CARLA IS FALLING. 

One moment, she was climbing the make-shift rope. Steve was helping, offering words of encouragement as she struggled to support herself with her bad arm. Her shoulder was blooming with pain, but she managed to haul herself to the gate. She managed to haul herself up the gate, and flipped back into the real world, preparing to feel the mattress under her. 

Except she never did. She kept falling. 

The world around her turned into a black abyss, full of nothing. Eyes wide with panic, Carla's body just plummets down with no end—there's nothing for her to grab onto, no one for her call out to. She's just falling. Down. Down. Down.

She screamed, or at least she thought she did, but the sound was swallowed by the void. Her body plummeted into the abyss, her heart pounding as panic surged through her veins. It felt like she was falling forever, yet at the same time, it felt like it had only been a few seconds. 

And then, suddenly, she hit the ground.

A moan left her lips, pain exploding through her body as she slams against something hard and cold. The air rushed out of her lungs with a choked gasp, and her head throbbed. Her entire body erupted in an ache at the harsh landing.

Slightly shaking, Carla gets onto her knees. Her fingers shake against the rough and frigid cement below her. She groaned, forcing herself to stay up despite the agony radiating through her limbs. 

Her vision blurred, swimming with dark spots, but as Carla looked up, she recognized her surroundings.

The Hawkins Community Pool.

More specifically, the supply closet.

There's a dingy light flickering above her, the supply closet closed. She's in the center of it, surrounded by cleaning supplies and shelves. There's a distinct smell of cleaning supplies and chlorine. It's set up the same way it was when she came in to help Billy last summer. When she was assaulted. When she was almost taken to the Mind Flayer and killed. 

Vecna. 

It's the first thing that Carla can think off as she comes to terms with where she is. For the past week, he's been talking to her—telling her that her time was soon. She's gotten visions of what the future for herself and the others would be. She's already seen Billy, listened to him tell her she was next.

As much as Steve or the group didn't want to believe it, she was cursed. Maybe more cursed than Max. Try as they might, her time would come—Carla knew better than to think Vecna would let her go.

This must be it. Vecna must have finally came for her.

"Miss me?"

The door clicks open and Carla feels her stomach twist when Billy Hargrove's figure appears. 

His flayed, black vein covered figure steps out of the shadows. His pale, bloodshot eyes lock onto her, and his lips curl into a haunting grin. He closes the door behind him, and Carla is quick to stand up, as if standing her ground hides her trembling lip. 

 "You're not real." Carla whispers, voice weak. She doesn't know what to do—Max had music. She can only pray that her friends are trying to find a song she enjoyed. "You're not him."

Billy chuckles darkly, tilting his head as he watches her. "Real or not, I'm here, aren't I?" 

Carla doesn't know what to do. Vecna is wound deep in her mind—rooted there. How is she supposed to escape him? All she can do is stare at Billy, trying to stop herself from shaking because as much as she hates to admit it, she's scared.  She's fucking terrified of Billy Hargrove after what he did to her last summer. 

"Why so scared, sweetheart?" Billy can see her fear, his voice turning a mocking sweet. "Isn't this what you wanted?"

Carla's breath hitches. Her heart pounds painfully in her chest. "What?"

"You don't have to lie to me, Carla. To him." the Hargrove takes another step closer, and she flinches despite herself. "He knows the thoughts you keep locked away. The ones you don't even tell Harrington about."

No. No. No.

"You're not real." Carla repeats, like it's what's going to save her. Billy wasn't real. He didn't know anything. Vecna was just trying to get inside her head. "You're dead."

 "And you should be too, right?"

The Wheeler feels her body stiffen. The guilt she's tried so hard to suppress rises to the surface, clawing at her throat.

"You should've died that night." Billy continues, still smirking. "And you know it. Don't you?"

"No—"

"Admit it," Billy sneers, attacking the Wheeler in front of him. "You wish you were dead. You don't have to lie. Vecna's heard it all—your darkest thoughts, the ones you're too ashamed to even admit to yourself. The ones where you just wish you could disappear. He knows how much you're suffering, Carla. How much you hate yourself for still being here. How you're just waiting for him to save you."

Tears blur Carla's vision. God, she's pathetic. "You're not fucking real."

Billy steps closer, towering over her. Taunting. His lip curls into a sneer, venom dripping from his words. "How could you think that? Huh?" he demands, his tone sharp and accusatory. "How could you ever think about leaving your family? Your friends? Steve."

His words hit Carla like blades, piercing right through her skin. Vecna was getting right through her.

"What a selfish little bitch you are."

Carla tries to be strong, but her heart is pounding against her rib-cage and tears threaten to fall from her eyes as the suffocating weight of Billy's words presses down on her. She wants to shrink back, to escape, but there's nowhere to go. The darkness surrounding her is closing in, and with every cruel word, it feels like the walls are getting smaller.

 "Would they still want you if they knew? Would your friends still want you if after all this fighting, they found out you've been waiting for death? Would Steve still love you if he knew you've been wanting to leave him?"

"Stop." 

