To Heal All Wounds

Prologue: The Return

Had they found out that he ran when Chrissy died? That he'd left her and hadn't even tried to help? Had they found out that he hid from Jason and his friends? Or that he had put his own friends in danger to save his skin in the aftermath of Chrissy's death? It was like his last stand hadn't even mattered. Regardless of how he had tried to redeem himself, and he'd tried so damn hard, he would always be what he knew he was deep down.

A coward.

Time passed slowly after that. Eddie tried to ignore the glances and the whispers, but it was hard. Harder now, and he didn't know why. It hurt more than usual. Like when he was a kid and people pointed at him and laughed. When parents pulled their kids away and said they couldn't play with him. Something hollow and agonizing yawned open in his chest, and he had to cross his arms protectively before him to keep it shut. One thing, at least, had not changed in Hawkins. He was still the town freak.

The town murderer.

He tried to keep to the edges of the crowd and maintain a low profile as best he could. That was also still second nature it would seem. Running away. Keeping his head down. Staying quiet for as long as it took to stay alive.

He really hadn't changed, had he? As much as he wanted to grab people by the shoulders and proclaim his own innocence, to tell them how he had tried to do the right thing at long-fucking-last, he didn't. His voice remained locked in his throat as he waited.

As they all waited.

As for what they were waiting for... no one was sure.

An answer?

A rescue?

Anything.

A few left the field a little after noon. They were heading home, they said. Eddie supposed it made sense. Go back to where things were normal. Do what was natural. Better than standing in the open waiting for something to happen. People left in pockets from time to time, but the majority had all lingered for the better part of the day, uncertainty meshing indistinguishably with fear as a low rumble of panic began to hum beneath all of the hushed conversations.

Sometime after noon, Eddie began to lose hope that they would be picked up. There was always the option of going home, he supposed but... what home? He was still, as far as he knew, an accused murderer. Would Wayne even want him home? And if he did, wouldn't that just be putting him in danger? Eddie couldn't fathom that. Wayne had been so good to him after his mom dumped him off... No. Wayne wasn't an option. He could go to one of the Hellfire's houses but... no that'd be risking them too.

In the end, Eddie had nowhere to go.

Nobody wanted him.

He tightened his grip around himself, trying to keep his eyes and his head cool.

His name being called from a distance wrenched Eddie from his own self-pity. He recognized it before he'd recognized his own and opened his arms for her the instant he saw her running towards him. Like the sun shining through dark clouds, forcing them out of her way with the sheer force of her light. She hit him like a ton of bricks, surprisingly solid for how small she was. But that was what cheerleading did to someone, Eddie guessed. It made them muscley, all that flipping and twirling. The warmth of her chased away the cold creeping through his veins.

She didn't know it, but she saved him just then.

She was shaking.

It took Eddie too long to realize that Chrissy was trembling. The sensation in his body may have returned, but his mind was still slogging through shit. The only other time it'd been this hard to think had been he'd smoked too much with Rick. But at least then there was the pleasant sensation of floating above his own shitty self. Eddie chastised himself, holding her tighter as though the pressure of his embrace would stop her crying.