It should have been me.
That one simple, agonizing thought plagued Billy Hargrove on a daily basis. It was always there, whether or not he was paying attention to it.
And he was always paying attention to it.
August was coming to a close, and there had been no dissipation of pain that Tatum's death had caused.
Most days, the fact of her absence from the world was overbearing and brutal, every sweet moment snatched away, along with her future.
Some days it felt like she was still there.
It was as if Billy would turn a corner and she would be there waiting for him. Constantly he looked, searching for her face in Hawkins. The grocery store, downtown, by his car.
But she was never there.
Tatum Rivers died late on July 4th, her body swept up by EMTs who declared her DOA. No pulse. There was barely any blood left in her body; most of it was on the mall floor, a building which had since been demolished.
She was gone, and it was a fact that Billy fought with every day since.
For some, there was a little good that came out of the tragedy; Nina and Ben returned to their parents with hope of life and freedom, the Byers were finally going to get a new start, and several teen relationships were spared. Billy truly had contacted his mother, and she was on her way to Hawkins to see him.
But despite the good from the nightmare, it was relative. All who were involved shared the same sentiment.
It wasn't worth it.
Billy should have been at the Byers house to help them pack up the well-loved home for their move to New York, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He had dropped Max and Lucas off, but claimed he needed to pack up his own belongings.
To be fair, he most certainly needed to pack. His room was littered with boxes, but they were all empty, and he had to leave for IU in less than a day.
College. Something he had never imagined happening, right up there with the only girl he ever loved dying.
Especially when it should have been me.
Billy scowled to himself as he sat in the center of his bedroom, an unlit cigarette hanging from his lips. A finger tapped the tune to a Motley Crüe song, his new radio pumping out metal in an attempt to drown out his agony.
He had broken his last one about a month before, smashing it to pieces before AC/DC could finish the first line of You Shook Me All Night Long.
It was the small things that hurt the most.
His father beat the shit out of him for it, but it hardly compared to the torture he put himself through on a daily basis.
Not even close.
He scrounged his pocket for a lighter, grumbling until he produced a battered Bic. He stared into the flame for a long, silent moment, only then remembering why he had it out in the first place. He hastily lit his cigarette, taking a deep inhale before turning his attention to a large pile of clothes that had been rooted out of his closet days before.
How was he supposed to go to IU without her?
Tatum had been so excited to start college. She wore her Indiana sweater every day until the temperature rose above eighty degrees. If she could have lifeguarded with it on, she would have. She would tell anyone who asked about her college plans, her classes already lined out for the path to success.
Billy's thoughts were already detained as he dropped the first folded shirt into the nearest box.
Flashes of the early days of summer battered him, an abundance of good flowing over him.
Late night quarry trips, breaking into the pool after hours, countless times climbing up and down the rungs outside her window.
Her laughter.
Billy smiled for the first time in a long time, but within moments it was banished as her contagious laughter turned into her screams.
He winced at the residual sound of the Mind Flayer's limb puncturing clean through Tatum's shoulder.
It should have been me.
Billy slammed shirt after shirt into the box, sealing it off with a loud rip of tape once it was filled. The songs changed as he continued packing, but his thoughts remained starkly on Tatum.
In her last moments, all Tatum cared about was the fact that she kept him safe like she promised.
She had kept them all safe, and that's all that mattered to her.
The bedroom door flung open, Neil arising with a red face.
Billy barely looked up from his fourth nearly filled box, cigarette burning low between his lips. He blinked several times, taking in his father's expression as he remained seated on the floor.
"Where the hell is Maxine?" Neil asked, voice booming.
"She's with her friends," he calmly replied, wedging a belt among a stack of jeans and shorts. "One of them is moving today. She's helping pack."
Neil paused, his heavy chest beginning to slow. "Fine." He trailed the mess of his room, regarding the boxes mildly. "Don't waste that man's money. You won't last a semester."
