— CHAPTER 15 —
THE FLAYED

( trigger warning: violence, gore, the mind flayer )

WEDNESDAY 3rd JULY,
1985

THERE must be a limit to the amount of new information you can digest within twenty four hours. If there is, Amy miraculously has not reached it yet.

On any normal day, the things Nancy Wheeler has divulged to her would have been dismissed, or not so easily believed. But after what she saw last night — Mrs. Driscoll, writhing and shrieking in her bed — Amy isn't quick to discount anything. In her book, if there is ultimately enough evidence to support something, then it isn't redundant. Yes, everything Nancy has explained about this Mind Flayer sounds insane, but it does explain last night.

Amy is willing to open her mind a little more, after the last few years in Hawkins. It was like when Daphne admitted she knew about Tonya and Barb's deaths the whole time, and how the Hawkins Lab had covered them up. Despite being completely bewildered, and frankly sickened when she saw the lab from outside, it validated Amy's suspicions she just couldn't put her finger on.

She has a feeling there is still a lot more story to learn, which leaves awkward gaps and holes in her understanding of all this. There is little time to explain on the way to the Holloway House, so instead Amy takes that time to think over what she already knows.

Even with Nancy's station wagon she got from her mom, there are still some excess passengers, therefore Amy has also become a chauffeur in her own car. Cath rides shotgun in the front, while Max and El sit in the back seats. The journey has been mostly in silence, save for the radio which Amy kept on the news headlines. But she hardly listens to them, because something else distracts her...

El. The girl with the bloody nose. She thinks she knows her.

But how could she? Amy can't recall ever seeing her out and about. All Nancy said was that this girl has telekinetic powers (which is the wildest thing she's heard so far...), and that she gets the evident nosebleeds when she exerts herself with them. El was short for "Eleven", like the number tattooed as a 011 on her wrist — a grim reminder of her past as a test subject at the Hawkins Lab. Glimpsing the tattoo gave Amy more goosebumps than anything else. It makes her feel like so much has been happening under her nose, and she hadn't a clue.

This girl is so foreign to her. And yet Amy knows they must have met before, because she thinks Eleven recognises her, too. She keeps meeting her eyes in the rear view mirror, trying to figure her out. Maybe it's the hair? If she takes her brunette bob and the scrunchie away...

Oh, yes. Of course.

November 1983. Amy was still working at Bradley's Big Buy. Will Byers was still missing, posters tacked up on the glass doors and next to the aisles. She had been restocking the refrigerators when a little girl walked in, with dirt smeared on her face and a shaven head. The girl didn't say a word, just brushed past Amy and started taking as many boxes of Eggo waffles as she could.

"Uh... can I help you?" Amy had asked.

The girl had looked up at her, with dark eyes that looked like they had seen unspeakable things, yet were numbed with resolve in that moment. It was startling to see on such a little kid. "No," she answered simply. She proceeded to march out of the store without paying, aided by flying shopping carts and the doors slamming shut with a smash of glass...

That was Eleven. If she really does have telekinetic powers, that would explain the way Amy had felt in the store that day. She remembers rambling to Felix and Daphne about it — "It was like the air changed around me, the energy" — while they just shook their heads and thought she was going off on a tangent. But maybe she was right all along. The truth once again gives her a sense of relief, that she isn't the crazy one after all.

Amy follows Nancy's station wagon until they reach the Holloway home, parallel parking on the street. Before she unlocks the car, Amy studies the house from afar, suddenly feeling a deep pit of doom grow in her stomach. What if Felix really was flayed that night? That is the one truth she has tried desperately not to believe.

"So, you guys really saw Felix here the other night?" Amy asks weakly.

Cath nods, and so do the girls in the back. "I just hope he left in time," the former exhales shakily. "You haven't heard from him?"

"No," she admits guiltily. She hasn't seen Felix for a few days now, not since the three of them were at Lover's Lake together.

Amy watches the girls get out of the car, and is stunned by Cath in particular. Daphne's little sister, who used to jump out of her skin when the wind blew a door shut, now walks headfirst into this and speaks of it with a solemn familiarity. She appears so grown-up now. It feels odd that she is leading the way more than Amy is.

They reunite with the rest of the group, and head to the front door. Nancy rings the doorbell once, then twice. No answer. Led with no other choice, they glance back at Eleven, who takes that as her cue. The girl focuses her energy onto the handle and breathes deeply; it clicks and gives way, unlocking the door at her mind's will.

So weird, Amy thinks, staring in awe at the doorknob.

A few steps into the house, the bare skin on her legs turns to goose flesh. Cold air swims around their bodies in shocking contrast to the heat outside. Good thing Amy wore long sleeves today. She pulls them down over her hands, while the others cradle their shivering arms. Everything feels eerily... still.

     "Tom? Heather?" Nancy calls out, and receives no answer.

