Gender: Male
Age: 27
Sign:
Scorpio
Signup Date: July 09, 2022 |
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08/21/2022 11:20 PM
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CHRISSY WROTE THIS
TW: Domestic violence, threats of sexual violence, drugs, alcohol, probably other things.
Chrissy didn’t like being alone in the trailer, especially at night, especially when it was rainy and windy and thundering outside as though every nightmare in her head was seeking a way to make itself into reality. Eddie didn’t like leaving her alone either, but this was…Vecna related. And it allegedly couldn’t wait. So Chrissy found herself sitting on the brown/orange sofa of the Munson-family trailer, sketching dragons and daydreams in her notebook, while the walkman at her side blasted out the sounds of Billy Joel’s Uptown Girl on repeat.
The real curse of Vecna, Chrissy thought with a small smile, as she doodled a simple rose complete with bloody thorns, he makes you listen to your favorite song until you hate it.
From the front porch, Chrissy heard the blam-blam-blam of heavy boots on the rusted iron steps. The storm had been causing the screen door to slap against the porch on and off throughout the evening, but this sound was definitely different. Purposeful. She paused the song and stood up as the locked front door was violently kicked open.
She could smell the alcohol before she saw the man. He smelled like the couch in Jason’s “hide out” stale beer, musty mixed whiskies, and not a small amount of vomit. His hair was tangled and knotted, his face streaked with dark stains that could’ve been blood or grease. He had a rough shadow of stubble across his chin. And his eyes were dark voids that might have made Vecna uncomfortable.
“You Wayne’s new girl? Sly old dog. If you think that rust bucket is a good time, I can show you a real ride, sweet cheeks,” the man grinned at her in a way that made Chrissy’s skin crawl. He went straight to the built in cupboard and started pulling things out, throwing them on the ground.
“Who are….what are…” Chrissy couldn’t seem to form a cogent thought. “You need to leave.” She settled on, her voice shaking more than she would’ve liked.
The stranger tossed vhs tapes and various family pictures to the floor as he hurried to clear the cupboard. “And I will…” he looked over at her with an air of disdain. “As soon as I got what I came for. You can come too, sugar tits, I promise I can show you things Wayne can’t… What the hell did that old loser do to score a hot young thing like you?”
“I’m not with Wayne,” Chrissy half snorted the words, her face contorting with confusion. “I’m Eddie’s…” she wasn’t sure what word came after that. Friend? Girlfriend? Soulmate? There wasn’t a great word for all that he’d become to her in such a short time. She was Eddie’s though; heart and soul and every inch of her. So maybe she could leave it at that. She was Eddie’s. And he was hers.
“Eddie?” the man laughed until he coughed, and looked at her with drug-crazed eyes. “That little sh*t? He paying you?” He gave her an assessing once over. “You have the build of a speed freak. A little clean, but nice and skinny. Come on, princess, don’t play. I have much deeper pockets than that little prick. You be nice to me…I’ll be nice to you…” He tugged violently at some false panel at the back of the cupboard and pulled out a duffel bag, he swung it to the floor, and unzipped the top. It was stuffed full with cash and drugs and guns. It didn’t take a genius to do the mental math and realize this was the haul that Eddie was perpetually working to repay to those creepy drug dealers who stopped by once or twice a month. The money and the drugs had been right here, under their noses, all this time.
“You’re his dad,” Chrissy said, surprise coloring her tone even as she connected the dots. “You killed his Mom. You left him holding the bag for your drug debt. You…” her small hands clenched into fists and her lithe form began trembling with rage. She had traced the scars this man had left on the body of the one she loved. Perfectly round cigarette burns. Long gashes from the edge of a pocket knife or bottle opener. Pock marks from the places that his rings had broken Eddie’s skin. She had kissed each old injury and promised that the future would never hurt the way that the past had. And she had wondered what she might do if she were ever faced with the man who had caused her Eddie such pain.
And here he was…
“Forgetting to pull out does not make me his Dad,” the man spat onto the shag carpet of the trailer. “He was a mistake. A mistake I told his bitch Mom to get rid of, but she didn’t listen. I guess you’ve heard what happens to bitches who don’t listen…” he smiled and took a step toward her, his hand stroking the exposed hilt of a knife tucked into his jacket.
It was strange to look at him, this man who held the genetic blueprint for her boyfriend. There were similarities, of course, but every inch of him was…wrong. He had Eddie’s strength but none of his kindness. The dimples were there but not the smile. Everything that was beautiful about Eddie was twisted in this man, corrupted and wrong. He was a nightmare mirror of Eddie’s past…but she would not let him have any part in Eddie’s future.
“You should go,” Chrissy said sternly. She had stood face to face with an evil with the power to reshape the world in its own image. She had felt Vecna’s slimy decaying hands on her face, and had told him to f*** off. She would not be cowed by this…mere mortal. She tilted her chin up and looked at Eddie’s father, her blue eyes flashing with fire. “Go and never come back.”
Without warning, Eddie’s Father lashed out, the back of his hand catching Chrissy in the jaw and sending the cheerleader toppling back onto the couch. His skull ring had caught her lip and split it open, causing her mouth to fill with copper blood. Before she had a chance to assess the situation, he had lept over the coffee table and was kneeling over her chest, his hands wrapped around her neck.
