deconstruction and old memories

. ✧ ・゜. +・o ✧

    The girl was closing the gate. Such a pitiless thing, easy to swat away, and yet she was closing it, one arm outstretched, blood, the fluid that was locked into human bodies, trickling easily from her nose. The man—the one they'd almost managed to kill, wrapping their tendrils around—had a gun, and he stood beside her protectively, ready to shoot if anything attacked. They knew that guns didn't do harm to their flesh, but there still was one vessel that could be hurt by those bullets, and it was a vessel the Mind Flayer very much wanted to keep.

With dazed eyes, what had previously been another girl stood in the tunnels among the others. Red energy wrapped around its hands, swirling and twisting through lithe fingers, and it spread to the waiting creatures among it. They took it in, breathing in energy that felt like fire, and then growled, opening their mouths, which had been compared to flowers and stars but really would never be as beautiful, letting the red form around their gaping jaws. They'd left the lab, flooded into the tunnels when they felt the lick of flames burning their insides, even though they'd been told to stay behind.

What had been a girl had failed at its mission, and the hub burned, the smoke swirling up throughout the tunnels. But now it gave its energy to the ones waiting, so perhaps they might survive a little bit longer. Rufescent blood trickled out of its own nostrils, and it closed its eyes, preparing for the end. Because this was the end of the world, and they all knew it. They just wanted to survive a little longer.

The Mind Flayer didn't give up that easily, though.

As the girl fought to close the gate and the Mind Flayer fought against, six teenagers stood in the tunnels, the horror of their current situation dawning on them. They had been running, running away, unaware of the fact that one of them wasn't among the group. One of them was in the tunnels, on her own, with no way out.

"What are we going to do?" Gabe's voice was several octaves higher than normal as he spoke, looking around the tunnels, as if expecting Alina Fairgrieves to suddenly come running, apologize with a laugh for being so slow. He knew that wasn't realistic, though, and guilt squirmed inside of him like a worm on a hook. He took a deep breath, his heart thudding in his ears. "We have to go back for her."

But before anyone could say anything—perhaps to agree, perhaps to disagree, though that second one was unlikely—the tunnels began to shake, sending the terrified teenagers to the ground. A roar shook the interior, and everyone flinched, helping each other to their feet.

"What was that?" Max asked, her voice laced with fear.

They whipped their flashlights around as more growls sounded, the flashlight permeating through the sticky membrane stuck to the walls. "They're coming," Mike announced. "Run! Run!"

They didn't need any further conversation. Didn't need any further debate. They all realized in an instant what the presence of the Demodogs meant. And so they ran, tears burning their eyes and filling up their goggles, sobs choking out of their mouths as grief lurched at their hearts. Lucas cried harder than anyone as he ran, forcing himself to keep putting one foot in front of the other. His calves ached, and he'd have willingly lain down on the floor of the tunnels if not for Dustin pulling him along.

The rope wasn't far away. A beam of light where the hole had been dug shone through the darkness, and everyone made their way towards it, tears still spilling from their eyes. Steve lifted up Mike, Lucas, Max, Gabe, up and out of the hole, out of the darkness, and they all lay on the field, panting, waiting for the others to join them.

But they didn't. "Shit," Steve breathed, as shadows began to make their way across the wall, the Demodogs running towards them. They were growling, roaring, and they were in pain. And there wasn't enough time to get to safety.

The party's cries for him to go, to at least try to climb to safety, were numb to Dustin's ears as he waited. Waited for death to consume him like it had Bob, Brandon, Alina, and the men from the lab. More tears spilled down his cheeks as the Demodogs emerged, beginning to make their way towards him. He closed his eyes, a final gasp shooting from his lips...

...as the Demodogs ran right past him. There was no searing pain, no chewed flesh. There were just animals sprinting past them, their feet heavy against the ground. Dust clouds shot up and Steve held onto Dustin, protecting him from the stampede, and they waited with bated breath for the Demodogs to vanish.

And it did, but not before one final figure came stumbling their way through the tunnels, their curly hair clotted with blood, their eyes glowing red with energy, and their face absolutely, completely, blank.

Alina Fairgrieves staggered as she caught eye of Dustin and Steve, whose own eyes widened, relief flooding through them, but before they could say anything, before they could lunge toward her and hold her and bring her to safety, she fell forwards, her thin body slamming onto the cold ground.

And then she screamed.

Perhaps Eleven felt it, all the way in the bowels of the lab. Perhaps she didn't. She didn't stop, either way.

Sometimes, you are lucky enough to black out if you are in enough pain. Sometimes the agony gets too bad, and then your body blesses you were the mercy of locking you into unconsciousness. This was not one of those days.

Sheer, utter agony ripped through every orifice of the vessel's body, a supernova of torment spreading throughout her as she lay on the damp field half a mile southeast of Danford. She couldn't see, couldn't breathe, her chest constricting as she screamed and screamed, alight like fire, swirling around in the crevices of her own mind. There was a sensation of something stripping away from her, peeled off like a sticker, but the pain was all she could focus on.