     The group stop in the living room, glancing around the barren household. A faint stench catches Amy at the back of her throat. "Do you guys smell that?" she asks. "Something chemical-like?"

     Everyone sniffs the air, faces contorting when they smell it too. Amy follows it with everyone through the house, like a twisted scavenger hunt, into the kitchen — the smell suddenly explodes in here, overpowering her airways. There are tipped over flasks and bottles of hazardous chemicals on the table and kitchen counter to prove it. The refrigerator has even been ripped out and tipped on its side, the coolant leaking out.

     Amy steps forward to examine it all. "Cleaning supplies, bleach, fertiliser... that's a batshit-crazy cocktail if I saw one."

     "You think they're guzzling this shit?" Jonathan asks.

     "Yeah," says Nancy, "either that or they went on one hell of a cleaning spree."

     "But last year, Will didn't eat chemicals," Max points out.

     Last year. Amy shakes her head softly, still getting used to all this. Apparently he was possessed by this... Mind Flayer thing, and the point of reference they keep using at the moment. Who would have thought it?

     "You didn't, did you?" Cath double checks with him.

     "No," Will says, perplexed, "this is something new."

     Mike seems to remember something. "Mr. Clarke, fifth grade," he reminds them. "Posit. What happens when you mix chemicals together?"

     "You create a new substance," Lucas, Will and Cath reply in unison. Amy finds it so bizarre, how in tune they all are when it comes to these situations.

     "What if they're making something?" he suggests.

     "In themselves?" Max questions. "I mean, come on, if you drink this crap, it'll kill you."

     "Yeah, if you're human..." Lucas counters.

     Amy nods slowly, taking this into account. "If we're going with that theory, then maybe this Mind Flayer thing is trying to change the chemical make-up of its victims. I mean, it seems like an excessive way just to kill people. There must be a purpose for it."

     Nancy turns around, furrowing her brows at something through the open doorway. If the rest of the house looked like it had been frozen in time, it is especially true for the dining room. Half-eaten food and serving dishes sit stale on the table, the sauce all dried up and chocolate chip cookies baked in a ray of harsh sunlight. The lamps are still switched on from the last time the Holloways were here, even though there is no need in the daytime.

On the rug past the table, there is a discarded wine bottle next to a red patch seeped into the fabric. At first glance, it could be a spillage, but something about it doesn't look right. Nancy crouches down and touches the stain with her fingertips.

"Blood," she deduces. "Yesterday, Tom had a bandage on his forehead..."

Nancy holds up the bottle, and Amy can just glimpse a streak of red slashed across the label.

"He was attacked."

"No, no, no..." Cath's voice is barely a whisper, but it is heavy with dread. The group turns around to see the girl stooping to pick something up, a jacket from the floor. She reads the label and then averts her eyes, as if she would rather not see it again.

Amy doesn't need her to read it out to know whose it is. A chill crackles down her spine and makes her jolt.

What happened to you, Felix? she thinks worriedly.

"There's..." Cath pauses, unable to say it. "There's blood on this, too."

She hands the jacket to Amy; her hands immediately turn it over to find the label at its collar, seeing Felix's name etched on there in running ink like it has been for years. The unsettling addition is the red that blots out the end of his surname, a deep rust colour that won't rub off if she tries. Old blood. Amy digs her fingers into Felix's jacket, which even still smells like him and that cologne he always wears. Trying to fight the wave of guilt that overwhelms her, that she didn't know about any of this, and that she has no idea where he could be now.

"I wish I'd said something that night," Cath says, her body completely tense, "if I could have warned him—"

"You couldn't have known at the time," Mike tries to reassure her. "None of you could."

Amy takes such a sharp breath, she almost coughs on it. "Maybe he escaped. We don't know anything else yet. We just have to keep looking, right?" She looks helplessly at Nancy and Jonathan, who are also shaken by the sight of Felix's jacket; they know she is right, the investigation has to continue.

By the other doorway, the rug has folded up on itself like an accordion. Some sort of disturbance must have happened there, the scuffing of feet or something dragging the rug along. Nancy leads the group on its trail, opening the door after it, and the one after that with their breaths held. Follow the blood-red breadcrumbs. It leads them to the garage; there is no car, only coils of frayed rope left sitting like pythons waiting to pounce.

Jonathan crouches to examine the rope. "They must have tied them up. They must have taken them somewhere."

"Mrs. Driscoll..." Nancy recalls. "She kept saying, I have to go back. What if the flaying is taking place somewhere else? There must a place where this all started, right? A source."

"Somewhere he didn't want me to see," Eleven says. By he, Amy guesses she means the Mind Flayer.

"So, if we find this source," Amy concludes, "maybe we can stop whatever this thing is. Stop it before it spreads all over Hawkins."

