IT'S NIGHT WHEN THEY REACH REEFER RICK'S HOUSE. 

The sky is pitch black and there's no sound but the humming of the car's engines and the light chirping of crickets. Surprisingly, all of the vehicles passengers stay silent, merely staring out the window at the long patch of forest they were passing, or lost in thought over everything.

Carla sits in the passenger seat—much to Dustin's dismay—staring out at the passing trees, the lake sitting out in the distance. One of her hands rests on the center console, clasped with Steve's. He rubbed a reassuring thumb over her knuckles, the other tapping against the wheel lightly.

Everything down in this area felt so empty, but maybe Carla was just seeing the worst of everything right now. The unease of Chrissy's death and the looming thought of the Upside Down weighs down on the Wheeler's shoulders. She tries to focus on the pressure of Steve's hand in hers to keep from going down that hole. 

The Harrington boy twists the wheel, the car pulling into a driveway of the address Robin had given them at Family Video. A mailbox that sits out front reads 'Lipton' and Carla knows they're at the right place.

Steve parks the car and everyone gets out, curiously scanning over the perimeter of the house. The silence is defeating except the light thud of boots against dirt. Carla pulls her jacket a little closer, feeling the night chill—in every month but summer, Hawkins held a chill. It didn't help the nervous atmosphere that already surrounded the house.

"Carla...."

The Wheeler glances around at the sound of her name, "Hm?"

She looks around and there's no one around her—not even her friends. Her brows furrow as she scans around the perimeter, unable to spot Steve, Robin, Max, or Dustin. She hadn't even blinked......where we they?

"Hey, guys?" Carla starts walking towards the house, looking around for her friends. They wouldn't have just left her outside—Steve would have ushered her in. Someone would have gotten her attention  if she zoned out for a minute, which she didn't. "Guys—"

"Carla..."

There it was again. The whisper of her name.

The Wheeler turns around, eyes widening as the creature from her nightmares stands near Steve's BMW. It's vine covered body squelches and he thuds closer, it's eyes locked on Carla's figure. 

What the hell was happening? 

"Carla." 

Carla flinches, taking a sharp inhale of breath. She quickly whips her head to see Steve standing across from her, a flashlight in his grasp. 

"....Steve." the Wheeler breathes, glancing back. The creature wasn't behind her; her friends were still here. Steve's BMW sits innocently in its parked position and the crickets continue to chirp. Everything was still as it was.

The only odd thing was the pounding in her head, suddenly returning with an even sharper pain. But, Carla hasn't had any Advil since the morning—she wasn't used to a non-helped headache like now, so yeah, it was probably normal to feel a more piercing pain.

"Here's a flashlight. For some reason, Dustin has like....fifty in his bag." She glances down at the flashlight in Steve's grasp and takes it, holding it tightly. Steve doesn't miss how skittish she looks—or the way she flinched when he got her attention. "Baby? You okay?"

Carla shakes off whatever she'd just seen. It was nothing. Just her mind playing tricks on her, trying to scare her. "Yeah. Just thought I heard someone say my name." 

"Come on." Steve grabs her hand, beginning to walk towards the front of the home. Carla follows, still on edge from whatever had just happened. "Dustin's already on my ass about everything."

The couple makes it to the front door where Max and Dustin are already standing. The redhead is shining her flashlight on the doorbell, and the two brunettes follow the action. The Henderson presses his thumb against the small button, a ring echoing through the home. 

A dusty wreath sits on the front of the door but nothing else about the home seems to prove anyone's been there recently to Carla. Her point is proven as no one comes to answer the door, the group sitting in a tense silence.

Dustin presses again—nothing—and again—nothing—before rapidly jamming the button, impatience growing in him by the minute. 

Carla tries to refrain herself from telling the teen to stop, not only for her own sake—the chiming was ricocheting in her head, making the piercing pain worse—but for the sake of the neighbors around. It was late and people had to be trying to sleep, which was definitely not happening if a doorbell was echoing through the silent neighborhood. 

"Okay. Well, that's settled." Steve proclaims, "I guess he's not here."

Dustin switches to banging his fist against the door, screaming for his friend. "Eddie! It's Dustin!" Determination yet panic is heard in his tone as he erratically sounds for the mullet-headed boy. 

"Great." 

"Look, we just wanna talk, okay? No cops, I swear!  We just wanna help!" 

Robin and Max move along the front porch, floor creaking beneath them. They shined their flashlights into the dusty windows, looking for any signs of life within the run-down home. 

