Stranger Things Have Happened- Steve Harrington x OC

The Maybe-Body

Jonathon drove as Joyce and I sat, staring aimlessly out of the windows. Nobody said anything. I don't think anyone had the energy to. I couldn't help but notice people staring at the car as we drove down Hawkins High Street. Like I said, everybody knows everybody in Hawkins, and the green car we were driving around in wasn't exactly conspicuous. People were whispering to each other, with little points towards the car that they tried to keep hidden. I felt sick. Surely, the story of Will's death had hit the news by now- it was bound to have. And people in a small town love to gossip. I ripped my gaze away from the window and opted to look at my clasped hands instead, worrying a bit of skin around my nail for the remainder of the journey.

When we got there, I followed Joyce and Jonathon into the building. Hopper did a double take when he saw me, but shook his head in dismissal of even bringing it up and gently told us which way to go. We followed someone into some sort of viewing room that had a ginormous window on one wall looking into what looked like a morgue. The person left us as quickly as they'd brought us, and we made our way forlornly over to the window. 

Joyce's face showed only defiance. She was not in any way convinced that the body under the sheet on the table was her son's, and was looking with narrowed eyes at it, her arms crossed over her chest. Jonathon, on the other hand, could barely look at the sheet. His head was bowed low, and he was peering at it through his fringe to semi mask the sight. I silently reached out my hand and laced my fingers through his. He squeezed back immediately, and I returned the force.

A man in a hat and gown silently folded back the top of the sheet. It seemed to take forever. Like he was peeling it down a millimetre a minute. But eventually, Will's sleeping face came into view. His hair was slightly matted and his face was tinged green (presumably from the quarry water). I could feel the bile rising in my throat, and Jonathon was clearly experiencing a similar feeling as he yanked his hand out of mine and dashed out of the room with his hand over his mouth. 

I swallowed defiantly. Hopper was outside and could talk to Jonathon if need be, but I couldn't leave Joyce. I looked over at her, ignoring the hot streams of tears leaking down my face.

She was unfazed. No tears. No grimace. No raised eyebrows. Nothing.

"He has a birthmark on his right arm. Could you show me that please?" she asked.

The mortician lifted up Will's right arm and displayed a small birthmark. Joyce gave a short not, but I could see she was still unconvinced. She just didn't seem to have any more ammunition at the minute. 

"Can we come in to say goodbye?" I asked, wiping my tears.

The mortician shook his head; "It's against protocol. You'll have to do that at the viewing."

I furrowed my brow; "But... this is the viewing."

He scowled at me; "We can talk to the funeral parlour about another one before the funeral. Because he's part of an open case, we can't let you near the body until we've finished collecting evidence."

"Didn't state troopers tell the news it was an open and shut case?" I asked.

My tears had magically seemed to stop now I was challenging this man, picking holes in his logic. Maybe I shouldn't be doing this; maybe I was fuelling whatever fire was in Joyce that was upsetting Jonathon. But this didn't feel right.

"It's protocol to collect evidence anyway."

"But you've already done the autopsy."

"We're still waiting on some results," he snapped.