Billy remained quiet, adding a pair of joggers that Tatum often stole from him to the box he was nearly ready to tape off.
Neil scoffed with a cruel smile, shaking his head. "I'll be surprised if you last a month."
His eyes closed as the door slammed shut, his father's footsteps thundering back through the house. He let out a light sigh as he added another pair of pants to the box.
Neil hadn't given much thought to Tatum Rivers' death, even when Max calmly told him that she had been Billy's girlfriend. It didn't faze him, granted he never cared enough to ask his son if he had been seeing someone since their move to Hawkins the year before. Maybe he didn't yell as much for the first week or so after the fact, but it didn't change the malice towards his son.
To what he knew, a girl he never met had died in a freak accident at the mall that was only rumored to be a communist ploy.
Billy checked his watch several times as he continued to fill box after box with his entire life. It was an odd race and pull between time. He wanted to get out of the house as soon as possible, but he was also running out of time to have all of his things ready by the morning.
Not the mention the anxiety of seeing her again.
The woman who gave birth to him, who raised him for the first half of his life, would be crossing the town border in less than twenty minutes.
Billy grew anxious, his folding technique turning into tossing items into boxes haphazardly.
He didn't know if he wanted to leave, run, or lay in bed forever.
All he did know was that he wanted Tatum.
His father used to tell him that he always wanted what he couldn't have.
Some things don't change.
Billy checked his watch after he sealed lucky box number seven, thankful for the time that flashed back at him. He made several trips to get all of the filled boxes into his car, barely enough room left for himself to fit comfortably in the driver's seat.
A wave of nausea rolled over him as he kicked the car to life, pulling away from the curb and heading for the Rivers residence.
For once, the anxiety he was riddled with wasn't about Tatum.
It was about seeing his mother for the first time in nearly a decade.
Something of which he wouldn't have done if Tatum hadn't brought it up all those months ago.
And there she was, pinballing around the back of his head and rising the guilt in his chest so high that he could taste bile.
Billy rested an elbow on the window ledge, letting his fingers hold his head as he drove from one residential area to the next, passing through town without acknowledging much of anything.
His car slowly squeaked up outside of the infamous house where he had spent so much of his time in the past year, his eyes darting around the face of the home that was lacking the warmth it used to. A U-Haul truck was parked where Elena's car usually sat, all of the vehicles squished to one side of the driveway and nearly spilling out onto the street.
Billy slid out of his camaro, pocketing his keys as he took a deep sigh. He walked up between the stream of vehicles instead of cutting straight across the grass, and although he didn't acknowledge his reasoning, he found himself stopped at the dormant Jeep wedged at the front of the line of cars.
If cars could talk.
He ran his hand along the hood of the Jeep, fingers imprinting in the dust that had collected on the surface.
"I can't bring myself to drive it."
Billy closed his eyes, keeping himself from physically jumping at the English accent that voiced behind him. He looked over his shoulder, hand still attached to the vehicle.
Ben stood with his hands pocketed in his jeans, so different from the tactically dressed version of himself that ran into the mall minutes before his sister died in front of him. Stubble had begun to grown on his cheeks and chin. His eyes were sunken in, the lack of sleep radiating off of him. "I know she wouldn't care. She probably would hate this beautiful thing just sitting here in the driveway, but I can't do it yet."
The last time that he drove Jolene was hours after Tatum's body was wheeled away from the mall and his hands were stained with her blood.
He hadn't touched it since.
"Are you guys taking it with?" Billy asked, finally lifting his fingers from the dusty surface.
Ben nodded, his minimal smile telling. "How could we not?"
Keep it warm for her.
Billy blinked away the thought, running a hand through his hair. "Is my mom here?"
The reformed Soviet motioned over his shoulder, turning back towards the house. "Feeling okay?"
"Okay is relative," he replied, pocketing his hands for safety as he followed Ben inside the house.
