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E R I N

ERIN CARVER HAD COMPLETELY butchered her first Halloween celebration. She wore a costume that nobody knew of, thinking that it'd be smart. The girl didn't even bring anything to carry the candy that she'd gotten from trick-or-treating. All Erin had was a time and a place, and a tight grip on her unnecessary film camera. Not to mention that the person who'd invited her, Jonathon Byers, had forgotten about the girl, leaving her to fend for herself in the middle of the tight-knit party of boys.

Not only was the girl's presence, for the most part, a disaster the entire night—she'd risked a hell of a lot more to trick-or-treat than just her dignity. Considering how little Erin actually knew about doing anything in the realm of social activity, she would've been better off staying home. Or so she thought, until Max Mayfield became the jump-scare she'd been waiting for all night.

She'd finally gotten the picture of the new girl, that she'd been sarcastically promised a few days prior. And with the night ending on such a surprisingly high note, Erin Carver thought that it had, somehow, become a great success. But little did the girl know, the night would end the same way that it began.

As she turned the corner onto her street, Erin Carver realized that the night's outcome would yield yet another result of her obviousness the holiday. Or better yet, the holiday hours—those of which her mother had to work on the day of Halloween. Her mother's schedule being just a few hours short of a normal workday, left Erin's palms sweaty as she stared at her mother's car parked in the silent driveway.

The girl was mortified. Her mother should've still been at work. And on any other day, she would've been. But Erin's mother was home for the same reason that her daughter had decided to sneak out: the small town's celebration of Halloween.

This would be the first and only irreversible misstep of Erin's throughout the night. And the sight of her mother's car would also be the first thing that could pry the film camera out of her clenched hands.

The equipment landed on the gravel, with a clashing, thudding sound, right in front of the girl's feet. And although the girl had made such a big deal about not damaging the borrowed camera, the sound of it clammering against the ground only echoed farther and farther into the back of her mind.

What used to be Erin's only concern, turned into the least of the girl's problems as she scraped the dented film camera off of the ground and anxiously proceeded towards the front steps of her home. She knew that what was waiting for her right behind the front door would be much worse than having to tell Mr. Clarke that she'd damaged school property.

With her shoulders tensed at any sudden movement, the timid girl quietly walked into her own home, preparing herself for whatever was about to occur. She gently set her dented camera down on the entry table, and removed her hat and gloves—the Halloween ensemble no longer being necessary.

The girl's dainty footsteps echoed into the dark, empty house as she turned the corner into the living room. Erin Carver's new path granted her a complete view of the open kitchen—or more importantly—who was sitting at the kitchen table, awaiting her arrival. Her mother, as silent as ever.

"Momma," Erin called out. The woman turned to face her daughter, only slightly turning her head from her fixed stare at the wall. "I—I can explain."

The girl's words involuntarily fumbled from her vocal cords. Erin Carver knew that nothing could save her, not even the truth. She knew that there was no explanation that could diffuse the anger of her mother. And especially with Jason staying late after basketball practice to get a leg up on the new senior, no one would be coming home to shield Erin from her mother's wrath—not anytime soon.

Her mother remained calm—not because she was calm, but because the woman held so much rage inside of her, that she didn't even know where to begin when addressing her frightened daughter. "Explain?"

"Momma list—"

"Tonight!" The woman angrily slammed her hands against the surface of the table, sending a shockwave of fear through her daughter's trembling chest. She then stood from the wooden chair, using the backs of her legs to push the chair out from underneath the table, just as she turned to face Erin. "Do you know what happens on nights like these?"

"On Halloween?" The girl furrowed her thin, taupe eyebrows, tilting her head as if to silently plead with her own, seething mother.

Erin Carver had gotten a taste of what childhood was supposed to be like. She'd finally spent one night outside of the sheltered, fear-inducing environment that she'd been confined to. The girl thought that with her tiny bit of experience, she could appeal to her mother, presenting the case that Halloween wasn't what the woman had made it out to be.

But, as the girl's own mother slowly began to approach her from across the living room, Erin had realized exactly who she was talking to. She was talking to someone who'd been so engulfed in her own religion, that she'd instilled such a fear of the outside world, in her own children. The girl was facing the woman who was the reason that she was silently praying to herself, hoping that God would be the one to save her from the wrath of her own mother.

Erin's soft eyes and submissive demeanor were not enough to ward off her mother's anger, as the woman grabbed her daughter's shoulders tightly. She then began to shake Erin, who was wincing from the warmth of the grown woman's breath radiating onto her face. "Do you know what he wants from you?"

