³𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐄, 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 ✔

023-it's gonna be okay

A FEW MINUTES LATER, FIREFIGHTERS AND ARMY OFFICIALS OF ALL RANKS STORMED into Starcourt Mall under the impression that there had been a disastrous fire.

Nine teenagers were led outside knowing otherwise.

Each teen had been dragged away from one another by clumps of paramedics— Carla reluctantly being yanked away from Steve's side and towards an ambulance due to the bruises and blood on her figure—and were all currently scattered among the Starcourt Mall parking lot, each sitting in an ambulance or a stretcher with blankets wrapped around their shoulders, or bags of ice in their palms.

Carla was currently sitting on a stretcher, where she was being checked over by a paramedic. The woman seemed rather nice, but the Wheeler was no help to her questions, answers coming out one worded, or rather blank.

Despite her quietness, Carla had been listening—she had a mild concussion, a few bruised ribs and was in dire need of actual medical attention rather than a quick scan over. There was still a faint pounding in her head and her limbs ached for rest after the amount of exhaust and sleep deprivation she'd been through within the week.

"Okay, I'm all done here with you." The paramedic tries to make eye contact with Carla, but fails to do so as the Wheeler stays dazed off in the distance. The woman unscrews a cap and pours a few tablets into her hand, outstretching it to the injured girl. "Take these for any pain. If you need anything else, come find someone, okay?"

Carla allows the woman to drop the tablets into her hands, "Okay."

"You sure you're okay, honey?" The paramedic manages to meet Carla's gaze this time, taking in her blank eyes and sunken expression. The Wheeler wishes she could be in the woman's position—unknowing to the true horrors of Hawkins, able to sleep at night without being worried she'd wake up to find monsters wanting her.

Answering her question, Carla manages to plaster on a weak—and fake—smile, pulling the blanket she'd received closer to her figure. "Yeah, I'm fine." She adds the usual show of gratitude, "Thank you."

"It's my job." The paramedic replies with a sad smile before heading off in another direction, searching for someone else in need of medicine or ice or a simple check-in.

Once she's gone, Carla let's out a small sigh and looks down at the pills in her palm before downing them dry—she didn't care about the sour taste on her tongue, nor about the short-lived burn she felt as the pills went down her throat due to being rather parched.

She felt like shit. But, how else were you supposed to feel after being choked on multiple occasions, given multiple concussions, being possessed by an other worldly creature, dying, and coming back to life in the span of a week? Happy? Great?

All Carla wanted to do was go home. She didn't want to hurt, she didn't want to think about what happened, she didn't want to be questioned by her mother or by anymore doctors. She just wanted to go home and close her eyes; to process everything that happened.

Which begged her to think of what would happen when she was sent home. What would they do? How would Max go home knowing her step-brother was dead on the linoleum floor? How would El continue without her powers? How would Carla go into tomorrow knowing she'd been flayed; knowing she had been dead?

Every year, Carla ends up finding some sort of normal again after the Upside Down events, but this year, Carla Wheeler doesn't know if she can.

There's a light mist falling over the mall, and Carla appreciates the feeling against her skin. As the chatter of generals and paramedics and the sound of sirens falls behind her, the Wheeler girl's eyes scan around the perimeter, trying to spot her friends and siblings among the crowded lot.