The Rivers home no longer had its comforting, stylish flare that oozed 'world traveler' but instead was lined with partially filled boxes and rolls of bubble wrap. All of the photographs had been removed from the walls, but most of them were taken down long before they decided to leave town.
Even down to its bare bones, there was still so much of her there.
Billy took in a deep breath of familiar air, stopping just shy of the kitchen before turning the corner with a smile.
A lean woman with shoulder cropped blonde hair sat next to Elena at the breakfast bar, a coffee mug in hand. Her clothes were crumpled from the flight, but she was just as stunning as Billy remembered. Maybe the angel light that he used to think was there as a kid had diminished, but she was still shining.
"Hi, honey," Victoria greeted, her words soft and warm as she rose to her feet and offered her arms out to the son she had left behind.
Billy felt an overwhelming sense of eyes on him, Jordan, Elena and Ben all staring at him as he slowly approached his mother. His smile remained small, but he wrapped his arms around her and let a wave of comfort wash over him as she squeezed his shoulders.
He had forgotten that feeling.
Victoria ran her hands along his face and through his hair as they pulled away, looking him up and down. The wetness in her eyes managed to remain with the lids, threatening to drop as she smiled wide. She patted his chest softly, hesitating at the lack of a chain around his neck. "You look amazing. So big and strong."
After a long pause, Jordan cleared his throat and rose from his rested position against the kitchen counter. "Billy, can I get you coffee?" He would have offered something stronger, but he imagined it wouldn't make a great first impression on Victoria.
"Yeah, that would be great," Billy agreed, having to force his words through a strained throat. "Where's Nina?"
Jordan motioned a finger upwards as he filled a fresh cup of coffee. "She's on the phone with El. She got back from the Byers' a little while ago." He sent a missed glance in Victoria's direction, thankful for her infatuation with her son instead of asking questions that they hadn't figured out how to answer. "She'll be down in a bit."
"She's stressed about starting school," Ben replied without a beat, his mouth hovering slightly open in an attempt to suck his words back up.
"How old is Nina?" Victoria asked, resuming her spot at the breakfast counter.
Billy couldn't help but acknowledge that she was in Tatum's seat.
"She's fourteen," said Elena between sips. "She starts high school once we get to Washington. It's all just a bit new."
Victoria smiled excitedly. "I can't wait for you guys to get there. I know we're still a city away from one another, but I'd love to show you around. The Seattle area is so nice this time of year."
The moment Victoria was given the chance to reunite with her son, something she likely never would have done herself, she was all in. No, she couldn't offer him a college education, but she could be best friends with the family that would. She had even tried several times to talk him into going to a university in Washington so she could be close to him, but there were several reasons he denied it.
Neil would kill him. He would never see Max again. He wouldn't be able to experience the life that Tatum wanted before hers was taken.
Indiana was where he felt he was meant to be, whether or not he had decided if it was to mourn her or wait for her.
He guessed he would spend his whole life waiting, and he was content with that.
As Victoria rattled on about all the things the Rivers' would experience once they moved to Seattle, Billy idly sipped on his coffee while standing with Jordan in the middle of the kitchen, staring blankly at the floor.
It was his first time seeing his mother since she left him, and he was dead silent.
Maybe if they weren't in her house, it would be different.
But it didn't really matter where Billy was or when, she always consumed his thoughts.
There were few options in the way of spending time with Victoria in Hawkins, mostly because no one knew what would happen if Neil ever saw her face.
Would he pretend to be nice? Would he beat her like he used to? Would he kill her?
With too much up in the air, Jordan decided on ordering in a hefty amount of Chinese food from the only decent non-American restaurant in their part of the state.
"Billy!"
Over an hour after his arrival to the Rivers house and conveniently just as the food was arriving, Nina barreled into the kitchen and tackled Billy in a hug.
Billy grinned, squeezing the teen that often reminded him too much of Tatum tight. "Hey, kid. Running up the phone bill?"
