Apocalypse, Steve Harrington

Chapter Thirty-Six. Eleven

THIRTY-SIX
— eleven

SHE REMEMBERED HER entire childhood, the good and the ugly. She remembered being nine years old, her shoulders slumped and her hands at her sides, her eyes dead-set on Sara. She remembered Sara, before, and after the cancer took over. Lucy remembered the day her sister died. She could see it clearly— the monitors beeping wildly, the nurses swarming, her mother wailing, and her brother clamping a hand over her eyes so she wouldn't watch. Lucy hated the memory; it was a time of weakness for her. She couldn't help. There was nothing she could do for Sara.

She remembered the heartache. It was something she had only felt once before, seeing someone so young and innocent in so much pain. Now, the feeling was replicated; she stood, shoulders slumped, hands at her sides, eyes dead-set on Will. It was tearing her apart, seeing him in such a weak state. Lucy could see the effect the Mind Flayer was having on Will, and they were loosing time. Every second was valuable.

He stirred. Will's eyes fluttered and his nose twitched. "Where am I?" he groaned, eyes darting. "Where am I?"

Joyce was the first to speak. "We just want to talk to you."

He grunted. "Where am I?" Will shouted, thrashing in his seat.

Hopper stepped forward. "You recognize this?" he asked— Jim raised a drawing of the Shadow Monster.

"Why am I tied up?" he cried. "Why am I tied up?!"

    She winced, watching as Will lunged towards his mother. Her breath hitched in her throat— he threw his body forward, hate-filled words flowing from his mouth.

Will continued, "Why am I tied up? Let me go! Let me go!" he screeched— then, shockingly, his voice deepened. He convulsed, shook in his seat, and stopped with a heavy breath.

    Joyce moved forward. She sat across him, her face stern. "Do you know what March twenty-second is? It's your birthday. Your birthday," she spoke. "When you turned eight, I gave you that huge box of crayons, remember? All your friends got you Star Wars toys, but all you wanted to do was draw. And, you drew this big spaceship, your spaceship. A rainbow ship."

    A frown pulled on her lips. Lucy tightened her arms over her chest.

"I took that with me to work and I put it up, and I told everyone who came in..." Joyce continued. "...my son drew this. And, you were so embarrassed. And, I was so proud. So, so proud."

Jonathan spoke, "Do you remember the day dad left?" As he continued, tears welled in his eyes. His voice was soft, low as he spoke to Will. Then, Mike went— lastly, it was Lucy's turn.

    She had spent the last fifteen minutes trying to conjure her favorite memory with Will. It had to be perfect— and, oddly, with how long they knew each mother, her mind was nearly blank. She picked at her nails, eyebrows knitted. Then, she remembered.

    "Do you remember when we went rollerblading for the first time, Will? You were so scared," she spoke, voice gentle. "But, I held your hand, and I told you it was okay. You strapped those rollerblades on like a champ, grabbed my hand, and decided you were ready," Lucy continued. "Just as we were getting the hang of it, we went down hill and crashed. We both fell on our butts."