"They think you're a burden, Carla." the Hargrove continues on with his harsh words, each a deeper blow to the Wheeler's frail figure. "You know they do. You've felt it, haven't you? That look in their eyes. The pity. The exhaustion. They're tired of fighting for you. Fighting for a girl who doesn't even want to live." 

Carla wants to live. She knows she does. She's had moments of darkness, but she knows she has something to live for—for a future as a doctor where she can help everyone, for the kids to see them grow up and be happy, for her sister and brother, for Steve and the future they still have together to have a family. She wants to live for that, right? Right?

....Or maybe Vecna was right.

The weight of Vecna's words, Billy's cruel taunting, gnaws at her insides like a relentless storm. Was she just kidding herself ? Was it all just a facade? The amount of smiles she forced, the fake reassurance she tried to give others that she was fine seemed to say that maybe she was just trying to tell herself she wanted to live. 

Stop letting him get to you. 

She was better off dead. Didn't mean she wanted to be. 

"You don't deserve them. You never have. They deserve better than someone who doesn't want to fight for herself, who constantly puts them in danger after danger and doesn't seem to care." He scoffs, "Do you think Steve wants to settle with someone who's broken? He deserves someone better than you and you know it."

Steve loves her. He wouldn't lie. He wouldn't.

"No." Carla's voice cracks, desperation clawing at her throat. She looks up at him, fighting through the haze of guilt and pain. "I— I don't want to die. I don't."

Billy comes to stand in front of her, hand coming up to cup the side of her face. It's cold. It's not what she's used to—she wishes his hand was Steve's, reassuring her that she was loved and safe. 

"You're so tired, Carla." Billy's voice is softer now, knowing. Carla turns away from his hand,  eyes closing as to not meet the boys piercing gaze. He speaks like he knows her and she hates it. Even if he's right. "Tired of pretending to be okay. Tired of being a burden. He understands. He wants you, but he wants to save you from this suffering."

Carla is tired. 

She's been tired for the last four years. Every year, she can feel the exhaust weighing down on her shoulders, taking away her joy. She's not the innocent sixteen year old she was before the Upside Down ruined her life. She doesn't smile the same. She's matured in all the wrong ways. 

The Upside Down has left her missing out on so much—on the final years of her childhood, for starters. She's soon-to-be nineteen years old and Carla feels like she's missing four years worth of her childhood. Vecna has taken so much from her and her friends. He's scraped her away from her real life and forced her into four years of a hell she'd wish upon no one else. 

Billy's words are a twisted comfort. He wants to save her, he says, but Carla knows better. She knows what Vecna's help really means. It's not salvation. It's not freedom. It's a cruel way to end it all, to drag her from everything and everyone who has ever loved her. To turn her into the one thing she has been fighting for the last four years. 

Vecna wouldn't save her. He would take everything from her—her life, her future, her family. He'd make sure she never got to be the person she could've been, that she wants to be. And as much as she's hurting, as much as she wants to surrender, Carla knows she can't give him that victory.

She's tired, but she doesn't want that kind of end. She doesn't want to be taken away from her friends, from her sister, from Steve.

She has to fight. She just needs to survive.

"It's nice to finally see you here, Carla."

Carla opens her eyes to see that she's in a new location. Yet, it's just as familiar.

She's standing on a staircase within the red world that Max had drawn, the place that the Mayfield claimed she'd seen when she was being taken over by Vecna. 

The world in its entirety is in a red hue—the ground, the sky, everything is red. A clock ominously chimes and she looks to the side to see a grandfather clock, like the one she had seen at Hawkins High, levitating in the air alongside debris of kinds. 

This was Vecna's world.

Carla starts walking down the staircase she's standing on, almost drawn to keep walking but something she can't explain. 

"I see you and your friends have been looking for me." Vecna's voice echoes throughout his world, just like Dustin's came through the walls. Carla looks around the red, searching for his figure, but she's unable to spot it. "You were so close. So close to the truth. What did your sister say about old, dumb, blind, Victor? Did he miss me? I've been meaning to check back in, but I've been busy."

Chrissy Cunningham's body hangs from a tree, her mangled body wrapped in vines. Carla feels her face flinch at the sight and she quickly averts her eyes. The painfully opened and dislocated jaw and sucked out eyes stick to the front to of her mind. She wishes she could forget the image of the cheerleaders dead body, but she knows it'll always haunt her.

Across from it is Fred's. Behind it is Patrick's. There's an empty vine wrapped tree. Carla can only assume it's made for her or Max. She'd rather it be her's. 

"So very busy." 

As he speaks, a door suddenly comes into view. Carla's eyes lock on the stained glass rose that sits in the middle, revealing it as the front door to the Creel house—it's more technicolor than it was in the real world, not grayed with age. It looks lively. Welcoming. 

"I've been wanting to show you something, Carla." Vecna bellows, Carla cautiously stepping towards the Creel door. "You and your sister are both rather smart, but you're more valuable than her to me. After all, you're connected."

The Wheeler's hand outstretches towards the golden door handle. For a moment, she can't help but feel like opening this door could be selling her life away—Vecna wanted her to open it. Why would she do something Vecna wanted?

