’s strange but it’s a time sensitive thing. I really don’t know any more about it than that. I’m just doing Paige a favor. If you don’t have his number though, it’s alright, I’ll keep calling around.”
A deep sigh came out of the receiver and Chrissy imagined Monica and her husband sharing a look. Then, finally, “Just.. give me a minute”.
***
"Hello?" His voice sounded the same over the phone as it did in high school, just sleepier.
"Hi um, this is Chrissy Cunningham, we went to school togeth-"
"I know who you are, Chrissy. Believe it or not I still remember the queen of Hawkins High. I’m just a little confused as to why she might be calling me at 8 in the morning on a Saturday."
Chrissy flushed with embarrassment. Even if they had drifted apart in the last few years, her and Monica had shared many a late night or early morning phone call. It was another thing to disturb the weekend sleep of someone Chrissy barely ever knew, especially when it was to ask such a particular favor.
"Oh- I’m so sorry, I’ll call back later-"
"Well I certainly won’t be able to sleep with the mystery of this phone call going unsolved" he sounded playful, barely even bothered that she had rudely awoken him on a Saturday morning.
"Okay" she went on, "well I was actually calling because my friend Monica Clarence said you might still be in the business of selling.. um-"
"If you’re about to say what I think you are, please don’t say it over the phone.” All the morning grogginess had now gone from his voice.
"Oh of course, yeah... is there a place we could meet up and talk about-?"
"Tonight. 7pm. Lover’s Lake. Unless you have other plans.."
"No, that should be fine." 7pm could not come fast enough.
"See you there, queen Chrissy". The phone clicked and she was alone again.
***
Something felt different about Lover’s Lake. Normally the grassy beach was alive at this hour, populated by at least a few moms pushing carriages and teens attempting to be discreet in various make out spots. But today was unusually cold for September. Chrissy found herself at a picnic table, completely alone.
The small blonde hugged herself and turned her face away from the wind. She checked her watch: 7:15. Was Eddie Munson standing her up? Did she even really talk to him this morning, or was it something she had convinced herself of in a sleep deprived, half-conscious state? She shook her head. No. This was not happening. She still knew how to identify reality.
To ground herself, Chrissy tried to focus on the present moment by using her senses: an exercise Tammy had shared with her. The sight of the waves across the darkening water, slightly choppier than usual. The smell of the damp foliage in the forest behind her. The sound of the last few birds settling in for the night.
When she was a child, Chrissy’s father would bring her here, usually when tensions were getting high at home. She savored those days on the lake, eating peanut butter sandwiches and splashing in the shallow water. Her father was an avid birder then, and taught her to identify many a bird song.
Now, all grown up, Chrissy could still recognize the melodies coming from the forest. The singsongy cheerily, cheer up, cheer up of the robin. The nervous, bubbling drill of the killdeer.
Then, another noise pierced through the forest: one that did not come from a bird.
Tick
Tock
Tick
Tock