“Bitch. Stupid bitch,” Eddie’s father cursed his face mere inches from hers. “I’ll teach you to talk back. I’ll show you what a real man can do. Wish I could stay to see Eddie’s stupid face when he finds your corpse. You know the cops will blame him for you. Eddie the Murderer. Half of them think he killed his own mom. Won’t be a stretch to think he killed you too.” Chrissy’s vision swam, and lights seemed to flash before her eyes. She heard the clang-clang-clang-clang of Henry’s clock, and the voice in her head that never left her alone seemed to whisper, I told you that boy would lead you to a bad end.
But then, another voice, louder and more real to her than Henry’s voice had ever been. Familiar and strong. The voice of her best friend. “Fight Chrissy. Fight.” Nancy Wheeler’s voice from a dream or a memory. They’d gone over this…after Chrissy had tearfully confessed to Nancy about all the times that Jason had hit her. All the times he’d made her feel powerless and small… Nancy had insisted on showing her a few things.
“This right here is the strongest weapon you’ve got. Well…I mean, a gun would be better. But if you don’t have your gun, if you need to create some space so that you can get to your gun. This…” Nancy held up her palm and gestured to the flat at the very base of it. “Surprisingly strong. You strike hard and fast, it takes less than seven pounds of pressure to break the nose, force it back into the skull.”
“Why in God’s name do you know that Wheeler?” Chrissy had asked at the time, half giggling as she practiced palm strikes against the wrestling dummy, looking over at Max and Robin and mouthing the words ‘She’s scary, right?’
“You were in brownies with me, Cunningham. I had more merit badges than any other girl scout in Hawkins history…”
“They give one for nose breaking?” Max asked with a chuckle.
“No, my Mom embroidered that patch special for me…” Nancy grinned.
Back in the present moment, Chrissy freed her right hand from its trapped position between the couch and her body. With all the force she could muster, she smacked the base of her palm into Mr. Munson’s nose, and she didn’t flinch or relent when she felt the crack of cartilage. Borrowing another move from Nancy’s playbook, as the man retreated backward on the couch, she lifted her left knee and jammed it hard against his groin, before rolling off the couch gasping for air.
He crashed over the coffee table and had a handful of her hair, but Chrissy had been anticipating that he would follow her, and jammed her elbow hard into his solar plexus. When he released her, she stumbled to her feet, and quickly retrieved the handgun she had stashed in the entry table drawer.
She was bleeding, but so was he. She was shaking, but so was he. She was closer to the door, and she could certainly run. She would almost definitely be justified in shooting him. But would the cops believe it had been her and not Eddie? People in this town seemed to find a way to blame him for every little thing that went wrong…
And then there was the fact that she didn’t know if she could kill someone. If she’d be able to live with herself. Or if Eddie would still love her, if she was the woman who murdered his father…
“I want you to leave, and never come back…” Chrissy spat out the words, holding him at gunpoint. “You forget where we are. You stay gone. Or I will make sure you go to prison for the rest of your pathetic life…”
Eddie’s Dad grumbled and took a wobbling step toward the duffle bag.
“AH AH…” Chrissy scolded, cocking the gun pointedly. “That’s not yours. Eddie’s been paying off your debt ever since you ran. We’ll get that bag back to its rightful owner.”
He looked at her through bloodshot eyes, and there was so much hatred burning in his eyes. Chrissy couldn’t help but laugh. “You want to hurt me?” she tilted her head to the side, and a lazy smile pulled at her lips. “But you can’t. You’re not my nightmare, Mr. Munson. You’re not my monster. But if you ever come near me again….” Chrissy’s eyes flashed with something dark, and for the first time ever, she purposefully opened the connection between herself and Henry. It wasn’t anything she’d ever wanted. It was something she’d always feared. But for Eddie? To keep Eddie safe? There wasn’t anything she wouldn’t do.
She felt Henry laugh, and practically crow inside her head. He’d always wanted to be the hero. He wanted Chrissy’s blood. He wanted her to die. But he was also fiercely possessive of the little cheerleader, and the fact that this man had tried to hurt what Henry considered “his” did not sit well with the monster at the heart of Hawkins. Around Chrissy, the trailer stretched and twisted, a million spiders cracked out from bloody scars in every wall and they swarmed toward Eddie’s father. The drunk man fell to his knees and clawed at his bloody face, as Henry’s spiders swarmed his every orifice.
That’s my girl… Henry laughed into her mind, as he watched Mr. Munson cry and crawl and shake.
“Not yet, I’m not,” Chrissy murmured, and reaching out for her walkman, she pressed play. As the music reached her ears, the connection severed, and the nightmare visions faded. She walked toward the prostrate form of Eddie’s father, and kicked him hard in the ribs. “Run, Mr. Munson. Run, or I’ll let the real monster eat you.”
With that…he was gone, scrambling away from the trailer, getting into the waiting pickup and peeling out in a cloud of jack daniels and dust. Chrissy collapsed onto the couch, clutching her walkman to her chests. There was so much blood pouring from her busted lip, she didn’t notice the little trickle that was running from her nose.
The End? | |
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