But, she feels like she has to. She's being urged to do it by something she can't describe, that she can't fight. 

Carla opens the door and the world around her shifts once more.

No longer is she standing inside Vecna's red world, but now, she stands inside of the Creel house. She's standing where the group had stood a few days ago, distributing flashlights. Except now, the house is filled with sunlight. It looks nice, nothing like the haunted house Hawkins had learned to fear.

The door clicks open again and four people come in. From the photograph Carla had looked at in the house, she recognizes them as the Creel family themselves.

"What'd I tell you?" Victor Creel, man of the family, announces as he steps inside the home. Two children and a blonde woman follow after him, eyes wide in awe as they take in the house. Their new house, Carla assumes, based on their expressions.

Vecna has taken her back to when the Creel's just moved in. Why? 

Virginia Creel murmurs, "Wow." 

"This is amazing!" The small girl, Alice—the youngest of the family—runs forward, voice full of excitement as she takes in her new home. A smile graces her innocent face. "It looks like a fairy tale! A dream."

Alice rushes up the stairs. Her mother scolds, "Alice, no running!"

"It's so big!"

Victor wraps an arm around Virginia, who chuckles at Alice's eagerness. He can picture a nice life here. "This is nice."

Virginia agrees. "Yeah." 

"Yeah." 

Carla looks past the couple at the little boy who stands behind them. Henry. He has the same piercing eye stare as he did in the photograph, and the Wheeler felt just as creeped out by it. She knew his eyes, even though he lived and died decades before her.  She's seen them before.  Felt them lurking on her. 

"I didn't fit in with the other children. Something was wrong with me. All the teachers and the doctors said I was....broken. My parents thought a change is scenery, a fresh start in Hawkins, might just cure me. It was absurd. As if the world would be any different here." 

Henry starts walking away from his parents, and Carla is obliged to follow. She's curious about why Vecna would take her to his first victim's house. The house is completely normal compared to the dust and cobwebs it had been filled with in the real world. Somehow, seeing the Creel house without its rotten exterior and dim interior is more eerie than the haunted house itself. 

"But then, to my surprise, our new home provided a discovery. And a newfound sense of purpose." 

The Wheeler watches as Henry enters the bathroom and kneels down onto the floor, pulling off a vent from the floor. He stares down inside it intently, gently lowering his hand inside, and when his limb returns, a black widow is perched in his palm. 

"I found a nest of black widows living inside a vent. Most people fear spiders; they detest them. And yet, I found them endlessly fascinating. More than that, I found a great comfort in them. A kinship." 

Carla can barely react to how casually he's holding a spider when there's a shuddering whoosh from behind her. The Wheeler flinches at the sound and whips around to see another Henry Creel running towards his attic, clearly another memory than the one holding the spider.

"Like me, they are solitary creatures and deeply misunderstood. They are gods of our world. The most important of all predators."

Carla follows the boy, treading upstairs into the attic. She finds him sitting amongst jars and candles, expecting the prior with integrity. Different spiders sit in each of the jar, Henry examining each with a gentleness. A quietness. Understanding. 

"They immobilize and feed on the weak bringing balance and order to an unstable ecosystem."

Henry puts a jar down and picks up a sketchpad and a pencil, shading in a delicate drawing of a black widow. 

Carla is almost reminded of Will's drawings of the Mind Flayer. 

"But the human world was disrupting this harmony. You see, humans are a unique type of pest. Multiplying and poisoning our world all while enforcing a structure of their own. A deeply unnatural structure. Where others saw order, I saw a straitjacket."

A clock ticks. The Wheeler walks back down the attic stairs and see's another Henry Creel standing in front of the grandfather clock that had scared Max. He looks up at it like it's something more than an item that tells time. 

"A cruel, oppressive, world dictated by made-up rules. Seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years, decades. Each life a faded, lesser, copy of the one before. Wake up, eat, work, sleep, reproduce, and die. Everyone is just waiting. Waiting for it all to be over. All while performing in a silly, terrible, play day after day." 

Henry doesn't blink as he stares at the ticking clock. Carla feels like there's something more Vecna is trying to show her. 

"I could not do that. I could not close off my mind and join in the madness. I could not pretend. And I realized, I didn't have too."

A distorted chime rings through Carla's ears, and her brows furrow as the hands of the clock started to rapidly move backwards. 

"I could make my own rules. I could restore balance to a broken world. A predator, but for good."

She looks at the boy and eyelids are closed, eyes rapidly moving back and forth. Back and forth. It's clear the boy is controlling the clock with his mind, just like Eleven.   

No.

 A shriek echos and the Wheeler looks back to find herself transported outside, where she's forced to endure the panicked chittering of something. One look down, and she sees a rabbit struggling to run away, a string tied to its limb, forcing it backwards. 

"As I practiced, I realized I could do more than I possibly imagined. I could reach into others; into their minds; their memories."

Henry approaches the trapped animal, crouching down. He outstretches a hand and suddenly, the creature starts mewling in pain, seizing. A paw goes sideways. Its tail bends in the wrong direction. It's perky ears snap down. It's eyes get sucked away by unseen forces.