"How would we even find it?" Cath asks despondently.

"Mrs. Driscoll," Will answers, perking up. "If she wants to go back so badly, why don't we let her?"

━━━━━━

     SNEAKING past the receptionist's desk at Hawkins Memorial Hospital isn't as easy as it looks. Turns out, inconspicuously going unnoticed as a group of nine doesn't work all that well. Cath can already see this plan failing from a mile away.

     "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Excuse me," the receptionist puts her phone call on hold, rising from her seat. "Where do you think you're goin'?"

     Here we go. Everyone freezes in place, and Cath can see the gears quickly turning in Nancy's head as she spins around. She puts on her sweetest, people-pleasing smile for the receptionist. "Oh, um... I was just going to visit my grandma again. You remember my half-sister, right?" says Nancy, gesturing to Amy as she attempts a polite smile, rather less successfully. Apparently this was the story they used to get in and see Mrs. Driscoll last time.

     "And– and this is... my family," Nancy adds, nodding to the whole group.

     The receptionist looks at all of them unconvincingly — Lucas, in particular.

     "Extended," he clarifies with a smile.

     "I don't care who they are," the receptionist sasses back, "you know the rules: two visitors at a time."

     "Yeah, but—"

     "Two!"

     Seeing no way around it, Nancy shoots Amy a guilty look. "I guess... Jonathan and I will go?" she shrugs.

     Amy seems incredulous at being given babysitting duty (which Cath finds pointless these days; she's fourteen, for crying out loud!), but she doesn't complain. "Fine," she sighs, "I'm getting a headache anyway."

     "Then I don't think they will help," Nancy mumbles.

     Luckily for Amy, the gang mostly take care of themselves in the waiting room. The girls flit through magazines, while the boys do their best to salvage snacks from the vending machine. Cath picks up a random lifestyle magazine and opens up on the horoscopes page. Usually she isn't too interested in astrology — she certainly doesn't believe in its predictive powers, since they have never been in her favour — but if nothing else, it gives her a distraction from how unsettled she feels right now.

     "What's that?" Eleven asks, peering at the page.

     "Horoscopes," Cath explains to her. "You have a star sign, depending on the position of the sun when you were born. I'm a Pisces. Anyway, I wouldn't take it for gospel, it's not reliable or anything." She shuts the magazine again with a loud sigh, tossing it back onto the pile again.

     "Aw, come on, you piece of shit!"

     Mike's protest shatters her worries for a moment, drawing Cath's attention to the boy. He and Lucas smack the side of the vending machine in vain, trying to coax a stubborn snack out of it. The whole machine suddenly gives an almighty shudder, sending an avalanche of chocolate bars and more cascading down the chute. Cath looks to her side and sees Eleven staring at them; she nonchalantly wipes a droplet of blood from her nose.

"Thanks," Mike says.

Eleven just nods curtly, getting back to her magazine. Things remain very awkward between her and Mike. Although everything going on has overshadowed the tension, it comes back in these quieter moments where there is little else to focus on.

At least one couple seems to be doing okay. Lucas offers Max some M&Ms, and they start playing a game where he tries tossing them into her mouth. Cath and Eleven sit right at one end of the row of chairs, meanwhile Mike and Will take the other end. Amy sits between them as some sort of unwilling (and non-participating) mediator, her head lulled back and eyelids gently shut as she grasps for any rest she can.

Cath and El are just poring over glossy fashion pages in Cosmopolitan, when the latter suddenly asks: "Cath, how do you know... if two people love each other?"

The question throws her off. "S– sorry?"

"Or, how do I know if I love someone... like that?"

"I'm probably the wrong person to ask," Cath says breathlessly; after all, she's never come close to having a boyfriend, let alone loving one. She shoots a glance over at Mike, who happens to be staring at the girls just then. They both avert their gazes quickly. "But I don't think there's a specific rule about it. I guess you just feel it. When two people are in love, you can see it in their eyes."

"Where?"

"Huh?"

"Where in their eyes?" Eleven asks. "What does that mean?"

Cath opens her mouth to answer, then stops. "I actually have no idea. Maybe people just say that 'cause it sounds romantic." Although, the more she ponders the question, the more she starts to think of a clear example in her mind. "Do you remember the one or two photos you've seen of my parents together?"

Softening a little bit, Eleven nods. She has visited Cath's house once or twice and gazed at the photographs on their mantelpiece. "Pretty," she'd said of Martha in the photos. There had also been a wistful look in El's eyes as she saw how happy her parents looked on their wedding day.

"The way they're looking at each other there... that's love if I ever saw it," Cath concludes.

     Maybe someday, someone will look at me like that, she thinks.

     Cath knows this must be about Eleven and Mike. That must be why she asked about it. She assumes this advice will help things fall into place, but Eleven doesn't seem so sure — she appears more quizzical than anything after what Cath said to her. Since she "dumped his ass" the other day, there must have been plenty of things to reflect on in El's mind, and Mike's too.

