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hawkinspostbite · 5 years

Text

a soft place to land

a little thing i’ve been working on since the beginning of may. it’s a mess and it sucks but it’s different so here you go -

Words: 9,166

MASTERLIST

A/N: I do not claim to, nor do I own Stranger Things; the concept, characters, plot, etc.

Part One: “You roll your own”

“Another man found dead in Indianapolis this weekend. The man, aged thirty-four, was found in the back seat of his own car. The apparent cause of death is asphyxiation, though an autopsy is to be performed. More on that story, later-“ She leaned over to press the button on the stereo, turning it off.

Carole looked over at her from the driver’s seat, then turning her attention to Vicki, who was perched in the back. “Jesus, am I the only one here who’s a little suspicious of all those men dying in the city?”

“What does it matter Vicki? They’re in the city, that’s like an hour away.” Carole responded.

“Yeah, but what if it’s not actually just random deaths, and what if it’s a serial killer or something?”

She couldn’t help but laugh.

“What? What’s so funny Colette?” Vicki whined at her.

“There’s no serial killer running around Indiana, not one that simply locks their victims in their running car at least.” She turned back to look at her friend, placing her hand on top of Vicki’s. “There’s nothing to worry about. You don’t own a car, so there’s no way for them to kill you.”

Vicki’s face dropped as the three girls laughed at her. “You can be a real bitch sometimes Colette.” She grabbed her bag and climbed out of the vehicle.

“Oh, you have no idea.” Colette replied, and the other three followed in Vicki’s actions.

Carole took a deep breath in, inhaling the cold, damp Indiana air. “Another morning in paradise.” She sighed, joining her friends as they leaned on her car, watching their classmates gather in the school courtyard for the day.

“That used to be only half-true.” Tina’s gaze followed the sight of a blue Camaro ripping through the parking lot. “Check out this one.”

The four of them watched as the car stopped, and from the passenger door, a red-headed girl got out. Without one word, she stepped on her skateboard and rode off towards the middle school. From the driver’s side, a boy stepped out. He wore a denim jacket over a white shirt, clinging tightly to his toned torso, paired with some very tight jeans and a pair of boots.

“Damn.” Vicki breathed.

“I thought you weren’t into guys with long hair?” Colette whispered. Vicki shrugged in response.

“Who is that?” Carole asked aloud.

“I don’t know, but would you check out that ass? Just look at it go.” Tina smirked, and the girls watched as the new kid walked towards the school. Colette rolled her eyes, picking her bag up from its spot on the hood and walking towards the school. She waited, shortly after hearing her friends follow her, ready to start another wonderful day at Hawkins High.

Carole had gained herself a session of after-school detention, and Colette found herself seated atop the hood of Carole’s car, digging through her bag. Billy watched her from afar.

She pulled a plastic bag out, it was about a third of the way full of skinny, cylindrical objects. She opened the bag, pulling one out, and then placing it back into her backpack. She then began to search for something else.

A lighter.

That was his chance.

He began to walk across the parking lot to her, in the direction of his car, but mostly towards her. On his journey he pulled a cigarette from his pocket, as well as his lighter. He cleared his throat. “Need a light?” He flicked the dial, lighting his own cancer stick.

She turned to him, unfazed. “Yes, please.” She smiled, placing the stick between her lips and leaning towards him. He stroked the dial again and watched as the paper lit. She took a long drag before leaning back to her previous position.

“You roll your own?” Billy asked, placing his lighter into his pocket.

She nodded. “I’m what you might call, a “naturalist”.” She took another drag. “I buy my papers, I buy my tobacco, I roll them. I don’t believe in all the other bullshit that’s in those.” She pointed towards Billy’s cigarette.

He raised his eyebrows. “These?”

“Yeah, those. There’s like hundreds of disgusting chemicals in them. Formaldehyde, that’s what they use to preserve severed body parts. Arsenic, that’s literally rat poison, and also tar. You’re smoking tar.” She took yet another drag of her own. “You are smoking tar. Need I say anything else?”

“Interesting…” He made a note to himself, earning a small smile from her. “I’m Billy Hargrove, by the way.”

“Colette Wicks.”

The pair shared a few minutes of silence, which was then cut short by Carole’s arrival. “Oh, hey Billy. I see you’ve met Colette. Isn’t she nice?” She said, unlocking her door. Colette couldn’t help but laugh.

She climbed off the hood. Billy took a step away as she stomped out her cigarette. “She’s a charmer.”

“Well, we better get going. I have to figure out a way to hide this detention slip Rogers practically glued to my notebook.” Carole held up her notebook as proof, showing that Rogers did, in fact attach a detention slip to it.

Billy nodded, catching Colette’s eye as she got into the car.

“Hey,” Carole smiled up at him. “There’s a party at my house tomorrow night. Why don’t you stop by?”