Just like Chrissy. Fred. Patrick.

Everything hits Carla at once, and her stomach drops in horrible realization.

Henry Creel is Vecna.

This is what Vecna was trying to show her—this is where it all began. This child, the boy with the disturbing eyes, was the seed of the horror that had plagued Hawkins for so long. Henry Creel was Vecna. 

Carla feels pale as she watches Henry's eyes flicker with a cold, calculating focus. He stands over the rabbit like a god, controlling it with the same malevolent force that he would later use on countless others. The realization is like a choke-hold on her chest, suffocating her.

The red world came together to create the Creel house because it was Vecna's house. He lived within the Upside Down version of the home because it's his. Victor Creel is his only survivor because he's his father. 

God, how did her and Nancy not put this together? 

Vecna, this monstrous predator, had been born out of a broken, warped sense of order. His mind, twisted by years of isolation and rejection, had grown into something far worse. He had seen the world as a prison and had decided to become the warden.

Vecna was Henry Creel. 

Carla's backing away from the rabbit and the young boy without even thinking, running for the house. She doesn't know what she's doing—Vecna wanted her to find out the truth, and now she did. 

"I became an explorer. I saw my parents as they truly were. To the world, they presented themselves as good, normal, people. But like everything else in this world it was all a lie. A terrible lie. They had done things. Such awful things."

When Carla opens the door to the house, she's immediately met with a baby wailing. Concerned, she stares into the living room to see Victor Creel sitting in a rocking chair, horrified. In the fireplace, sits a baby crib. Burning. 

"I showed them who they really were. I held up a mirror." 

God, Carla needs to get out of here. She knows the truth now. What else does she need to know?

"My naive father believed it was a demon cursing them for their sins. But my mother somehow knew. Knew it was I who was holding up that mirror, and she despised me for it." 

Music starts playing from the dining room—'Dream A Little Dream'. It's a haunting melody with everything Carla has seen, and she approaches the room with caution. The house is dimmer now, lit up by yellow lamps instead of the natural sunlight now that it was dark outside. The family of four sits around a dinner table.

The music starts to glitch out, and Victor gets up to mess with the radio. Henry looks at his other with the same look as he had with the clock and the rabbit—the same hateful, calculated, stare.

"She called a doctor, an expert. She wanted him to lock me away, to fix me. Even though it wasn't I who was broken, it was them. And so she left me with no choice. No choice but to act. To break free." 

The lights above start to flicker, energy thrumming. Carla can't help but shake her head, knowing. She has to look away as Virginia rises into the air, screaming as her bones cracked and her eyes disappeared. She fell back onto the table with a thud.  

Henry wipes his bloody nose with no ounce of guilt at all. 

Victor didn't kill his family. Henry did. 

"With each life I took, I grew stronger. More powerful. They were becoming part of me." 

Victor carries his two kids out into the hall, but the young boy manages to use his powers again to lock his father and sister into a trance of kinds. Alice falls dead on the spot. Victor just stands in front of the door, stuck. 

"But I was still a child. I could not yet know my limits. And it nearly killed me." 

Without warning, Henry falls limply to the ground. He had pushed past his limits, and needed to recharge—just like El always had too.  Victor snaps out of the trance and looks back to see his entire family gone, quickly running over to hold his son in his arms. 

There's a thud and she looks down the hall to see another Victor being held against the wall, police cuffing his wrists.

It's unfair. Unjust. Victor Creel wasn't the monster he'd been framed to be—he hadn't killed his family. He was just a traumatized father and husband who'd been driven into madness by the horror he saw. A man who didn't deserve to be locked up in Pennhurst for life. 

"He was arrested, blamed for the death of sister and mother just as I had planned. But I was far from free."

The scene changes and suddenly Carla is standing in a hospital room. Monitors beep and a man with brown hair stands, looming over Henry's unconscious form.

"I woke up from my coma only to find myself in the care of a doctor, the very doctor I had hoped to escape. Dr. Martin Brenner. But the truth.....the truth is he did not just want to study me. He wanted more. He wanted to control."

She blinks and it's a new scene. Carla is standing outside a room, watching through glass as a man tattoos something onto Henry's arm. A number. 

Just like the one tattooed on Eleven's arm. 

"When he finally realized he could not control me, he tried to recreate me. He began a program. And soon, others were born."

Others. Like El. 

"All done." Brenner sets down the ink, wiping over the number upon Henry's wrist. "Not so bad, was it? See? There's nothing to be afraid of. Is there, Carla?" 

Carla feels her figure tense as her name is mentioned. This was no longer Vecna's past—she was back inside his curse. Brenner seems to step out of his mold within the past, almost breaking the fourth wall as he looks up at the Wheeler. His eyes are darkly clouded over, and when he speaks, his voice is distorted. Vecna. 

"It's about time you finally took a seat." 

Fuck that. 

Carla starts running in the other direction before Vecna can say anything else to her. The lights flicker on and off above her as she darts down the nearest hall, her eyes darting around for any way out. Bodies are on the floor, blood is smeared all over the wall. 

