ch 5. wounded recognizes wounded.

Dorothy cunningham had officially gone rouge; she was speeding down a backroad with max mayfield, steve harrington, and dustin henderson on their way to commit breaking and entering. if you had told her any of this three days ago, she would have laughed straight in your face.

dorothy's thoughts are interrupted by a voice speaking urgently through dustin's supercom, "dustin, it's lucas. do you copy?" lucas sinclair was on the basketball team with chrissy's hopeless boyfriend, jason. dorothy could only expect jason to bring nothing good along with him, no matter who it came from. she automatically didn't trust lucas by association.

dustin quickly responds, "lucas? where the hell have you been?"

"just listen. are you guys looking for eddie?"

"yeah, and we found him, no thanks to you." dustin rolls his eyes, "he's at a boathouse on coal mill road. don't worry, he's safe."

"you guys know he killed chrissy, right?"

dorothys teeth tug at her bottom lip, biting down hard. the taste of blood appears on her tongue; a welcomed, acquired taste.

"that's bullshit!" dustin counters defensively, "eddie tried to save chrissy."

"then why do all the cops say he did it?"

max exhales, watching dorothy swipe the back of her hand against her lips. she lunges forward, grabbing the walkie from dustin's grip, "lucas, you're so behind it's ridiculous, okay? just meet us at the school, we'll explain later."

"i can't." dorothy doesn't miss the way lucas's voice quivers, "i think some real bad shits about to go down."

"what are you talking about?" max presses, "what bad shit?" there's nothing but static in response. "lucas? lucas?"

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The crew arrives at an eerily silent hawkins high just as darkness encases the town. dustin's radio crackles back to life as they're making their ways through the deserted hallways, "dustin, do you copy?"

"yeah, i copy." dustin answers robins distinct voice.

"so, nancy's a genius." robin gushes, "vecna's first victims date all the way back to nineteen fifty nine. her shot in the dark was a bulls-eye."

"okay, that's totally bonkers, but i can't really talk right now." dustin huffs, flashlights leading their way.

"wait, what are you doing?"

"breaking and entering into school to retrieve some confidential and extremely personal files." dustin discreetly explains, being partially cut out by radio static.

"can you repeat that?"

dustin rolls his eyes, grunting, "just get your ass over here, stat. we'll explain everything."

dorothy hands ms. kelley's stolen keys over to max, who swiftly jams them inside the door to the counslers office. the teens slowly enter, flashlights illuminating the small space.

dustin shines his light from end to end, "it's like a mini watergate or something. hawkins gate."

"didn't those guys get caught?"

dorothy ignores the banter, immediately tugging open a file cabinet drawer and thumbing through the hundreds of files. "holy shit," she breathes, landing on a tab labeled 'cunningham, chrissy.'

"you found it?" max asks, kneeling beside the girl on the floor.

dorothy inhales, flipping past her sisters file and through the others. "yeah, and not just chrissy's." she pulls a folder from the cabinet, "fred was seeing ms. kelley too."

max gently slips fred's file from dollys fingertips, spreading it open across the counslers desk. dorothy peers over the red-heads shoulder, face going pale as she reads over familiar symptoms.

"can i see chrissys?" max asks, shaking dolly from her shock. she nods once, passing her sisters file over. dustin shines his flashlight over the pages, illuminating the same familiar symptoms.

severe headaches—dorothy stands at her locker in between periods, dumping tylenol into the palm of one hand and tilting her head back, swallowing the pills dry. she repeats the same process at the kitchen sink, in her bedroom, in the schools bathroom.

nosebleeds—dorothy sits in her bedroom, hunched over homework when a thick crimson spot lands on her paper. she slowly reaches towards her nose, fingers stained a dark red when she pulls them away.

constant nightmares—dorothy jolts awake in a haste, gasping for air. unsettled eyes dart around her dark bedroom.

past trauma—ms. kelley's voice echoes, "dorothy, what you've been through, it's a lot for anyone." dorothy running through the woods, screaming for help after finding her best friend, unaware she was already too late. officers coming to her front door at dawn, relaying the news of her sisters passing.

"dorothy? what is it?" dustin voice calls, followed by steve and max, "dorothy! dorothy!"

"dorothy."

dolly looks over her shoulder at the low voice chanting her name. it taunts her, leading the girl out of the office and into the deserted halls. "dorothy."

"dorothy." the monsterous voice teases until it is suddenly replaced by the distinct sound of a clock chiming—a countdown.

dorothy holds her flashlight in front of her, illuminating a large grandfather clock seemingly sticking out from the cement wall at the end of the hallway.

tick.
         

           tick.

                          tick.

"dorothy...."