     "You should talk to him," Cath gently suggests. "He really wants to make things right, whatever way that is; getting back together or not. I mean, just tell him how you're feeling and see how it goes."

     "Are you sure?" Eleven asks.

     "Positive. You've both been through a lot together. There's a lot of friendship underneath all the boyfriend-girlfriend stuff. And, believe it or not, Mike can be a good listener."

     She allows herself a smile of admission to this. Squeezing her friend's shoulder for good luck, Cath stands up, making Mike sit up alert. He is staring at her with a slightly blank expression, as if waiting for instruction. As subtle as she can, she nods to Eleven sitting there alone, even adding a raise of her eyebrows to make her point: this is your chance! Mike hesitates, half-hovering above his chair, so Cath sighs and mouths, "Go!"

     It finally does the trick, as Mike mouths, "Thank you!" in return. Being the messenger is tiring, but if it can bring some peace in the group, Cath is willing to do it.

While they're waiting, she could do with a bathroom break. "Hey Will, I'll just see if I can go to the bathroom. Can you tell Amy?" she asks; Amy seems so desperate to rest her eyes and block out the background noise, she'd rather not disturb her. Will seems to understand this and nods, daintily peeling back the wrapper on a KitKat bar.

The receptionist, however, is ready to protest again. "You can't go that way!" she squawks mid phone-call.

"I– I just need the bathroom!" Cath stammers, feeling her skin burn hot from being scorned.

"Well, you can't go that way, it's out of order. You'll have to go on the next floor up."

"Thanks..." she mumbles.

She makes her way down the hallway, hearing muffled coughs and squeaking wheels as patients are rolled past her. Whether she likes it or not, Cath has become quite familiar with this hospital the last few years. She has seen Will wake up after his rescue from the Upside Down, her sister sporting a cast on her arm, Mike hobbling out on his crutches... they seldom get out unscathed. Daphne has always detested hospitals. Whilst Cath doubts you can ever like a hospital, she can cope with them far better than her sister. She doesn't know whether being less squeamish now is because of growing up, or what has happened since '83.

Cath takes the elevator to the next floor up, and surely enough, finds an available bathroom near the prayer room. She quickly goes inside and locks it behind her, also relishing the quiet moment to herself in all this madness. There is time as she washes her hands for the doubts to creep in. The anxiety over the Upside Down creeping back into Hawkins, into their world again, and wondering how many times they will keep having to flush it out.

     Drying her hands with a paper towel, Cath opens the door again, but walks straight into a torso stood before her.

     "Oh, I'm so sorry, I— Felix!"

     "Cath," he replies coldly, "fancy seeing you here."

     Her body speeds through three visceral emotions all at once. Embarrassment for bumping into him, which subsides once she recognises Felix, only to plummet into soul-chilling dread when she gets a proper look at him. Felix Rancourt is stood right there in front of her. Yes, it's him; but it's not him. His stare is empty and unmoving, his lips slightly curled into an uncharacteristically depraved smile. Usually so well turned-out, his hair is soaked with sweat and clinging to his skin, the complexion pale grey. Cath notices the raised veins bulging in his skin, no red warmth in them, only dark like ink.

     Realisation drags her down. He's flayed, like the others.

     She can already feel herself grieving when Felix asks, "Where are you off to?"

     Alarm bells ring in her head. Cath feels the sense that danger is right around the corner. "I was just visiting a friend, but I'm leaving now," she makes up. Her guard has risen up, cautious not to disrupt him as she steps forward.

"Isn't that funny," he hums, "I was visiting someone too."

     Felix places his arm on the doorway, blocking her route out; he has her cornered like she's a lost animal. "You need a ride home? It's a long way from the hospital."

     "I'm fine, thank you."

     Cath ducks under his arm and walks briskly — but not suspiciously — down the hallway. Her heart palpitates frightfully against her ribcage, like it's being smothered under a pillow. Just stay calm, she tries to tell herself, stay calm and get out of here. She walks enough distance to seem casual before turning around.

Oh God. He's following her. Slowly, but he has moved.

Trying to keep her blooming panic under wraps, Cath turns the corner and takes a de-tour into the opening elevator. The doors slide closed before Felix can even appear before her. At first, relief washes over her; then something dawns on her. What if he isn't the only one? Mrs. Driscoll is flayed, and so is he. When he said he was "visiting someone", could he have meant her? She isn't taking her chances.

Cath hits the button to the fourth floor, having every intention to warn Nancy and Jonathan. It also puts more distance between her and Felix, buying some time. On the ride up, she takes a deep breath, counting on the inhale and prolonging the exhale...