The Wheeler is reminded of when she was forced to run through the hospital last summer, trying to escape the flayed versions of Bruce and Tom. 

Shoes slamming against the floor, the Wheelers eyes lock the door at the end of the hall, barricaded with large wooden planks. She doesn't have time to try and think of another way out—she's dead if she doesn't try to get out of here. 

Her shoes skid to a stop as she reaches the exit and Carla curls her shaking fingers around one of the planks, pulling as hard as she can with a strained grunt. She does this again and again, slamming the wood against the door in an attempt to yank it from the others and reveal a way out. Slam. Slam. Slam. 

"Let me out!" Carla practically sobs, not even caring enough to stay strong. God, she wanted out. She hates herself for ever thinking death was a better option because now, on the verge of it, she didn't want to go. She didn't want Vecna to have her. "Fuck! Let me fucking—"

The piece of wood collapses onto the ground. Carla's hands are fumbling for another without a moment to breathe.

"Carla." 

Carla let's out a whimper at the sound of his voice. Her hands tremble as she scrambles for another piece of wood, her fingers slick with sweat. The door in front of her is her only chance—a tiny sliver of hope that she can escape this nightmare. She has to keep going.

"What are you doing?" Vecna presses. Thuds follow his words, and Carla knows he's coming towards her. Her heart races faster and she pulls even harder on the wood. "It's not time for you to leave." 

She can feel him behind her. His presence is suffocating, a weight pressing down on her chest. 

Carla gets another piece of wood off, hearing it clatter to the floor. Her heart pounds like a drum in her ears. She shoves her palms against another plank of wood, dragging it away from the door with a frantic, primal determination. Her mind races through memories—the kids, her mother, Mike, Jonathan, El, her sister, Steve. All the reasons she can't give in, can't fall to this monster.

"Now that you've seen where I've been....." Vecna thuds closer and closer. Carla's chipped and broken nails work against the wood, pulling another plank off. Two more. "....I would like very much to show you where I am going." 

"Shut up!" the Wheeler screeches, childishly. 

Another plank falls from her grasp, leaving a single one on the top of the double doors. Knowing she didn't have time to try and reach for it, Carla takes her chance and thrusts her body right through without another thought.

But, as she stumbles through, her chest falls in horror as she realizes she's back inside the room with Brenner and the tattoo chair.

Brenner faces her, eyes even darker. "Take a seat, Carla." 

The lights flicker once, twice—then shut off completely with a sickening thud. 

Pitch black. 

The room turns entirely black and all Carla can hear is the sound of her own breathing, ragged and unsteady. Tears are sticky against her cheeks—tears the Wheeler doesn't remember letting free. Her hands shake. 

She's scared. So fucking scared. Carla knows this is it for her—as much as she wants to fight, she can't overpower Vecna by herself. He's bigger than the Mind Flayer, he knows her inside and out. He has everything to hold against her, and she only has her easily morphed mind. 

This has to be it. Max is the only person who has ever escaped Vecna's grasp, and she doubts he's gonna let it happen again—let alone with her.  The last thing she ever did was try and escape his home, and she's never going to get to do it. Never. Carla is about to die because of him, as hard as she's fought. 

At least the last thing she saw was Steve's face. At least her friends were all out before her. 

After what feels like forever but like nothing simultaneously, the electricity surges again and Carla is able to see again. Blinking past the disorientation, the Wheeler is quick to realize she isn't in the lab anymore or with Brenner.

She's in the Byers home. 

Carla knows the home like it's her own, quickly recognizing the wallpaper and carpeting, even in the dimmer light. 

This is where everything happened to her. Where the Demogorgan attacked Jonathan, Nancy, Steve, and herself. Where she finally made up with Steve. Where she earned the scars that lined her wrists, tying her down to the Upside Down.

Carla's heart sinks in her chest, and she goes to try and walk, but is stopped by writhing somethings  tied around her ankles and upper body, pressing her hard against the wall. Frantically, her eyes look down to see veins, just like the ones that tied Chrissy, Fred, and Patrick to their final resting spots. 

No. No. No. 

The Wheeler's breaths turned shallow as she started rocking forward and backward roughly, trying to get out of the vines hold. She struggles and struggles, but the vines don't break. In fact, they grow tighter and more constricting against her skin. 

Carla thrashes against the vines, her body jerking violently as she fights for freedom, her mind racing with terror and desperation. The veins coil tighter around her ankles and chest, biting into her skin, leaving no room for movement. Each struggle feels futile, like she's just playing a losing game. 

"Fuck—" the Wheeler whimpers, body aching from the amount of force she's using to slam herself against the wall. "Fuck! Let me go! Let me go you fucker!"

As if she summoned him, from the corner of the room, Vecna emerges slowly, his towering form blending with the gloom until he stands fully visible, his grotesque figure illuminated by the faint, flickering light. His hollow, haunting eyes are fixed on her, unrelenting and cold.

Squelching echos his each step, as well as guttural exhales that send chills down Carla's spine.  