The girl glanced into her mother's narrow, angry eyes, squinting her own in confusion. "Who's he, momma?"

Erin Carver would not immediately receive an answer, but instead a harsh smack across the cheek. "He, Erin—" Her mother returned her hand back to her daughter's shoulder, furiously shaking her head. "He wants you to give yourself to him."

The stinging sensation left against the surface of her skin was enough to remind the girl who exactly her mother was talking about. It was the one entity that her mother would never dare to say the name of out loud—the same thing that she was actively trying to slap out of her own daughter: Satan.

"He wants you to sneak out. He wants you to lie to me—to dress up, and be someone that you—you're not." The woman continued to squeeze her daughter's shoulders, only causing them to tense more and more.

Erin Carver lost more and more hope, as her mother continued to lecture her. She'd realized that the sins she'd committed could've only cut so deep, as her mother dramatizes the meaning behind her actions. Erin was not giving herself to the devil—she'd never indulge in something if it was a harmful temptation.

"Momma," The girl whispered. "It was one night. I—It won't happen again. I promise."

The woman, who stood only inches from her daughter's face, went silent. If Erin were to be mistaken, the girl would've thought that the woman would realize that she was being harsh—that her daughter was not entertaining the thought of Satan, by doing what every middle schooler in Hawkins was doing.

But, Erin Carver was not mistaken. She knew that her mother's speechlessness was out of anger. It was an anger that'd been building up ever since those last word's had left from the tip of Erin's tongue. It was an anger that was escalated by the unintentional look of disbelief that the girl was giving her own mother.

By the time the girl realized how harshly she was glaring up at her own mother, it was already too late. Her mother had started to drag her by the back of her shirt, heading straight for the closet.

This closet was a place that was meant for doing exactly what Erin's mother was trying to accomplish: ridding its occupants of Satan. It could be locked from the outside, with the goal of whoever walking out of the unlocked door being cleansed of anything unholy. It was mostly Erin who'd been used to being locked in the closet, as Jason Carver learned how to appeal to his mother, when he was just a little older than she was.

The wood-paneled walls were arranged with with an assortment of crosses, those of which Erin had photographed while locked in the closet once before. Every inch of that room had been photographed by the girl. It made her feel better. While printing the several images she'd taken, it made the room seem like more of a distant memory. That she was once enclosed in such a small space, that could be captured on camera, and brought into the outside world. It was silly, but it always made the girl feel less trapped, even after she'd been let out.

The girl tried to keep her feet in place, resisting her mother's pull, as she realized that she was about to be trapped again. She let out a haphazard yelp, involuntarily, as she scrambled to free herself of her mother's grasp.

After a few moments of struggling, her mother managed to drag her to the closet, that was already opened, waiting for her arrival. It took a few more moments for her mother to gain the momentum to shove the girl to the floor of the closet, before backing away from the open door, and peering down at her own, miserable daughter.

Erin scrambled towards the door, but she was not quick enough to get to it before her mother turned a blind eye and clicked the lock, from the outside. The girl peeled herself off of the ground, pressing herself up against the door. No words made their way out of her mouth, no matter how badly she wanted to beg and plead. She knew that there was no changing where she was about to spend the night, as she was no stranger to this kind of punishment.

The girl knew that her mother hadn't walked away from the other side of the door, yet, because the shadows of the woman's feet were casted by the light coming from underneath it. "This is the only way."

With those whispered words, muffled through the wooden door, the girl's mother backed away from the door and the shadows of her feet retreated to the other side of the house. Erin slowly slid down the door, before curling into a ball and readying herself for another night spent enduring the wrath of her own mother.

☆

While experiencing nights like those, Erin Carver could only spend her dreams counting down the seconds until she were to inevitably wake up—until someone were to let her out of that closet, the next morning. It was like the misery would follow her everywhere, even into the depths of her subconscious.

Sometimes, the girl would even try to envision some sort of happy place, in order to distract herself from the lonely, cold prison that she was trapped in. And sometimes, it worked. She'd dream a somewhat happy dream and not have to think about her mother until she were to wake up, and remember the reason as to why she was sleeping on that hardwood floor, in the first place.

That night, in particular, Erin did just that. She squeezed her tear-stained eyes shut and thought of the things that made her happy—that made her feel something. Erin spent what felt like an eternity reliving the events of that Halloween night, over and over again, despite the fact that they were what got her into trouble. Her thoughts, however, had a focus. And that focus was Max Mayfield, and whatever it was that Erin felt for her.

