Hell on Earth

Chapter Fifty One - Normal

Cynthia didn't know when the dream started. All she knew was that she wanted it to end. She was in that damn room where the Russians had kept her, Robin, and Steve locked up.

"Well, well, well," the head Russian was walking up to her. "It seems as if the little sailor girl still has some fight in her left."

"It's not real," Cynthia closed her eyes and muttered. "It's over."

"It is far from over," the Russian told her.

Cynthia opened her eyes when she felt the needle go into the neck. She ran out of the room and through the halls of the base. It was one giant maze. As she ran, she felt the exact same as when she had gotten the drugs the first time. Her ears were ringing. The blood was racing to her head. She could feel the sweat dripping down her back.

Cynthia ran and ran until she came to a dead end. She hit the wall. Cynthia turned around and saw Billy Hargrove starting to walk towards her. He was walking slow and methodical. He was like a predator hunting its prey.

"Just leave me alone," Cynthia cried. Her back was pressed up against the wall.

"We have unfinished business, Cynthia," Billy said as he came closer to her. "The Mind Flayer isn't happy with your little act of rebellion. We just wanted the girl."

"You're dead," Cynthia muttered as tears ran down her cheeks. "You're dead."

"Am I?" Billy was barely an inch away. He was looking down at her. "I seem to be very real."

He grabbed Cynthia's neck and lifted her up. Instantly, Cynthia was fighting against him. Her skin was screaming at such sudden, harsh contact. Cynthia clawed at his hand to try and get him away. She closed her eyes and tried kicking him away. When, that didn't work, Cynthia opened her eyes again. Her father was standing in front of her once more. Cynthia started to panic to get away.

"You still try and fight," her father had a sick smile on his face. "You haven't change at all."

Cynthia wanted to cry out for help, but her father was just squeezing her throat tighter and tighter.

"But you're stuck here," her father mused. "You're stuck down here with me, and I know that the Russians will help me do whatever I want to you. You should have never left with your mother." The smile turned into a sneer. "Now it's time to face the consequences of your actions."

Cynthia didn't know what had woken her up. She couldn't tell if it was the almost dying or the fact that someone had unexpectedly touched her. Cynthia shot out of bed and started swinging. She felt her fist hit something. Instead of seeing if thing she hit was down, Cynthia tried to run for the door. Cynthia ran into another body at the door. When that escape plan failed, Cynthia ran to the corner of the room. She pressed herself into the corner and tried to make herself as small as possible. She closed her eyes and put her hands over her ears: she wanted everything to go away.

"Leave me alone!" she yelled. "You're not real! Go away!"

"Cynthia!" a familiar voice yelled. "It's me! It's me!"

Cynthia opened her eyes. Kneeling in front of her was the one and only Eddie Munson. His eyes were wide with confusion. His hair was pulled into a messy bun. Everything about him made Cynthia remember comfort and ease. She slowly took her hands off her ears.

"Eddie?" Cynthia cocked her head to the side. "You're not suppose to be here. Am I dreaming?"

"Wayne and I came back a day early," Eddie told her. "What are you doing here?"