𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐑

𝟏𝟎. 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠

"𝙄𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪'𝙧𝙚 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙣' 𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙝𝙞𝙜𝙝 𝙨𝙘𝙝𝙤𝙤𝙡 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙,
𝙃𝙚'𝙨 𝙜𝙞𝙫𝙞𝙣' 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙗𝙡𝙪𝙚𝙨.
𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙜𝙧𝙖𝙙𝙪𝙖𝙩𝙚, 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙞𝙣 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙙.
𝙃𝙚𝙧𝙚'𝙨 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙜𝙤𝙩𝙩𝙖 𝙙𝙤."

⬻ 𝘋𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘺 𝘋𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘴 𝘋𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘳𝘵 𝘊𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘱 - 𝘈𝘊/𝘋𝘊 ⤖

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡 𝟏𝟕𝐭𝐡, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟔

When will you realize that I'm trying to help you? You need to listen to me.

Billy's voice was a record that wouldn't stop spinning in your brain. No matter how long you stared yourself down in your vanity mirror, your bedroom still dark in the early light of the morning, or how loudly you blasted music through the headset of your walkman, he was always there. Watching, whispering, reminding you of the terrible dream you barely escaped from alive. Or so it felt at the time.

Shuddering, you kicked the front door ajar and held it open with your shoulder as you maneuvered down the front porch with the wide cardboard box in your arms. It was filled to the brim with anything you could find lying around in your room. Pillows, blankets, a handheld radio, a scrambled Rubik's cube. Anything you thought Eddie might want or need while he was shut up in that boat house.

The only board game you could find was Pretty Pretty Princess, and while you didn't think he would touch the box with a ten-foot pole, it was still balancing on the very top.

Upon hearing a jumble of low-talking voices, you came to an abrupt stop at the head of the driveway and peered over the side of the box to see your brother and all of his friends hunched over the open trunk of his station wagon. It was too late to duck back inside — Jason's head snapped up as soon as the front door shut behind you. You had no choice but to lower your head and walk the rest of the way down to your car, pretending like they didn't show up at Gareth's house yesterday and beat the shit out of a sixteen-year-old boy while making you watch.

"What's all that for?" Andy asked. The other boys paused their conversations and turned to watch you pop open your trunk and shove the box deep inside.

"Donation stuff," you lied. "You know, for people in need."

"People in need?"

"You know, the homeless? The less fortunate?"

Jason's eyes narrowed into slits, unmoving from your figure as you walked back around your car and stuck the key into the driver's side door. "Need any help?" He called, voice laced with suspicion.

"Me? No — No, I'm good."

While you hated him for how he treated the boys, you were still very embarrassed about how you broke the news of Chrissy's death to him. Eyes red and bleary, tears and snot melting down your face. And for whatever reason, you also still felt bad for Richard Philips, whoever he may be. It was a messy momentary lapse in judgment.

Jason swaggered over to you, HHS varsity jacket crinkling as he leaned his weight on the side of your car. You barely contained the glare that threatened to slip through. No one, especially not the likes of Jason, could touch Randy without your express permission.

"Why don't you just give that stuff to us, anyway? We're headed downtown and we'd be more than happy to take care of it for you. Wouldn't we, boys?"

You glanced over Jason's shoulder just to see Lucas lingering on the outskirts of the group. Get on your fucking walkie, you wanted to hiss. Everyone's been trying to get ahold of him since yesterday, but it was pretty obvious which side he had chosen in this war.

"No, I'm fine, really. I needed to get out of the house anyway to clear my head."

When will you realize that I'm trying to help you? You need to listen to me.

An unspoken truth is passed between you and Jason reaches around the back of his head to scratch the nape of his neck. "Hey, I'm really sorry about what I said back at Benny's. I was just—"

"It's fine," you blurted out. Eddie was expecting you back at Reefer Rick's with supplies at least an hour ago. If you didn't get going right now, the walkie-talkie in your pocket would go off and reveal some very incriminating information. "Really, Jason, I'm sorry I thought it would have been better for you to hear all that from me instead of the actual authorities. I kinda deserved it, now that I think about it."

Jason sucked. He was ruthless on the court, an asshole in the hallways at school, and bloodthirsty everywhere else. But he was still just a boy — a boy who lost his girlfriend in a terrible, violent way.

He hung his head low and let out a shaky, almost pained chuckle before glancing back up at you with a bleached white smile. "No, I'm actually glad you told me," he said with a shrug. "I wouldn't have believed those guys any more than I believed you." 

There came a long pause and he took the time to lick his lips and look behind him to make sure none of his teammates could hear before inching ever so subtly closer to where you stood. "I wanted to thank you, too. For trying to look out for me. I know we haven't been on good terms this year...but I think..." Jason swallowed. "I think Chrissy would have wanted us to get along. For her sake."

You bit down hard on your bottom lip to prevent yourself from throwing up in your mouth. He was doing exactly what he did at the pep rally when he brought up the mall fire — making it about him. But Chrissy's death wasn't just a convenient excuse for him to cozy up with you.

There was a time before your senior year when everyone thought you and Jason would have made it as a couple. You were the good girl, the babysitter, who hung out with cheerleaders. You went to basketball games and made glittery posters for your brother and his teammates. Everyone knew that there was a time (long before Chrissy Cunningham) when Jason would have given anything to make you his girlfriend. But now he was leaning up against your car, cornering you under the bleachers, and you knew he would never risk talking to you where anyone else might see. And all you thought of when you looked at him was disgust.

But for the sake of the fact that you were really in a hurry and his fucking girlfriend just died, you only nodded and smiled sadly. "Of course."

Someone slammed the trunk of Andy's car shut and you both turned to see the boys slinking toward you. "Ready when you are, J," Patrick said, gesturing toward their car. You took that moment to step on your tip-toes and glance through the tinted windows into the back. The entire floor of the trunk was littered with the contents of your garage — aluminum baseball bats, your dad's chainsaw, a box of industrial garbage bags, and gardening gloves, just to name a few.

"What are you guys up to?" you asked, slowly dragging your eyes away from the horror show tucked into the back of your brother's car.

Jason flashed you an evil smile and started walking backward away from you. "We're gonna go catch us a freak."

Patrick and the other boys laughed from the bowels of the station wagon and your brother slammed his fist excitedly into the horn at the center of the steering wheel. You stood there frozen in shock, your heart dropping in time with the passenger door slamming shut. 

(A/N: This feels really short but it's like the average length of my chapters so idk. I'm heavily focusing on this and Black Smoke Rising right now because I'm in my young adult dystopian era rn. Thanks for reading! I didn't edit this at all. Enjoy!)