Her heart pounds painfully in her chest as Vecna approaches. Every instinct screams at her to move, to run, to fight, but the vines hold her still, rendering her helpless. She struggles harder, pulling against the restraints with all the strength she can muster, whimpers of strain falling from her lips as she fights. It's all she can do. 

Vecna stops just inches from her. He tilts his head, examining her like a specimen under a microscope. She's tied down like prey, and he's her predator.

Slowly, a clawed hand reaches out, his long nails glinting ominously in the dim light. Carla tries to turn her face away, but there's nowhere to go. The air in her throat feels constricted, she can't breathe. His presence is too overwhelming— she's dead, she knows it. 

One of his clawed fingers comes down to trace the scars over her wrist. Carla's breath hitches as she feels the nail trace, pointed end dangerously close to cutting her—for a moment, it's as though he's pulling apart the memories embedded in the marks. The Demogorgon's claws. The blood. The screaming. The sheer agony of that night.

"Do you feel it, Carla?" Vecna whispers, his voice a sinister blend of fascination and malice. "The pain? The fear? It's all still here, carved into you. You carry it with you everywhere you go."

Voice trembling, Carla grits out, "Go to hell."

At her words, Vecna's nails press down harder, and a sharp, searing pain radiates through Carla's wrist. She gasps, and her eyes widen at the feeling of her skin being pieced. A warm pool of liquid starts to seep from the punctures, staining the tips of his claws. 

Vecna goes deeper—a predator savoring his prey. Carla's cries start to fill the room, desperate and raw, echoing against the walls of the Byers' home.

She's right back in '83, the Demogorgan ripping her wrists. 

"You need to see everything," Vecna rumbles, his voice a rasping blend of malice and command. He pulls his nails from her wrist, Carla's cry of pain coming out choked at the hot blinding sensation."Every ounce of pain, every moment of fear that will come to you and your friends. I want you to feel it, Carla. And when you do... you'll tell Eleven everything."

He lifts his hand right over her head. Her own blood drips down onto her face. 

This is how Chrissy died. Carla watched it happen, watched him raise his hand over her face and watched her body start snapping. 

"No," Carla's voice cracks. She starts writhing. "No, no, no—"

Everything hits her at once.

The Creel house splitting in half.

A floor board ripping in the middle, revealing a red hell.  

A road, Eddie's trailer, and Lovers lake all ripping open, meeting the same fate. 

All the tears coming together, destroying Hawkins right down the center. Buildings and homes are wiped clear off of the ground, falling victim to the red hell below as it overtakes the town. 

"Stop it!" Carla screams, but she can't even move. She can't fight it.  Vecna's images flash in her mind, one after the other, a never-ending nightmare. She's seeing her home destroyed, the entire town ripped at the seams. "Stop!"

Demo-dogs, Demogorgans, and Demo-bats infest the streets. 

Four chimes of a clock. 

Her own house left nothing but debris. 

Max levitating in the air, Lucas screaming her name.

Karen crying, cradling Holly's body.

People dead.

Her friends, dead.

Nancy and Mike, dead.

Steve, dead.

All of Hawkins, dead. Ruled by Vecna.

Steve has never been more scared.

He says that a lot. He's seen more shit than the average nine-teen year old should—the fact that his girlfriend is somehow connected to an alternate-dimension universe hasn't helped him lowering the amount of horror he saw yearly, but either way, he has seen a lot. 

He's seen a monster taller than him, attacked one with a nailed bat, watched as it scarred the only girl he's ever loved. He's gone headfirst into danger with Demo-dogs and into inter-dimensional tunnels. He's gotten beat-up and interrogated by Russians on a secret base.  He's seen a weird creature pulsate within a girl's leg. He's seen the Mind Flayer, for fucks sake, seen it kill a boy his age. He has almost died a few times. He saw his girlfriend dead, held her dead body and then watched her come back to life.  

But somehow, none of that adds up to what he's feeling right now.

Carla isn't dead. She's standing, eyes blinking, chest rising and falling to a degree. She's still alive, but somehow seeing her in this state between life and death is scarier than seeing her cold and lifeless. He saw her there, and at least then he knew she was gone.

Right now, he doesn't know what the fuck is about to happen.

 "Baby, you have to stay with me, okay? Stay with me!" Steve's hands are shakily cradling his girlfriend's head, eyes scanning her face for any sort of life. Her eyes are still glossed over and fluttering, her body tense. "I—I need you here. You can't let him in—you're so much stronger than that."

There's commotion from above. Steve had sent the entire group into a wild goose chase trying to search for a song that would bring Carla back from the trance, just like Running Up That Hill had with Max. 

God, he hopes a song will work. Steve needs a song to work, regardless of Carla's connection. He needs Carla Wheeler to come back to him. He can't see her bones snap—he won't. 

"Steve, what's her favorite song?!" Nancy calls down from the opening, panicked, Erica right beside her.  Why didn't she know her sister's favorite song? Jonathan told her that they used to listen to music together all the time. They're twins, she should know—if she's the reason Carla doesn't wake up, she'll never forgive herself. 