That's when the lights start to blink around her. Cath clings to the sides of the walls. Please let it be a power outage, and nothing else. She doesn't want to risk her chances of getting stuck in this elevator. She quickly hits the button for the floor she's about to arrive at, cutting her journey short; she can just take the stairs.

The doors slide open, and she walks into a nightmare.

Between flashes of flickering light, Cath glimpses blood streaked on the floor tiles, crimson trails that lead to a nurse in scrubs lying lifeless. The gash on her forehead matches the dripping patch from a fire extinguisher discarded on the ground. Further on, a doctor is slumped against the wall. Only a stone's throw away lies his patient far from her bed, face-down in a pool of her own blood, the IV catheters in her arm useless now.

Cath stares down at the carnage wide-eyed, kneeling before the doctor to check for any sign of life in his eyes. They look empty, no chance of being saved.

She has to get out of here.

Turning on her heel, Cath picks up the pace to find the stairwell. Her gaze pinpoints the end of the corridor as her target. If she can just get to that door and return to the others, she can warn them...

Felix emerges so silently from the corner, walking towards her, and she lets out a gasp. He got here so quickly. Her plimsolls squeak against the tiles, and this time Cath runs. She desperately casts fleeting looks into each room as she passes it, searching for a safe place to hide. When she turns the corner, she chooses the room three doors down — Cath shuts herself in as rapidly as she can, swiftly locking it. For safe measure, she drags a plastic chair nearby and blockades the door with it.

Cath surveys the room, frantically taking in her surroundings. There is a flat bed with a blue curtain drawn around it, and a lone IV drip standing unused beside it. A poster detailing chemotherapy hangs above a small metal trolley holding bottles of medication. And then on the doctor's desk, beside some abandoned files, a phone. Yes!

     She lunges for it and scrambles to dial the number for reception. "Pick up, pick up, pick up..." Cath whispers shakily, looking over her shoulder. All she hears is the dial tone. If that receptionist downstairs is still on the phone to her friend, she swears to God...

     The door starts to rattle ferociously behind her. She twists to see Felix's face hovering there, right in the small glass window. The chair starts to squeak and shift away from the handle. He's going to get in. If Billy could break out during the sauna test, then Felix can certainly break down a flimsy door in a hospital.

     Moments later, it swings open and smacks the walls like a saloon door. Felix's silhouette stands, angular and sharp against the flickering lights, only far more sinister than it has ever looked. Cath drops the phone; it swings to-and-fro by its cord. She holds her breath, engaged in a staring match with him. In his eyes, she forces herself to find any semblance of the boy she knows, just like she did with Will last year. He has to be in there somewhere.

     "Felix, whatever he's telling you, this isn't you," Cath begins.

     He walks forward, and she starts walking backwards, keeping as much distance as she can. Felix lurches his head abruptly, groaning in pain; his skin suddenly wrinkles and distorts like cracked porcelain, his charcoal veins pulsating from the spontaneous gash. It was like he felt a phantom pain.

     "Do you remember me?" she asks, and in one moment, a lump strangles her throat. He used to be so sweet. "I'm Cath. I'm Daphne's sister. Daphne's your best friend. I– I've known you since I was a little kid!"

     "I know who you are," Felix replies, a droplet running down his cheek. She can't tell whether it is his sweat or his tears. "We were hoping you'd be here. He will be so pleased when we bring you back with us."

     Cath keeps backing away, growing more disturbed by the minute. Bring her back? To the source. So she can become one of the flayed. It is now more than ever when she needs her friends. But here she is, just a girl, locked in a room with a face she trusts so well. And he could very well kill her right now, or worse.

     "Felix, please..." she cries.

     Cath is running out of space to leave between them. The walls are closing in on her. She bumps into something solid, and it gives a soft rattle behind her. Her hands blindly feel behind her and meet the cold metal of the medicine trolley. A glimmer of hope. Something wild, it probably won't work, but she has hardly any options.

     Her fingers close around a glass bottle neck. She doesn't tear her eyes away from Felix. Then, as swiftly as she can, Cath smashes the glass bottom against the trolley's side. Glass and liquid medicine showers onto the floor, and in the same swipe, she thrusts the spiked bottle end in the air between them.

     Felix laughs at her quick thinking, not even vaguely threatened. "What are you gonna do with that?" he taunts her. "Go on, I dare you. Twist it in my face. See what happens."

     The broke bottle end trembles in Cath's outstretched hand. She can't do this. How can she, when she is staring at such a familiar face, and yet he is saying these words? Felix steps a pace closer, and she remembers all at once that this isn't him. This is her last chance. Cath braces herself and lurches forward with the broken bottle.

     Felix grabs her wrist before he can even be scratched, the sheer force of it shaking it free from Cath's hand. Urgent pain shoots through her arms in stabbing bursts. She can't hardly fight his strength from the Mind Flayer as he shoves her against the wall, his fists bunching the fabric of her shirt into them.