"Eddie!" 

Dustin begins to profusely ring the doorbell again. Robin scolds him with a light, "Shhh." 

"Rick! Reefer Rick!"

Steve has to stop himself from throwing a hand over the Henderson's lips, "Don't scream that!"

The Henderson simultaneously rings the doorbell and raps his knuckles against the door, Carla sighing in utter defeat as her headache proceeds. 

"Rick!" 

"Stop—he's not there."

"Reefer Rick!" 

"Dustin, stop being a jackass to the neighbors." Carla huffs, shoving her free hand into her pocket. "The last thing we need is to get kicked out of here because you're being too loud."

Dustin muttered, "He could just be really high." 

Carla tilts her head, "I don't think getting high makes you go deaf, but—"

Steve rubs the crease between his brows as Dustin persists. "It doesn't." 

Dustin suddenly jabs his elbow into Steve's chest, pointing at something with the other. "Is that a foot?"

"No, that's just a shoe—"

"What?"

Carla puts her head in her hands, dramatically sighing. "I am never having kids." 

"Hey, guys?"

The trio on the porch, as well as Robin, all look to the side to see Max standing a little away, flashlight pointing across from her. The four make their way down to her side, all looking forward to see a boathouse a few feet away, a stable and shabby white building with a little light hanging above it.

No words are spoken, the same thought running through each teens head. 

If Eddie wasn't in the house, he had to be in there, right?

Like moths drawn to a flame, the five teens walk towards the shack, flashlights drawn. They shine their lights in the windows and cracks of the house, trying to see what they can spot, but everything is black. 

Robin is the first to reach the door, pushing it open with ease. She peeks her head through, light shining ahead. "Hello? Is anyone home?"

There's no reply, though the whole 'yelling out for the person' was a horror movie cliche. No murderer would reply to that, and while Eddie has flunked senior year multiple times, Carla doubts he's that stupid.

It may seem empty, but that didn't mean it was.

Max followed, Carla filing in after with her boyfriend cautiously behind her. She shined her flashlight around, light refracting off the different items within the boathouse. It was just as quiet as outside was.

 Steve scoffs, "What a dump."

There are spiderwebs in the roof corners and rust on the metal panels. Different items and junk are discarded and cluttered everywhere. Trash and wrappers are mixed within.  There are a few beer bottles together with unfinished projects and boat supplies. Carla smells the light yet distinct smell of pot and she doesn't even want to know what other drugs could be stashed. 

"He probably sells his drugs in here sometimes. I doubt it ever looks nice." Carla replies to her boyfriend, shining her flashlight over the boat that sat in the middle of the boathouse. It was covered in a tarp, and didn't seem like it was of much use to Reefer Rick—it more than likely just sat. 

Steve shrugs. "At least there's not, like, dead weed plants all around."

"You never know." Carla mutters, shining her light against the boat some more. Despite not seeming to be used, it didn't seem to be in bad condition. "Nice boat though—"

As Carla begins to make her comment she's suddenly stopped as the tarp crinkles. Thinking someone is about to jump out, the Wheeler flinches, but she's met with no person. Just an oar, clasped in Steve's grip.

"Jesus Christ." the Wheeler let's out, heart rate lowering. "I thought I was about to be pinned to the wall."

"What are you doing?" Dustin harshly whispers, whipping around with wide eyes. The Harrington thrusts the oar into different spots of the tarp, the crinkle echoing through the quiet boat house. "What are you doing?" 

Steve continues, "He might be in here."

"So take the tarp off!"

"If you're so brave, you take the tarp off!"

Carla rolls her eyes and treads away from her boyfriend and the younger boy, the sound of Steve hitting the tarp echoing through the boathouse. She walks over to where Max is standing, the red head pointing her flashlight at a small table holding candy wrappers and beer bottles.

"Hey, look over here." Max picks up one of the candy wrappers. She gains the attention of not only the Wheeler, but Robin, the Buckley coming to examine. "Someone was here."

"Maybe heard us." Robin concludes, "Got spooked and ran."

Carla thinks back to the knocking and ringing that had preceded their venture into the boathouse. If she was wanted for murder, she sure as hell wouldn't want to stay after hearing all that, especially if it was hard to hear voices. She'd flee thinking it were the cops. 

With a shrug she admits, "I wouldn't blame him. Dustin has been rather scary today." 

"I heard that." the Henderson states unimpressed before looking at the three girls with a sarcastic smile. "But, don't worry. Steve will get him with his oar!"

