Evanescent | Stranger Things ¹

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

THE FRIEND OF MY FRIEND

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November 12, 1983.  Saturday.

NIGHT HAS FALLEN BY the time we arrive at the Byers' household, and I cannot be more relieved to get out of the vehicle. At the moment, Hopper's car is full to the max with children; Mike taking up the passenger's seat while the remaining four of us are crammed shoulder-to-shoulder in the backseat.

The ride up the dirt road is bumpy and uneven, and by the time the small trailer-like house comes into view, it is engulfed in complete darkness. The only sign that there is even any life at all comes from the five figures standing on the front porch, waiting for us.

When the car finally stops moving, I fall out of the backseat first but I am barely able to stand up straight before I am being pulled into the arms of a very tight embrace. "Oh, my God. Melanie!" My older sister coos, shaking with relief. My arms automatically curl around Nancy's waist in surprise, nevertheless hugging her back, and she quickly turns to pull Mike into the huddle. "Mike," She breathes out. "I was so worried about the both of you."

Mike blinks, hardly unable to believe that Nancy is touching him willingly. "Yeah, uh . . ." He swallows. "Me, too."

I pull back from Nancy, looking up to meet her steely gaze. "I didn't expect us to be meeting like this . . . You've got some explaining to do," I finally tell her. "What were you doing with the sheriff? And how are you even caught up in all of this?"

Nancy purses her lips and lets her arms fall back to her sides. "It's kind of a long story," She insists, trailing off. As Nancy's gaze wanders over both of our heads, her attention falls to Eleven who stands behind us, the young girl obviously feeling safer near Dustin and Lucas. Nancy suddenly frowns, noticing Eleven's rather spontaneous style. "Is that my dress?" She questions.

I look back at Eleven from over my shoulder and give her a tiny, reassuring smile. Then, I turn back to Nancy and let out an airy sigh, shrugging my shoulders in defeat.

"Looks like we've got some explaining to do, too."

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In only a week, Joyce Byers has both completely destroyed and transformed her household all at once.

The living room has been obliterated; one of the walls torn open by the sharp blade of an ax, now awkwardly mended by a mere blue tarp that does little to protect from the November wind. Another wall has been ripped from all decor and now holds the entire alphabet painted in thick, dripping black paint that's fumes still seem to linger in the room. Lastly, the entire ceiling is covered in Christmas lights, all of their bulbs removed from an unsaid cause.

Looking up at the lights in wonder, the five year old child inside of me wishes nothing more than to see the them beaming and active, but after knowing that they only flicker when the Demogorgon is near, I hope that they never go off while I'm inside this tiny trap.

In the quiet of the house, my brother clears his throat, drawing all attention to him, and holds up a single piece of paper that perfectly mirrors Mr. Clarke's previous diagram from only days ago at the funeral home.

"Okay, so, in this example, we're the acrobat. Will, Barbara, Mrs. Hawthorne, and that monster, they're this flea. And this is the Upside Down, where Will is hiding," My twin explains slowly. "Mr. Clarke said the only way to get there is through a rip of time and space."