     "HELP! SOMEBODY—"

     Cath's screams are cut off by his hand clamping over her mouth. "Shut up, you little– urgh!"

     He writhes violently, the motion ricocheting through his every body part, although still holding onto her shirt. Felix's eyes squeeze shut as he heaves breaths, shaking his head wildly. Then all at once, he goes still. His eyes blink open, and land unfocused, but entirely clear onto Cath's — she recognises that shade of brown. Felix doesn't seem to know where he is, or what he has been doing. He regards Cath with a tired familiarity... then he pieces it with his surroundings, the way he has cornered her.

     It hits him then. Felix releases her instantly. He couldn't recoil faster to the other side of the room. Cath looks up to find him sobbing, clutching his head as he weeps in shame.

     "Oh God, I'm so sorry... Cath, I'm sorry... it wasn't me," Felix almost wheezes through his tears. "I– I'd never hurt you, not the real me. It's him. He's inside my head. I– I fight him off, and he keeps coming back..."

     All Cath can do is stare at him, reeling from it all. She feels a moment of retrospective devastation too. A few moments ago, she was going to try and attack him. The thought of him turning back to himself after that makes her stomach turn. She wants to reach out to him, save the real Felix in this moment of clearness.

     Suddenly, Felix is overcome with a gravity that wakes him up entirely. "You have to go," he warns, "there are others here... stronger than me... they'll try and get you too... all of you..."

     "But—"

     "Cath, lock me in and run. Just do it! RUN!"

     Grief-stricken, she obeys Felix's howled commands. She pushes herself up and runs to the door, exiting the room and shutting him alone inside it. "I'm so sorry..." Cath whispers under her breath. What she glimpses in the window — only in a flash — is a sight she knows she'll wish she could forget. Felix crying out on the ground, trying to hit his head and knock himself out.

     Cath has never run so fast up a stairwell after that. Only adrenaline carries her now, her feet pumping down the hallway of the next floor up, as she screams at the top of her lungs:

     "HELP! HELP! NANCY! JONATHAN—"

     She collides with a body, almost knocking her skeleton out of her skin. Cath staggers back and adjusts her eyes to find Amy stood there among the flickering lights.

     "Cath!" she exclaims, "What the hell is going on? I came up to see why they were taking so long, then I hear you screaming, and there's all this blood—"

     "They're here," Cath cuts her off. "The flayed, and– and Felix."

     She can see the grief sink Amy's heart like a lead balloon. Even though she doesn't quite understand what being flayed means, she must know it can't be good.

     "We have to find Nancy and Jonathan!" she adds, already running.

     Thankfully, Amy has the sense to realise that time is of the essence; she doesn't question Cath, running with her through the halls. They pass Mrs. Driscoll's room to find the bed empty and the door left wide open, a smashed flower vase in pieces on the floor. Then where are the others? They push open a heavy door into another corridor, muffled grunts and outcries heard in the distance. Jonathan?

Suddenly Amy skids to a halt, pushing Cath back behind her out of sight. She is about to ask why they have stopped, until she sees her answer — another man, very tall and broad-shouldered, walking in slow laboured steps towards a door. He has the same blackened veins in his sweaty skin, where his blond hair clings in clumps.

"That's Bruce, from the Hawkins Post," Amy barely whispers.

They watch from behind the wall as he looms in front of a door, pushing it open with no effort at all. "Yoo-hoo," Bruce croons quietly, "Nancy Drew... where are you?"

Nancy must be in there. Cath and Amy stare at the door helplessly, trying to think of a way they can fight him or distract him from her trail. Slowly, they creep towards the open door, but far enough away.

"Marco... Marco..."

"POLO!" Nancy cries from the corner.

Confused, Bruce turns around, seeing her charge towards him with a fire extinguisher in her hands. CLANG! — it whacks against his nose, leaving a blackened and decayed gash in his face. The flayed man feels about for his teeth, falling to his knees. Bruce moves at a snail's pace, weakened as he crawls towards Nancy, who only gears up for another attack.

"Go... to... hell!"

THWACK!

She brings the metal canister down on Bruce's skull, making him collapse to the ground. He lies there completely still, a last groan of a breath escaping his lips. Still clinging onto the extinguisher, Nancy stands over his body, panting breathlessly. Cath and Amy rush in and stand beside her.

"What are you doing up here?" Nancy asks, still in shock.

"Looking for you!" Amy cries; she gets another look at Bruce, and turns nauseous. "Holy shit."

"Is he– is he dead?" asks Cath.

Moments later, the answer is no — it's worse. Bruce's body starts writhing and shaking, although he has no control over it. His arms and legs swell up like balloons. By some invisible force, the skin over his flesh starts to peel or melt away, leaving raw hunks in its place. Then those burst and dissolve into puddles of flesh that leak out his shirt sleeves and trousers.