Thinking of this new girl put Erin at ease, even allowing her to crack a saddened smile through her tears and shuddering. And soon enough, the girl found herself drifting into a sleep—her only means of passing the time.

Except, when her rest was to finally pull her under, she was not falling deeper into a slumber, but instead awakening from it. It was peculiar. The girl thought that she'd fallen asleep and woken up—that it was already morning. But, as Erin Carver sat up from the floor, taking a glance at her surroundings, she realized that she was no longer in the closet.

Everything around the girl was a blackened void. The only thing illuminated was herself—made apparent by the girl lifting her own hand in front of her face and then glancing down at her curled up legs.

She looked up and down, before slowly pressing her palm to the surface of what was supposed to be the floor. Whatever she was lying on rippled underneath her touch, just like water. However, when Erin lifted her palm from the black wetness and rubbed her fingers together, her skin was bone-dry.

The girl was confused, somehow feeling trapped in such a void of nothing but open space. She'd never experienced a dream that felt so real. Erin also couldn't even decide if this environment was that of a dream or a nightmare.

Amidst the girl's curious movements, a small speck of movement lit up in the distance, far from where she was lying. If she concentrated, she could hear the faint voices of the others who seemed to be trapped in this void, alongside her.

"Hey!" Erin scrambled to stand up, getting to her feet surprisingly quickly, considering that she couldn't even see the nothingness that she was standing on. Her eyes widened as the ripples of the floor radiated around her freshly-placed footsteps. "Is someone out there?"

The girl decided to keep her gaze forward, locked on the small beam of light in the distance, so that she wouldn't lose sight of it. As her rushed footsteps grew closer, the movement of whoever was illuminated grew clearer and clearer, as well as the sound of their voices.

"You could've gotten us killed." One of the faint voices said. It sounded oddly familiar, although Erin couldn't pinpoint whose it was. All the girl could do was pick up the pace and make her way towards the echoing sound.

"Yeah, but you lived long enough to start bitching about it." Another voice sharply responded. Erin didn't recognize this one, as it was deeper than the other, sounding of someone a good bit older than she was. He angrily shook his head. "I should've just let you walk home."

The girl approached the isolated scene, beginning to piece together the two people arguing in a bedroom. One of them was an older boy. He was burly, harnessing a knotty mullet and dangling a lit cigarette from between his lips. The teenager was straddling a weight bench, prepping himself to lie down underneath the barbell, but not before arguing with the person standing in the doorway.

"Billy, you were swerving all over the road." Erin turned her gaze to the person locked within the harsh glare of the teenage boy. It was Max. She was still in her Halloween costume, holding her mask and knife underneath her arm and her trick-or-treat basket in her hand. The redhead rolled her eyes, folding her arms, the trick-or-treat basket still dangling from her hand. "You better hope that the Cliftons don't figure out that it was you who just took out their mailbox."

Coming upon the isolated—yet open—room, Erin's senses were overwhelmed with the stench of cigarette smoke. The underlying reeking of Billy's booze-breath was also hard for the girl to miss. And as she got close enough to study the boy's stare that seemed to travel straight through Max, it was obvious to Erin that the teen was completely hammered.

The girl had wondered why neither of them had noticed her standing right there. If it were one of the girl's dreams, surely the other two people in the room would have acknowledged her presence.

"It'll do 'em some good," Billy nonchalantly started, as he flattened his back along the weight bench. He then reached up his hands, wrapping them around loaded barbell that was hovering directly over his face. "Pretentious pricks."

Max leaned against the doorway, hardening her stare on the boy who was no longer looking back at her. She released a loaded sigh from between her lips, letting a few windy words break their way through. "I didn't know you knew words that big."

Erin watched as Billy's nonchalant, ignorant demeanor had quickly vanished. He racked the barbell almost as soon as he'd lifted it from the stand. He then used two of his fingers to pluck the cigarette from between his lips, as he sat up to face Max.

Something of a horrible feeling waved through Erin's body. She knew that something bad was about to happen. It was as if she could feel what Max was feeling—her pent-up fear of the older boy. She watched as Max slowly leaned away from the doorway, nervously unfolding her arms, as the boy stood up from the weight bench.

He took a few small steps towards Max, slowly tilting his head. "What did you just say?"

