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CHAPTER SEVEN MORSE CODE
A plan was quickly formulated and put into action. Abby is glad for the work that is taking place, she needs a distraction from everything that's happened within the span of forty-eight hours. She's managed to convince her parents that she's staying at Isla's for the night, but she knows that they worry for her regardless. She itches to turn around and run home to the safety and comfort of her parent's arms, she wants to go home and forget everything that's happened, to purge herself of the fear that has built up beneath the surface, but she knows that she has to stay. She owes it to the people that she was not able to save, who lie still within the halls of Hawkins lab with ghosts in their eyes who had let out their final rattling breaths that night alone.
But when all is said and done, she finds herself tucking herself into a far corner of the house. Hopper, Joyce, Mike and Jonathan choose to remain in the shed to attempt to break through the Mind Flayer and contact Will. The rest of the group members are scattered around the house; she remembers passing by Nancy and a pacing Dustin in the kitchen, past Max, Lucas, and Alex sitting staggered against the walls of the hallway, conversing in hushed whispers, and past Steve in the living room as he swings his bat. It's the first few moments that she's had to herself in a long time.
She pulls her knees up to her chest and rests her chin atop her knees as if hoping by some miracle if she makes herself small enough, she'll be invisible to the world and simply fade out of existence. She's just so tired. She just this all to be over—this insanity, this fear, this constant yearning to burst out into tears, the feeling of dying hope. Hope is a fickle thing. It comes and goes, wanes and waxes, but never remains steady enough to truly fuel people. They've depended on hope far too much and it's only a matter of time before it disappears altogether.
Abby doesn't look up as Steve enters the room. Not even when he takes a seat next to her just as he had only hours before on the school bus. "Hey," he greets softly. "Sorry, I'm still not wearing a bell. How are you doing?"
"Not good," Abby answers truthfully. "I'm really, fucking terrified, Steve. I almost died today, Steve—you almost died today. And everything's just all so wrong and twisted and I feel like I'm losing my fucking mind." She takes a rattling breath and glances over at the boy beside her. She doesn't know why she's suddenly telling Steve all of this, maybe it's because he's the first person in a long time that's asked how she's doing because even Abby Foster who outwardly puts on a smile still sometimes feels as though she's going to crack like a diamond under pressure. Even her foundations need touching up from time to time. "And people, they tell you, that things are one way, and then it turns out that it's all wrong and everything's gone all upside down and what else ... I mean what else are they wrong about? Because now I'm not sure I know what's real anymore."
