𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐚𝐲 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐄𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐀𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐌𝐞

𝟐𝟐.

Thur. 26th December 1985 | 04:22am
Jim Hopper

I slowly wake up to distorted noises coming from my radio, exhaling and turning my attention to it.

"Jim, do you copy? It's Flo. Over."

Why is Flo radioing me at this time?

I slowly reach over to my bedside table and grab my walkie, laying back down in my bed and resting the back of my free hand against my forehead.

"Yeah, I copy. What's wrong? Over." I say, glancing over at Joyce when she turns her attention towards me in confusion.

"You have to come to the Walsh residence. There's something you have to see. Over."

"Why? Is the boy okay? Over."

"Just- just get there quick. It's an emergency. Over."

"Okay well um- on my way. Over and out." I push the antenna down and wipe my eyes before getting up with a soft groan.

"Did she say the Walsh's?" Joyce asks.

"Yeah. Well- I don't know either. I'll be back home soon, kay?" I assure her as I button up my beige blouse. She nods and I go to to the bathroom to briefly brush my teeth.

I'm sure it can't be that bad. The worst thing that happened was Will being lost in the woods for a week - which, yeah, is pretty bad, but things can't really get worse than that, right?

. . .

I park my car in the driveway, not expecting the amount of police cars also parked, red and blue sirens flashing on top. I adjust my hat and the cigarette in my mouth before approaching Flo, who immediately takes it out of my mouth.

"So... what happened here?"

"I'm not really sure- I haven't gone in. You should check it out though. Phil and Calvin are already here." She informs me and I nod in understanding before making my way inside the house.

"Powell! Callahan!" I call out in await for a response since I can't particularly navigate myself around this mansion.

"Hopper! Upstairs in the bathroom!" A male voice responds in the distance, who I'd recognise to be Powell. I rush up the stairs and glance into every room until I'm met with the two men standing by a bathtub.

"Jesus! What happened here?!" I look in horror, Troy Walsh's motionless body being displayed in front of me on the floor.

. . .
Mike Wheeler | 11:47am

12/26/85'

Dear Will,'

I look down at the paper in front of me, scrunching it up and tossing it in the trash.

What is wrong with me.

12/26/85'

Will,

If I'm being entirely honest, I have a lot to say to you.

Why don't I start with 'sorry'? Yeah. I'll go with that.