Max seemed to have shrunken in on herself. Her angriness turned into a nervousness almost as quickly as Billy had gotten so upset. "N—Nothing," She averted her eyes from his intense gaze.

Something was brewing inside of Erin. A mix of anger and fear, on behalf of Max. She knew exactly what this kind of treatment was like, and something about seeing it happen to the new girl, right in front of her, made her chest sink.

"Max," Billy said in a short-spoken, sing-song voice. His menacing footsteps towards the girl remained slow and delicately placed. "Say it."

"Nothing." Max re-iterated, clearing her throat and finally meeting the boy's eyes, confident in her own verbal self-defense.

Despite Max's efforts, the boy kept coming. He didn't stop until he was towering over the girl, who nervously stood her ground. Erin helplessly watched the scene, not being sure what the purpose of this nightmare exactly was.

"I just wanted to make sure I heard you correctly." The boy slowly spoke to Max.

The two were on the other side of the room, and Erin had no idea how she could hear his low voice. It was as if the boy was speaking directly into her ear. The girl felt so powerless, watching what was happening to Max.

Billy slammed his meaty hand onto the wall, right next to Max's head, startling the two girls. Although he seemingly had no idea that one of the girls was even there to witness what he was doing. "So say it!"

Erin's eyebrows remained knitted together as she watched the scene. Seeing Max flinch from Billy's movements made the spectating girl clench her jaw, only praying that she could somehow do something about what was happening. "Stop it," Erin muttered.

The girl, however, only had a few moments to stare at the scene—watching in complete helplessness—as Max stood her ground, tilting her chin up and confidently facing Billy. The older boy seemed to be angered by Max's stubbornness and, all of the sudden, flipped the glowing cigarette around, between his fingers, and pressed the orange ashes into her forearm. "Say it!"

Erin watched the expression on Max's face as the girl let out a yelp and winced from the pain of the burn. Her trick-or-treat basket had dropped the ground, tilting over and spilling candy out of it. In an instant, the situation had gone from simply startling the girl, to completely taking over her entire body with an intense fear for Max's safety.

"Stop it!" Erin shouted.

These two words were sang by the loud voice that Erin Carver could only ever wish that she'd gain the courage to use against her mother. Her hoarse scream was every bottled-up emotion that she'd been too afraid to let out. She, however, figured that it wouldn't change anything, since the two obviously couldn't see her.

But, in sync with the rage pouring out of Erin's body, Billy soon diverted his attention to a loud clanging sound coming from the other side of the room. At first, the girl thought that she'd been spotted by him, and that she was successful in getting him to leave Max alone—to distract him. Max used the diversion to quietly turn from the doorway, leaving only Billy and Erin in the room.

Erin tried to move out of the way as Billy began walking towards the source of the loud noise, but watched as her own arm disintegrated as Billy walked straight through it. It was strange. Her arm soon replenished, though, tingling with the same odd sensation she'd get when her foot were to fall asleep.

"What the hell?" The boy muttered, as he studied what was going on behind Erin.

The spectator of a girl turned around, to see what the boy had been distracted by. It was Billy's weight rack. One of the stands had collapsed, causing the barbell to tilt and all of the weights one on side to fall onto the floor. Erin's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, as she wondered what could've possibly made the sturdy weight stand fall apart.

Despite her every instinct telling her that this was all just a horrible dream, she felt as though what'd happened was real, and that it had occurred right in front of her face. And even worse, she could somehow—just—feel that her burst of anger is what was responsible for the timely coincidence that'd just saved Max.

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October 31, 2022
12:48 AM
3674 words

A/N

Happy Halloween!! I finished this chapter right on time. <3

nobody asked, but yes, this is 100% me taking scenes from Carrie 2013 and stranger things-ifying them.

also I mean no disrespect to religious people through writing this!! i literally looked up why extremely religious people don't celebrate Halloween and what I wrote in the chapter is basically the answer I found (minus something about celebrating paganism?? idek) but that whole first scene was inspired by Carrie and I tried to make the mom's reasoning the most rational that I possibly could for the given circumstance LMFAO.

I also find it really cute how thinking of Max is what (kind of) saved Erin from the closet, and then Erin saved Max from Billy <<33 my babies

sorry for the long wait, and thank you to those who asked about an update and motivated me to write! this chapter would NOT be out rn if it wasn't for you!!

i hope you guys enjoyed this chap, bc i actually has so much fun writing it.

<33

- disturbedia

☆vote if Billy is a bum-boy ☆