BILLIE JEAN ( eddie munson.. ) ✔

017. Shot Through The Heart..

But because she loved him, he was now a name opening up the list, writing itself at the bottom of it and reminding her that everything touched in devotion and rippled in attachment, could as well be taken from her the next day. Self preservation, fear of dying, had stopped her from saying what she should have shouted from the top of her lungs since that backstage kiss.

He deserved her all, but how could she consciously doom him to the risk of her list?

Eddie was asleep now, they were all alone and the curse pouch was outside, in the backyard. With a sigh, Billie parted her lips and made way for her final attempt at ripping off the last bandage over the scars of her past.

"I lov..."

Her whisper hitched into the horrifying sound of the telephone downstairs ringing.

What was she thinking? She'll have plenty of time whispering love poems in his ear after Hawkins is safe again. A darker voice of reason in Billie's mind doubted through a laugh that there will ever be another day of peace in their lives and that, if anything, her little failure was the last chance she was ever going to get. A grim thought, sending a chill down her spine almost as strong as hearing the distantly loud ring of the phone.

Billie sat up in a shortness of breath. She pinched her inner left wrist with the tips of her opposite hand's nails and the sting of pain confirmed that she hadn't accidentally fallen asleep. That phone might have truly been ringing, which could only mean two things: it was a genuine call in the middle of the night or... the Mirror Man was at it again.

Only for the sake of the first option, whose chances were small, but important enough to weigh more, Billie considered getting out of bed, dressing up again to a level of decency and going downstairs to answer the call. But she did none of that before trying to shake her boyfriend awake.

Her left arm slid from under him and her hand immediately tapped Eddie's shoulder. "Babe," she whispered, nudging him at first, then rocking him gently. "Baby, wake up," she tried one more time. His snoring continued. Billie gave up trying to pull him from such a deep sleep and, sighing, she slipped out of her bed. Pulling back on the clothes he removed was not as much of a challenge as holding her steady on her feet and finding the location of her pants in the first place.

Somehow, though it felt like an eternity had passed before she was dressed again and those clothes stuck to her skin a little more uncomfortable than usual, when she opened the door the phone was still ringing. Persistent, without any breaks.

Billie took one more glance full of longing back at Eddie. He was soundly asleep, turning to concrete her choice of stepping out of the room and leaving the door open while she made her way through the unlit house. The slightest of hesitation happened once she reached the stairs and felt the dreadful need to look up.

There, in the night's deepest darkness, the ceiling looked stained. Somehow, Billie guessed that if she stared long enough, frozen at the top of the stairs, she'll start seeing the stain capture the yellow glow of two dots acting as glassy, dead eyes staring her down, so instead of giving in to these fears, she rushed down, two steps at time, her completely loose hair bouncing heavily on her back. Several strands tickled too far on her face and that was the very first time Billie realized: Eddie must have gotten all her hair ties off as part of the hair pulling which was an unexpectedly good sensation when it came from his hands.

Alas, she reached the bottom of the stairs and the ringing phone, catching the impromptu scent of a deja vu: was it the 1985 spring again? Had she gone back in time to the unaware seventeen year old who always woke up in the middle of the night to answer bizarre phone calls that only she heard?