Flashlight shining against the ceiling from its position in his back pocket, Steve continues to attack the tarp, unamused with Dustin's side comment. "I know you think you're being funny, Henderson, but considering the fact that everyone in this room has nearly died about a hundred times, one having actually died, personally, I don't find it funny in the slight—"

Before anyone can even blink, the tarp shuffles and figure emerges from underneath. There's a loud and shrill screech and Carla leaps back, dropping the flashlight from her grasp, not even reacting to the clatter as her adrenaline spikes. 

"Wait, wait, wait, wait—"

The Wheeler can barely process what's happening before she hears the helpless protests of her boyfriend. Whatever had jumped out from the tarp is ramming him backwards, the two figures moving so fast it's blurry. 

There's a loud slam and Steve's back hits the metal on the back wall. The Harrington's boys eyes are wider than ever and his chest rises and falls rapidly, pupils locking in on the hand that's clamped around his collar and the other that that holds the sharp edge of a beer bottle to his throat in place of a knife, threatening to slice the skin that beneath.

It takes Carla a moment to process who just happened, but it all comes together quick. Ripped jean vest, unruly curls displaying a mullet down his back—Eddie Munson.

The realization of who it was didn't help her anxiety at all. In fact, it made her nerves grow worse. As far as they knew, this was Chrissy's cold-blooded killer and now he had a knife-of kinds-pressed against her boyfriends neck. 

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Eddie!" Dustin comes trampling over to the scene, stopping a few feet away as the Munson lets out another cry in Steve's face. Carla rushes over, stopping behind the Henderson's throw out arms, eyes locked on the sharp edge against Steve's throat. "Eddie, stop!"

Eddie's head whips around, doe eyes widened in true and utter fear. Despite the weapon in his white-knuckle fists, his hands are shaking and he looks more scared of them than anything. His eyes erratically dart between the four teens behind him, like he's afraid to trust them.

"Eddie! Eddie! It's me! It's Dustin!" Dustin tries to make his voice sound as calm as possible, though it's difficult, and his words still rush out panicked as he tries to get the Munson boy to stop before he hurts Steve. "This is Steve. He's not gonna hurt you. Right, Steve?" 

Steve doesn't blink as he hurriedly whispers, "Right. Yeah."

"Steve, why don't you drop the oar." 

As if it's Steve was the problem here. Carla had to stop herself from trying to get to Eddie herself because she'd certainly get hurt, and that would only make the problem worse—Steve wouldn't hesitate fighting the Munson if he hurt her with that beer bottle.

Steve looks like he's debating dropping his weapon of choice before he lets the item go, the oar clattering on the floor. The sound causes Eddie to flinch and his grip on the bottle gets tighter pressing even further into the Harrington's throat. 

A sound of some kind leaves the back of Carla's throat at the sight and a pained groan leaves Steve's at the contact, his face seizes up, eyes squeezing closed and teeth gritting together. 

God, is this what Steve felt like when he watched her bleed out on the Byers porch in '83? How he felt when she just collapsed last summer and died? Carla can't even stop herself as she comes forward, voice coming out weak, "Eddie—"

"He's cool!" Dustin holds the girl back with his arm, wanting to handle the situation himself. Eddie would listen to him.  "He's cool!"

"I'm cool man, I'm cool." Steve mutters, voice slightly raspy from not being able to take a proper breath. He looks between the sharp bottle edge and Carla's panicked gaze. 

Eddie's voice is trembling as he speaks, "What are you doing here?"

Carla finds it odd to hear the Munson speak without his usual bravado and proud, his current voice skittish and shaky. Nothing like the booming yells he'd showcased the other day at lunch. 

"We're looking for you." Dustin admits.

Robin shakily adds, "We're here to help."

"Eddie, these are my friends." the Henderson boy speaks, holding eye contact with the Munson, afraid that if he didn't, Eddie would fall right back into whatever fear-driven state he seemed to be locked in. "You know Robin from band." He turns so Eddie can see the Buckley, who wiggles her fingers and buzzes to mimic playing a trumpet, as if the boy would picture her in her band uniform and recall her. "This is my friend Max, the one who never wants to play D&D." Max gives a cold wave, and Dustin finally points to the Wheeler girl behind him. "You've seen Carla. My old babysitter? The one who's dating Steve?" 

Carla will take those reputations if it gets her boyfriend out of Eddie's hold. She can't even smile at the Munson boy with how worried she is, and only spares him a small glance.