"I don't—" Steve's eyes flicker across Carla's face, trying to think. His mind races, searching for anything that could possibly help him pull her back. But the panic and fear cloud his brain, the pressure of the moment weighing too heavy. 

He's had so many moments with Carla, so many nights where they'd laid in bed and she quietly hummed the lyrics to something, so many car drives where she was singing her heart out, but her favorite song? It feels like an impossible question right now.

If he knows Carla, she probably doesn't even have one. 

"I don't—I don't know, Nance!" Steve shakes his head, eyes never leaving Carla's face. His fingers grip her shoulders in desperation. "I—fuck, I should know, but I just... I can't think! Just find something, anything, and hurry!"

Nancy shoves Erica to the side and the young Sinclair goes running for Eddie's room where the rest of the group is, "Steve says you need to hurry!"

In the mess that is Eddie Munson's room, Max, Robin, Lucas, Eddie, and Dustin are spread all over, searching for any song that screamed Carla Wheeler. Different tapes are in everyone's hands—thank God they're trapped in Eddie Munson, music freak's room—and they scream at one another on whether or not the song was good enough.

"Yeah? No shit! " Dustin screeches from where he stands at the dresser with Lucas, throwing tapes to the side left and right.

"We're trying!" Max says defensively, just as panicked as the rest of the group. "We can't find anything!"

Only downside to being stuck in Eddie Munson's trailer in a moment like this? His music taste happened to be the exact opposite of anything they think Carla would like. 

"Seriously, what is all this shit!?" Robin turns to face Eddie with a pile of all the tapes Max has vetoed in her arms. None of it is Carla's taste, or what the Buckley assumes to be her friends taste from the months they've been close. 

Eddie stumbles over with more tapes in his grasp—he doesn't know Carla at all, "I mean—what are you even looking for?!"

The Buckley throws cassette after cassette onto the bed, frantic, "Madonna, Blondie, Bowie, Beatles—music! We need music!"

Overwhelmingly offended at the fact that his music was just criticized, Eddie grabs the remaining cassette within Robin's hand—Iron Maiden— and screeches, "This is music!"

Steve can hear the screams and arguing of his friends and panics even more. They aren't finding a song. Carla's been in a trance for what felt like forever now—Max was levitating by now. 

God, he's about to see Carla start levitating. He's about to see her bones snap and her eyes, the eyes he adored more than anything, get sucked away. He's about to see the love of his life fucking die and all he can't do anything. 

Steve's breath hitches in his throat as his hands tremble around Carla, her body still but locked in that horrible, inescapable trance. The fear, the helplessness—it's suffocating. His heart is breaking. His mind won't stop spinning, the horrifying reality that she's seconds away from being taken from him by Vecna's. 

Her body twitches slightly, and Steve feels his heart drop straight to his stomach.

That's when he notices the blood.

It's faint at first—a dark crimson spot on her sleeve that grows as blood begins to trickle down from her wrist. Steve's stomach churns. He doesn't understand. This didn't happen to Max—why is this happening to her?

"No, no, no," Steve stammers, fumbling to grab her arm, his hand sliding under her wrist to stop the blood. His shaking fingers press gently against the familiar scars there. "Guys—she's bleeding! Hurry up!"

His shouts are panicked, raw, but he doesn't even hear their replies—his focus is on Carla and Carla alone.

Steve had promised her. Promised her that he wouldn't let this happen. He told her he would always be there, always keep her safe. 

Yet, here she was, bleeding in his arms from Vecna while Steve just stood helplessly. 

But this—this is different. This isn't a monster he can fight with a bat. This isn't the Russians who he could stay silent with. This isn't even some other-worldly thing he can somehow manage to escape from. This is Vecna. Who infiltrates mentally, and not physically. 

And if there is one thing he's never known how to save, it was the way Carla Wheeler thought about herself. 

Before he can try anything else, her head lolls forward and she slumps toward the floor.

Steve barely processes what's happening, immediately reaching out and grabbing her before she collapses completely. Panic and instinct take over as he lowers her gently to the ground, his hands trembling.

It's not even seconds later that her body begins to seize.

Her limbs stiffen unnaturally, fingers curling inward tensely, and light but noticeable spasms rack her entire frame, as if her body is fighting itself. 

Steve's eyes go wide. What the fuck was happening?!

Max didn't start seizing. Max didn't start bleeding. He'd rather see her rise into the air because at least that was what he expected. Why was Carla doing this—what was Vecna doing to her that he hadn't done to the redhead days ago.

He doesn't know what Vecna's whispering to her, but it has to be bad if this is happening, right? He knows his girlfriend; he knows her mind is a battleground. He's seen it—seen the hurt she tries to hide, the bad nights of no sleeps or nightmares she thinks he doesn't notice. The thought of her trapped in her own darkness makes him feel worse than ever. 

"Someone help!" Steve shouts, his voice cracking with desperation. His eyes barely dart up to the gate for a second but he immediately locks his eyes back on his girlfriend, watching as a thin line of crimson starts to drip down out of her nose, getting atop her upper lip as she lightly jerked. "Fuck—Carla, please!"