It is just like the rat that exploded on Cath's porch. She clamps a hand over her mouth in disgust, while Amy has actually gone weak at the knees the moment Bruce started to melt away; she clings desperately onto the surgical table in the room for support. The puddle has a life of its own, squelching away towards the door. The three girls follow it slowly, with each gargling move it makes.

At the other end of the hallway is another flesh puddle, followed by a disturbed-looking Jonathan. The two puddles reach out and meet in the middle. Above them, the lights flicker, this thing forming and growing in front of them, starting to touch the top ceiling panels in the corridor...

For a moment, there is silence. Total darkness.

Then a violent roar illuminated by hissing fluorescent lights, the flesh monster standing to its full height — its huge mouth, rows of sharp dagger-like teeth, thick meaty legs and the horrific stench of death and decay. And it is headed straight towards the three of them.

"RUN! RUN!" Jonathan screams at them from somewhere behind it.

It snaps Cath and the others back to reality. They turn around, their backs to a door. On their first attempt to push it open, they are blocked. Desperation rises in Cath's mind as she realises something is blocking them on the other side. "PUSH HARDER!" she hears Amy scream, and they all shove their body weight against it, the cleaning supplies starting to budge. The monster is gaining on them rapidly as it smacks stepladders and wheelchairs to the side in clean swipes of its legs.

Finally the blockade collapses, and they sprint. These corridors are totally abandoned in the midst of being renovated, rooms empty with wood panels and thin curtains hanging loose. Cath is so terrified her feet will slip and she'll fall and be caught, but that doesn't stop her from running; the flesh monster bursts through with an almighty CRASH and is on their tail always.

     Nancy tries the handles on the doors as she goes, finding one unlocked and empty. She ushers Cath and Amy inside, the latter clutching her head and wincing. The room is empty and half-painted, with only one other route for escape through the window. Cath rushes over to it and peers down — it is a long drop from here, not one that any of them could survive. They're stuck.

     "What do we do?" Cath exclaims.

     She doesn't get a response. Instead, all she hears is a faint squelching. Cath slowly turns, seeing the nightmare-turned-reality that Nancy and Amy are also staring at — the flesh monster has dissolved itself, the puddle seeping through the crack under the door. Then it begins to re-form itself, in this small room, blocking the locked door that was their only other safe exit.

     Cath wonders which one of them it will take first.

     Then the most inexplicable thing happens. Amy steps forward, a sharp focus in her eyes. Her arms are slightly outstretched by her sides to shield the other two.

     "What are you doing?" Cath asks incredulously.

     "Amy, get back!" Nancy warns her.

     But she pays no attention, staring the monster in the face. The lights flicker around them even more fiercely than before, and the monster roars in Amy's face, her breathing heavy. Her focus is abruptly shattered — from behind, Cath watches her head snap backwards, her whole body falling like completely dead weight to the floor.

     "Amy? Amy!" Cath cries, kneeling beside her. Shaking her shoulders to rouse her does nothing. When Amy's head lulls to the side, she looks completely gone, blood trickling from her nose and onto her lips. The white of her eyes is barely visible in the slit of her almost-shut eyelids.

     The monster eliminates its next target — it knocks Nancy, making her fly across the room like a ragdoll — until there is just Cath left. She crawls away from Amy, scrambling backwards as it stomps towards her. When her back hits the wall, Cath slides onto the ground, with nowhere else to go. The stench is overpowering and stings her eyes with tears. As the flesh monster drenches her in shadow, its flesh-made saliva dripping onto her shirt, she squeezes her eyes shut.

     When she goes, she doesn't want to be looking at it.

     The flesh monster roars at deafening decibels, the force of it blowing the hair from her face. Cath screams too, but she can't hear it — she only knows because she feels her vocal cords being torn to shreds.

     Something then makes it stop, and Cath gasps for breath. She hears something hit the wall beside her and tumble to the ground. When she dares to open her eyes, she can just make out a door ripped right off the hinges, lying next to the unconscious Amy. And in that open doorway, a group of familiar sneakers and shoes which she knows belong to her friends.

     "Jesus!" she hears Mike gasp.

     "What the fu—" Max says, before chaos drowns it out.

     With one sweep of her hand, Eleven picks up the monster with her mind and throws it to the right wall — BANG! — and then to the left wall — BANG! — and then to the ceiling — BANG! — at which point, Cath knows what's coming next. She scrambles into the corner and cowers split seconds before it comes crashing down again. Her eyes squeeze shut again as she curls into a ball, facing the wall.

     One last push from Eleven sends the monster flying out of the window — CRRRASH! — raining glass shards and ceiling panes around Cath. Her ears are ringing, loud and piercing as she winces. Her other senses start to creep back in bit by bit. She can feel the sweat pouring down her back, her clothes clinging to her skin with the slightest movement.