"Eddie. We're on your side." Dustin doesn't know how much longer he can reason and reassure because he's even scared for Steve's life. Eddie doesn't budge and the Henderson cries out, "I swear on my mother! Right, guys?!"

Max agrees, "Yes, yes, we swear."

"On—on Dustin's mother." Robin stutters, and Carla nods her head in agreement. 

Steve stammers weakly, "Yeah, Dustin's.....Dustin's mother."

 The silence is loud and tense as everyone waits for Eddie's next move. To Carla, time seems to drag on forever as the Munson debates his decision. Dustin's hands are tensely splayed, mouth open, almost ready to start pleading.

Steve squeezes his eyes shut, almost ready for the bottle to slit his throat.

Finally, Eddie lets go and steps away. Steve falls back, letting out a grunt as all pressure is released from his throat. "Jesus Christ..."

Carla feels a weight lift off her shoulders as the Munson moves away, heart steadily returning to a solid rhythm as her anxiety washes away. She quickly pushes past Robin, bee-lining for Steve, who hunched over a nearby stool.

While not pinned anymore, Steve's still tense. He's breathing heavily, hand rubbing over the spot where Eddie had pressed the broken glass against. 

"That was fucking insane." Carla whispers under her breath, standing in front of Steve. At the moment, any remorse for Eddie and how scared he looks is gone—he'd just about hurt her boyfriend. "Are you okay?" 

Carla doesn't press, giving her boyfriend a moment to breathe and steady himself once again. Eddie shakily lowers himself down on the floor, eyes still darting around as if he'd been the one who was attacked.

"I'm fine, baby." Steve breathes out, rubbing a hand over his throat to try and ease the ache that lingered. "Just fine." 

"No, let me see." Carla gently moves his hand away, stepping to stand in between his legs. His hand falls to the side of her waist and the Wheeler curls her hand under his chin, tilting his head upwards to examine the skin beneath. She gently moves his head to the side, the boy's eyes lightly closing as she examines the skin to make sure there was no blood or small cut from Eddie's bottle.

The Harrington doesn't finish letting her look, instead lowering his forehead against her chest, still trying to catch his breath. Carla brushes her fingers through his hair, glancing over at what was happening in the corner. 

"Eddie." Dustin crouches down in front of the trembling boy. The Munson doesn't meet his gaze. He's a shell of the boy he usually is—he looks mentally out of it, forever afraid with the horror that's etched into his face. Suddenly, Carla does feel pity for the boy because clearly whatever happened has truly fucked him up. "We just want to talk."  Dustin reaches to touch his hand but Eddie flinches, "Okay."

Robin slowly comes forward to, crouching down. "We want to know what happened."

Eddie shakes his head; what he'd seen was insane—no one in their right mind would ever believe him! They'd  send him to the psych ward, tell him that he was just trying to make things up to deny that he was the true killer of Chrissy Cunningham. 

With a sniffle, the Munson says, "You won't believe me."

Carla wants to scoff—'you won't believe me' her ass. She could only wish she wouldn't believe whatever the Munson boy has to say. 

Pulling away from Steve, the girl squeezes in between Dustin and Robin, kneeling down on the floor in front of the boy. Eddie watches her do so. 

Carla doesn't falter as she lifts up her sleeves, putting her wrists up to reveal her scarred skin—her mark from the Upside Down. "Try us." 

Eddie explains what happened and Carla feels sick to her stomach.

For the past fifteen minutes, the Munson boy has been slowly and shakily explaining what happened. Carla, Steve, Robin, Max, and Dustin have stayed silent, genuinely listening to what the boy had to say. They took in details, made notes, tried to figure out if this was the Mind Flayer. 

The Munson boy had been selling drugs to the cheerleader—which surprised Carla, but then again, she didn't know Chrissy. After the basketball game, they met up at his trailer, where Eddie went to hunt for the drug the Cunnigham asked for, to which he had to go and search for, leaving her in his living room.

He wasn't even gone for five minutes, but when he returned, Chrissy was standing eerily still. Her eyes were glossed over and she was blinking erratically. He tried to get her attention and the lights started to flicker—the group all looked at each other hearing the telltale sign that the Upside Down was involved with something. 

He tried shaking her, snapping, slapping her face. Chrissy stayed locked in whatever trance she was in.

"Her body just, like, lifted up into the air, and uh...." Eddie's lips trembled as he spoke. "And she just, like, hung there. And her bones, uh..." An almost sob escaped his throat and his eyes squeezed shut as he struggled to replay the image in his mind. Whimpers left his lips as images flashed through his head. Chrissy's limbs snapping. Her eyes being pulled from the sockets. Her jaw breaking.  "Her bones started to snap." 