The party—plus Steve—crouched in front of her, their eyes wide as they watched her writhe on the field, much like Will had done on this very same field as the vines burned. This revelation struck them all at once, and they all now knew why she'd been acting so strange. Why the bags under her eyes got heavier and heavier with each passing day. Why she'd slashed Daniel Tree across the face and tried to stop them lighting the hub on fire. They all realized it at once, but it was too late.

The gate was closed. Eleven had done it. Sealed the two halves together with nothing other than the force of her mind. This meant that everything outside it would die, their lives snuffed out in an instant. It was why the Demodogs had chosen to run.

Will's a part of that army. They'd all known that. Known that if the gate closed, Will would die, because the Mind Flayer had creeped its way into him, rooting in his soul. Known that they'd have to take it out of Will before Eleven closed the gate. The plan had been foolproof, and it had almost worked, but they hadn't known that there was another member of the Mind Flayer's army, one who wasn't sick at all.

The Mind Flayer was in Alina Fairgrieves. It had taken hold of her just like it had of Will, and now, she was dying. Screaming as she was ripped apart, sobbing as black vomit spilled out of her mouth, staining her tongue. A little piece of the Mind Flayer died, and now, so would she.

Nobody else knew what to do. They were all frozen, their mouths wide open, more tears spilling down their cheeks. They'd thought Alina had died in the tunnels, and the pain of that had pierced them deeper than a knife, but this, this was so much worse.

They were all thinking different things in wake of this new horror. Mike was wondering how everything had gone so wrong. How he hadn't seen it before, the way she'd gotten thinner and more gaunt, resembling the skeleton she'd dressed up as for Halloween, the way she never smiled for longer than a minute. The way she sometimes zoned out, like she was seeing somewhere else, and the way she never seemed bothered by chilly temperatures.

Dustin was imagining a world without one of his best friends in it and found only nothingness, a gray void that was all life meant without her. A gray void pierced with the echoes of the screams she'd made when she died.

Max was clutching onto Alina's hand, willing her to fight. Thinking about the time at the arcade and their first official introduction in the bathroom and what she'd done for all of them. Thinking of her laugh, light as wind chimes, and everything they hadn't gotten the time to do. Praying that she wouldn't give up.

Gabe found himself too numb with shock to scream, panic welling through him because he didn't know what to do. All he seemed to be able to do was stare, his eyes getting wider and wider in horror, a whimper leaving his lips. He didn't know what to do.

Steve wondered how it was possible someone could mess up their babysitting gig so badly and prayed that Alina would be okay. She could be like an annoying little sister sometimes, but he loved her. He loved all of the kids, and he didn't want her to die. He didn't know what he would do if she did.

And Lucas? Lucas was the one who was clutching onto Alina Fairgrieves, his screaming intermingling with hers as a piece of the Mind Flayer died inside of her. He was the one shaking her, sobbing, pleading with her to survive this, to not die at thirteen years old after she'd lost almost everything she'd had, the one who held her close, yelling at someone to go get help, even though he knew there was no one who would be able to truly fix this.

Please Al you can't go I don't know what I'll do without you please don't leave me Alina I don't want to lose you too Alina Al Al Al please please please come on wake up wake up.

I promise I'll never hurt you. Ever. That was what Alina had promised Lucas in the junkyard a year ago, the day he'd nearly died from Eleven's throw. She'd seemed so confident in her words then, and although Lucas had been reasonably afraid—he'd just been thrown into a car by a telekinetic twelve-year-old, after all—he trusted her. He always trusted her.

But she broke her promise. And it wasn't because she'd looked at him like he was a stranger, her eyes blank as she took him over, because that wasn't Alina at all. And it wasn't because she'd broken his heart on the roof of the bus, either. No, Alina Fairgrieves broke her promise by screaming on the field by the tunnels, black vomit forcing its way out of her throat, her body convulsing rapidly and her eyes fluttering. She broke it because she was dying, and that was what hurt Lucas Sinclair the most.

Alina Fairgrieves wasn't supposed to die at thirteen. She was supposed to live a long and happy life filled with joyous memories with her best friends, she was supposed to heal from the sadness that had consumed her for so long, she was supposed to bake cupcakes with Eleven and play Monopoly with Gabe. She was supposed to go to the Snow Ball in sneakers and dance the night away. She wasn't supposed to die.

Then it all stopped. The screaming, the sobbing, the convulsing. Alina's eyes fluttered closed, and she exhaled, blood crusted on her face along with tear tracks, and her palms glowed a weak pink.

"AL?!" The agony in Lucas Sinclair's voice could not be described. It was the worst thing any of them had ever heard, and that agony ripped through them as well. "AL?! AL!" His hands found her shoulders and he was shaking her, shaking her desperately, and Mike was leaning forward and checking her breath against her skin.

"She's breathing," he announced, his voice thick with sobs. "We have to... we have to get help. Someone. God. God."

Alina's skin was pale, black veins jutting out of her skin. The black vomit that had been the Mind Flayer pooled around her before wisping away, absorbed back into the air. She was breathing.

But not for long.

Not for long at all.

And even as they watched, her breath slowed to a stop.

. ✧ ・゜. +・o ✧

a/n: i don't even know what to say except for that i cried writing and editing this chapter. and i also knew this was happening from the very beginning.

'till next time :(