Nina shot a mild glance in the direct of Victoria, suddenly conscious of the red staining her upper lip. She wasn't sure what a phone had to do with her and Eleven spying together through the void to talk while the Byers vehicles were racing towards New York, but she went along with it. "El and I just had a lot to catch up on," she replied with a warm smile, the small brunette playing it off well enough for the stranger in her home to be convinced.
"Nina, this is my mother Victoria." Billy gestured from one to the next. "Mom, this is Nina."
Victoria rose from her reclined spot at the dinner table, in the process of her coffee being graciously exchanged for wine by Elena. "It's so nice to meet you, dear. I can't wait to show you around Seattle."
Nina, still mildly lacking on social cues, shook Victoria's hand with a polite smile.
Jordan nodded his head towards the table, taking a seat at the head with a slim glass of scotch.
The air remained softly uncomfortable for all but Victoria as conversation bounced around the table during the meal. Everyone was waiting for her to ask the question that none of them wanted to answer.
The question that none of them were ready to answer.
There was no shortage of people around the world who wanted to know more about the fateful fourth of July, especially because Jordan Rivers' name was dragged into it and fueled a public outcry for patriotism.
A week after the disaster at the mall, page three of the New York Times held an article titled: Famed Author's Daughter Slain in Communist Attack?
It didn't take long before the phone calls rolled into the Rivers' house, followed soon by reporters at the door until Hawkins Police, mourning their Chief, had to start detaining people for trespassing on private property.
Next to seeing Tatum's face everywhere they went in town, the article and the attention that it brought was a driving force in the family leaving town.
The only reason they hadn't left yet was so they could see Billy off to college.
Several questions were thrown around the table from Victoria, but none of them were the question.
She wanted to know about his life since her departure from it, if he was still surfing and if he did well in high school. Did he play sports? Did he have a lot of friends? What kind of music did he like to listen to?
Victoria even made a strong effort to talk to the rest of the family and dissect their lives, all while managing not to bring up who should've been sitting in the empty chair at the table.
Ben and Nina had to be more fabricated with their explanations of what life looked like for them, including Nina having spent all of her school years until now at an American boarding school in Belgium and she wasn't ready to move with the family last fall, and Ben claiming to have served in the Royal Air Force instead of the Soviet Army.
Victoria seemed convinced enough.
They waited and waited for her name to come up, but as the plates were emptied and dinner came to a close, Tatum was never mentioned.
It was when Victoria asked to speak to Billy alone that the air shifted.
Victoria settled down on the porch bench, blood humming with two glasses of wine as she enjoyed the warm August night. "I like the cicadas," she said as Billy joined her, staring up towards the sky. "We don't have them in Washington."
Billy took a sip of his drink, a cola that Jordan had spiked for him right as his mother slipped out of view. "They're nice," he replied mildly, catching himself glancing toward the Jeep in the driveway several times.
He wondered if it still smelled like her.
"You talked about her so much before."
He stilled, slowly lowering his glass as he looked to Victoria. "What?"
Victoria lifted a hand above her, referencing the house. "Her. We're having dinner at her parents' house the night before we send you off to a school that they're paying for. Her parents. Her siblings. Her home. And nobody mentioned her all night."
Billy's brows drew in. "Mom...it's not like she's just gone for the week or the month. She's not on a trip."
"Someone could have at least talked about her, even for just a little bit," Victoria said with a shrug.
"It's hard to talk about her, even the little things." He tried not to be offended by her brashness, but his heart panged. "We're not there yet."
I'm not sure we ever will be.
"Jordan and Elena lost a daughter. Ben and Nina lost a sister," Billy told her. "That isn't something that just goes away, especially not so soon."
Did the words exist to explain just how important Tatum was?
Could he do it without ruining the façade of a non-supernatural world for his mother?
Tatum's memory would have to remain preserved, capsuled away for those who traipsed through hell with her, tormenting them with grief while the rest of the world simply moved on.