Carla shakes her head. She thinks of the broken jaws and bloody sockets she saw in her dream. The figures floating in the air. Her own figure, floating in the air. 

"Her eyes, man." Eddie continued, trying to explain as well as he could but it didn't even make sense to him. "It...it was like there was something, like, inside her head, pulling."

Everyone stayed deathly quiet. They'd seen a lot over the years, but this? This was simply horrifying. Something no one should ever see or receive the trauma from. 

"I...I didn't know what to do, so I....I ran away. I left her there. "

 The Munson feels guilty for it. Speaking with Chrissy, he realized that she had more baggage then she let people see. She was a real human, a good human. He actually had a soft spot for her and her strawberry blonde ponytail and crooked smile. He felt like Chrissy saw him, despite their brief interaction. 

Yet, he'd just left her there. With her broken limbs and bloody sockets. Left her to rot. 

Eddie scoffs, closing up again. "You all think I'm crazy, right?"

Dustin immediately shakes his head. "No. We don't think you're crazy at all—"

"Don't bullshit me, man! I know how this sounds!" Eddie's voice cracks as he yells, eyes holding back tears. He knows how it all sounds; how weak and pathetic his voice is, how psychotic his story sounds. 

Max firmly states, "We're not bullshitting you."

Robin leans forward, "We believe you." 

"We haven't seen that, but, we've seen things too." Carla pipes up from where she's standing, sending the Munson a look of understanding. "Other things no one in Hawkins would ever believe."

Eddie looks down at the floor. He doesn't want their looks of pity. 

"Look, what I'm about to tell you might be a little....difficult to take." Dustin admits. He hates having to drag another outsider into the mess that they've been stuck in since '83, but Eddie deserved to know. It would help him understand.

The Munson looks up again, "Okay."

"You know how people say Hawkins is....cursed? They're not way off." the Henderson continues. Eddie's brows furrow—he knows what people say about the town but how did that have go with Chrissy's bones snapping? "There's another world. A world hidden beneath Hawkins. Sometimes it bleeds into ours."

Eddie furrows his brows. "Like ghosts and shit?"

Carla thinks of the Demogorgan pinning her to the wall. The Mind Flayer standing over her at the hospital, screeching in her face. A possessed Billy with black veins choking her. "Worse."

Eddie doesn't want to picture worse. 

"These monsters from this other world....we thought they were gone. But they've come back before, and that's why we needed to find you."

The Mayfield states, "If they're back again, we need to know." 

"That night, did you see anything?" Robin speaks up curiously.

"Dark particles, maybe?"

"Did Chrissy have black veins? Was she acting weird when you took her to your trailer?" Carla thinks of Billy. Maybe the Mind Flayer was back to possessing, but this time, he killed his victims like that? 

Eddie shakes his head but Dustin presses, "It would almost look like dust, swirling dust."

"No, man, there was nothing you could see or, uh, or touch." Eddie paused for a second. He thinks of Chrissy again and mutters, "You know, I tried to wake her, man. She couldn't move. It was like she...she was in a trance or something."

Dustin perks up, straightening up in realization. "Or under a spell." 

"A curse." Eddie understood what the Henderson boy meant.

"Vecna's curse." 

Carla opens her mouth to ask who Vecna is—D&D related, no doubt, but who— but suddenly it feels like her head is being split in two. The Wheeler winces, bringing her hand to her temple. What the hell? 

The pain is almost overwhelming. She's had this headache for what felt like forever, but never had it ever grown into this. 

Steve, focused on Eddie, doesn't notice the action from his girlfriend and instead questions, "Who's Vecna?"

"An undead creature of great power." Dustin feels his heart drop in his chest. They'd fought the Demogorgans and dogs, the Mind Flayer.....yet none of them compared to the power that Vecna held. 

"A spell caster." Eddie whispers unnervingly. 

"A dark wizard."

Carla doesn't like the sound of that at all. 

mara's misc!

i've actually had this chapter ready for a few days but i forced myself to wait 

guys everyone clap because i've FINALLY found for motivation for this book. i've been writing for the past few days and it's felt so good to get back into the groove of starla. i've missed my baby carla even tho i only came back to give her hell :)

speaking of hell, what do we think carla's favorite song would be?? anything before spring of '86 works :)

anywho, i gotta go off to school shopping so....

hope you enjoyed <3 see you back with chapter 6!!