There's a thump and the Harrington looks back to see Nancy running for him, eyes wide as she sees her sister on the floor. "Steve—what the fuck is happening to her!"

"I don't know she just—she just started fucking convulsing and she's bleeding—" Steve can barely get the words out.

"Guys, hurry up, please! Find any song!" Nancy looks like she could cry as she crouches down next to her ex, doe eyes creasing at the sight of her twin. Why did she let Carla just jump in after Steve. She should have never gone into the Upside Down. "Max didn't do this, did she? Is it her shoulder?"

Nancy's words fall on deaf ears. Steve's more focused on how this could be Carla's final moments.

This has to be it, right? Her bones are going to crack on the floor instead of in the air.  Steve isn't sure what he'd rather see. He doesn't know what to do right now, really—does he call down the others? Does he just let her do this? Does he let her die?

Die.

He's never going to see her graduate, never going to watch her walk across a stage and earn a diploma that'll get her into a good college. They'll never officially move in together, buy a house, or start a life. He'll never sleep beside her again, never hear her laugh, see her smile—her smile could be the prettiest thing he knows— or feel her warmth next to him. He'll never get to kiss her again, to kiss her like he means it, like it's the only thing in the world that matters. He'll never hear her voice call his name, or dance with her. He's never going to be able to get on one knee for her. They won't have kids together, won't build a family like he's been so desperately dreaming off. He can practically see the dream flickering away in the his head.

And worst of all... he never told her any of that. Never told her what he was too scared to say.

God, he never even told her about it. He doesn't know how he got this far without telling her everything he needed to. 

Carla Wheeler has put Steve Harrington through hell with the decisions she makes—he'd have never felt half the pain he has felt if he never fell in love with her. But he wouldn't change it, ever. He loves her. 

"Please, Carla." Steve states, quieter now. "I love you." 

It's as if the words are a key, a lifeline, because seconds later, a sharp gasp rips through the air, and Carla comes right back to it. Some kind of sound of relief leaves the back of Steve's throat. Nancy lets out a sob. 

Steve's not sure what to do next, but instinct takes over. He gently turns her onto her side, afraid she might choke on whatever's rising in her throat. Carla throws up the nothing that's in her stomach.

She looks so weak, so fragile. Her cheeks are pale, streaked with blood from her nose, and her hair clings to her damp skin. She's trembling, her breaths shallow and erratic—she's disoriented. The blood staining her sleeve matches the blood on trailing down her face.  

For the first time in a long time, Steve sees her not as the headstrong girl who's faced monsters with him—but as a scared, broken teenager.

Shakily trying to sit up, Carla's hands weakly push at his chest as if trying to distance herself from him. "You're not real. You're not real—"

"Hey, hey—Carla, baby, this is real." Steve tries again to cautiously touch her, not wanting to scare her off again. "Carla, you're safe. I'm real—you got out of there. You're safe." 

It makes him hurt seeing her like this. Seeing her, knowing that Vecna had tormented her, had done enough to strip her of her sense of safety.

It seems to click in Carla's head that she truly is back, because a broken sob escapes her lips as she slumps forward into her boyfriend.

Steve wraps his arms around her instantly, holding her tightly as though he could shield her from the world. His hand cradles the back of her head, his fingers gently threading through her hair as he whispers softly, "I've got you. You're okay. I'm here. I'm here."

 The Harrington knows this isn't over yet, not by a long shot. But for now, Carla is alive; she's here. 

And for Steve, that's enough.

mara's misc

one of my longest chapters????

i tried hard to get this chapter out yesterday, but i still had a little left. still a quick update tho!!!

anyways, officially done with school until january!! i am SO SO SO ready to be on winter break because 2nd quarter slump has hit me SO hard and it's abt damn time i get away from my grade for a while. literally it's so nice to not be stressed about grades and know i'm officially getting a's for all classes (over 100%'s for 2!!)

anywho, carla is alive (for now). you guys know i can never resist giving carla wheeler trauma, and vecna would never just let her go. originally, i was going to keep nancy and have carla dream walk to help, BUT i felt like getting creative with the trauma's vecna would use against her instead.

yes, vecna would use billy. flayed billy. carla is scared of billy as much as she tries not to be, because he has given her a hell of a lot of trauma with the whole sauna test. i did enjoy writing their moment in the beginning of the chapter, as well as a few chapters ago. i like the freedom that s4 has given me as an author to just kinda fuck around with visions?? like i can truly add anything that will scare carla.

including that is her wrist scars from the demogorgon. it was originally GhostWriterGirl-1's idea, but vecna would totally use this trauma against her, too. it's literally where everything started with her. 

also i'd like to add that since in the show, the voice over where nancy is finding out about vecna/henry is spoken to eleven and not nancy, i only added it to keep the feel of the scene and add some more detail. carla couldn't hear vecna until he spoke to her via brenner, so she didn't hear the use of "me" or "i".  some authors include it as him talking to their oc's, but i sorta just added it for scene sake because it adds more.

hope you enjoyed <3 see you back with chapter 18!!