To Heal All Wounds

No Good

Screaming.

There was screaming.

Just screaming, and blood, and endless, searing pain.

And Billy was caught. Tangled in the white-hot tendrils of smoke, unable to escape. Unable to make a sound. From somewhere behind him he heard Max scream, but he couldn't turn to see her. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

I'm sorry.

He screamed awake, arms and legs flailing in the thin sheet that had covered him. Above him, Susan was grabbing for whatever limb she could to calm him. She caught his wrist by accident but held on. Instead of calming, however, it made Billy twist and wrench harder. Still, she pinned the one limb she had across his chest, leaning her meager weight against him. Unexpectedly, Billy could feel the weight on his chest anchoring him.  He calmed his frantic breathing. He stilled his wild heart. She only let him go when he finally fell back limp against the couch cushions.

"Some nightmare," she muttered, standing with great difficulty.

"Where's Max," Billy asked with sleep still deep in his voice and his mind still echoing with Max's scream.

Susan hesitated and he couldn't blame her. Why shouldn't she still be afraid of him? He'd made her life and Max's a living hell every chance he got. Why would she want him to know where her daughter was? It was the same reason she'd pressed Max behind her when the girl had gotten back home last night. The same reason Lucas positioned himself between the two of them.

"Is she safe," He clarified, scrubbing his face if only to remind himself that he was still alive.

Susan relaxed visibly and smiled.

"She's safe. She slept over with her friend Jane at Mike Wheeler's house."

"Jane?"

"Jim Hopper's daughter."

Oh. Her. But that wasn't what everyone was calling her in the mall.

That wasn't what the thing in his mind had called her.

El. Eleven.

Billy sat up and nudged Susan's hand from his arm. He'd seen that girl before the mall too. Somewhere deep in his mind, he remembered her. A girl, frightened but still approaching him alone in the darkness of his own prison. Whatever had him had reached out for her and shown her... everything.

Or had he done that?

Why would he have done that? Secrets and pain that he'd hidden so deeply he'd forgotten about them... why would he show a stranger?

"I'm sorry," Billy murmured.

"What was that?" Susan was already in the kitchen and threw the question over her shoulder.

"Nothing."

Susan was silent again for a long moment before she finally chirped in a tone all too happy for Billy's comfort, "are you hungry?"

"Yeah."

He felt sick.

"We don't have much but... let's see what I can make up."

Billy made it to the folding table in the kitchen just as she was serving the food. Cheap cereal and weak coffee in plastic bowls and cups. Billy picked at the food but downed the coffee in one gulp, ignoring the searing pain in his throat. One more sign that he was actually alive.

"You need better food," Billy stated simply. Susan curled in on herself, muttering her apology.

Shit. He hadn't meant it like that. Billy tightened his expression, trying to find the right words in the right order to explain what he wanted to say.