Something clamps her shoulder. Cath sucks in a breath, whipping her head around so fast it hurts a little. She isn't in danger; Will and Mike are crouched down in front of her. It is Will's hand on her shoulder, his lips moving to say something as he fights back tears, but she can't hear him. Under his gentle grip, Cath realises how her entire body is shaking like a leaf.

Now Mike is saying something, and she still can't hear him, or at least can't focus. He's very worried, looking over her to check for an injury. Cath gulps, and the ringing begins to subside, even though her heart still pounds like a drum in the background.

"Cath, are you okay? Are you hurt?" Mike is asking urgently. She's gone blank; realising he needs an answer, Cath shakes her head. "Are you sure?"

This time, she nods. Cath looks past him and sees Amy slowly coming to, although hardly. It is only due to Jonathan shaking her shoulders that she starts to awaken more. He and Nancy are trying to help her to her feet, despite her protests. But what about the rest of the group? Cath bends her knees, about to plant her hands onto the floor to get up, when Mike grabs them both.

"Careful, careful, there's glass," Mike warns her, softer than before. "Here..."

He and Will thread an arm each under hers, lifting Cath to her feet. They both seem ready to support her, until they notice how much Jonathan is struggling to keep Amy up. He seems to have hurt his back at some point. Mike offers to take his place, swapping and slinging Amy's arm around his shoulders.

They all run downstairs, Cath clinging onto Will's hand as tightly as she can; she feels like she is sleepwalking. Rushing past reception, they push the double doors open and out into the evening air. Eleven, Max and Lucas are waiting for them, relieved to see the rest in-tact, but rather more occupied with something else. There is the huge mass of melted flesh, slurping and squelching down the drain. It spirals and filters down, until only a hunk of bone is left atop the grate.

That image stays with Cath for a while. She thinks of Bruce's puddle, inching towards another one. Who was the other flayed there? That couldn't have been... Felix... could it?

Next to her, a delirious and bleeding Amy throws up on the sidewalk.

━━━━━━

FELIX has taught himself a trick of sorts. He still doesn't fully know what has happened to him, or what he is part of. There are large chunks of time where he can't remember what the hell he was doing, or why he has woken up where he is. Maybe he should have slipped completely under his control by now.

     But he discovered it yesterday. Felix remembers snapping out of it for the first time, finding himself in the kitchen with a glass cup of bleach in his hands. The radio had been on the classical channel, just as he and his mother always liked it. Tchaikovsky's 'Swan Lake' theme had drifted into the deep, dark cornices of his mind, and somehow pulled him out from the abyss; it took him back to watching that ballet for the first time in Toronto. It was the only thing keeping him tethered to the real world.

So when he awoke and saw Cath staring back at him, a picture of pure terror towards him, Felix clung onto that. When he knocked himself out cold to keep her safe, he tried to picture those notes in his head. He imagined Tonya in his arms, alone in the studio with her, completely in harmony with each other's steps. Felix had hidden here for as long as he could.

... Slowly, he awakens to blinking lights above him. He thinks he is him again, if only for a short while.

Felix tries to sit up, but his body protests as pain burns across his limbs. Lifting his hand, as his vision adjusts, he glimpses the skin peeled back from it. Flayed right off. His other hand remains untouched, only polluted by those horrible blackened veins, the darkness that now courses through his bloodstream.

It's taking a physical toll now. While Felix can bide his time mentally, it is only a matter of time before his body succumbs.

How much longer can he keep doing this?

━━━━━━

A/N;

... you see what i meant about this chapter being darker? that second part was so heavy to write, you guys.

so, that cliffhanger with felix... i sort of wanted to play with lore we learned in season 4, where happy memories and the music attached to them can bring you back. felix wasn't part of that flesh monster, and perhaps hadn't been drinking as many chemicals as the other flayed, so he couldn't melt the same way. but as the ending showed, felix can only keep it up for so long.

and poor cath, she really went through it this chapter. no doubt this experience is going to shake her up a LOT. remember, you guys got a glimpse of felix still alive, but she didn't. as far as cath is concerned, he could have been part of that flesh monster as well. (side note, the hospital scenes with nancy, jonathan and the flayed are some of the scariest in the show for me. the melting bodies are one of the few moments where i have to look away! writing it made me feel a little nauseous, not gonna lie)

also amy! what happened there? 👀👀👀 curious to hear your theories, which i'll neither confirm nor deny.

on a lighter note, i think this might be the halfway point of underworld, hooray! the chapters are an odd number but this is more or less halfway. thanks for sticking with me on the journey, i appreciate it so much. i promise the next chapter is (comparatively) a lighter read than this one, or at least not as intense.

— Imogen

[ Published: August 4th, 2025 ]