He took a moment to ponder the thought. In California, Billy was the life of the party. “Colette’s going.” Carole added.

“I’ll see if I can make it.” He smiled back at her.

With a wave, Carole pulled away, leaving Billy alone in the parking lot.

Colette arrived home to an empty house. Her mother was always late. She would wait until her mother arrived home to eat dinner, although she didn’t feel hungry. She never felt hungry. She never felt much of anything.

Colette had left her shoes by the door, and her coat on the floor. She made her way to the back door, peering out the window pane and into the yard. Amidst the dead winter grass stood a tall, branchy tree. A few stray yellow buds hung onto the lower limbs, and dried seed pods littered the ground around it.

She remembered when her father had brought it home. It was just a little sapling, only two feet tall, with one small branch. He had just come home from England, and thought it a good idea to bring Colette her first plant. Along with it he had brought a book, titled ‘Plants & Leaves’. “Laburnum anagyroides”, it was called. “But it’s non-scientific name is simply: common laburnum.” Her father had said. She helped him to plant it, and watch it grow. And now it had grown to be a great, strong tree.

Colette started at the tree. At the branches, the drying leaves, and pods, and then her eyes came down to the trunk. And the little stone cross that sat askew at the base. She knew why the cross was there. For her father. But she never knew how he died. She remembered his funeral. She thought about it often.

She remembered her mother and grandparents. And the entire extended family. The room was hot, and her dress was itchy. And everyone cried. There were tissues everywhere. She had wanted to badly to walk around the room and pick up the discarded tissues. She made a mental note about how rude it was that people just dropped them on the ground. She had also remembered the ending. Where she and her mother greeted everyone as they paid their final respects to her dad. She remembered every person that was there. But most importantly she remembered the way her mother pinched the back of her arm, unprompted, hard enough to break skin.

When she was younger, she had never realized why her mother had done that.

Her mother had pinched her, to make her cry.

Colette hated parties. She found no enjoyment in allaying the nervous system, or dancing with random classmates. Despite her distaste for parties, she was often in attendance of them. Carole always dragged her to them, the excuses varied from believable to ridiculous. “I need a DD.”, “Tina’s mom just got a new six-tape cassette player”, “Tommy said he needs help painting the living room.” She stood in the corner of the living room, of whoever’s house they were at, sipping slowly at the same bottle of water she kept all night, and watching with disgust as students of Hawkins high melted away to nothing.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a figure approaching her. Upon a second glance, she saw that it was Billy. “Why the long face?” He tilted his head, studying her face. She knew the exact expression that was on her face - Her eyebrows were furrowed, her eyes squinting to focus on specific people, and her lips curved into a frown. It was her default.

“I’m not a party-person.” She replied, looking up at him. “Truth be told, this is the last place I would like to be right now. I’ve got things to do tomorrow.” She checked her watch. It was the third time she had checked it in the past thirteen minutes, as if checking it more frequently would make the time go by faster.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” Colette blinked at him, slightly annoyed by his prying. But the humanity in her knew that he was only trying to be polite, and make conversation.

“I have a weekend course at the Indiana University, in Indianapolis tomorrow.” Billy nodded, taking genuine interest in what she was saying. “I favor chemistry-“

“So that’s how you know everything that’s in a cigarette?”

She narrowed her eyes at him, frustrated that he interrupted her. “I favor chemistry.” She nodded. “I take weekend courses once a month, in which we study different topics. The first seminar I ever took was on the topic of cigarettes - From then on I have never bought a pack. I roll my own.”

“What are you studying this weekend?” Billy asked, taking a mouthful of beer.

“Substances of the human body.” She replied, taking another sip of her water. Billy sputtered, a slight stream of beer dribbling down his chin. “You’ve got something on your chin.” Colette reached out to wipe it away.

Billy’s eyes softened at her gesture. Until that moment he thought he would never see an ounce of emotion from Colette. “Maybe I could come with you sometime. To one of your seminars.”

She shook her head. “They’re invite-only. No guests. You have to know people.”

“Who do you know?” He asked, a tinge of jealousy in his words.

“My father used to work for IU. That’s who I know.” She lied. Her mother had told her to stop lying - Lying painted a bad image in other people’s heads. And yet, lying is how Colette thrived.

She looked at her watch again. “I’m going now.” She pushed herself from the wall, heading towards the door. Inside, Billy panicked, his hand frantically grabbing her’s. Colette stopped, staring in confusion at the boy behind her.

His mouth hung open, he was even shocked by his own actions. “Let me take you home.”

“You’ve been drinking.” She said, eyes traveling to read the label on the bottle in his hand.

“You’re right - You’re right.” He sighed. “Idiot!” “Let me at least walk you outside? So I can make sure you get on your way safely. It’ll help me sleep tonight.” He smiled at her.

Colette nodded, dropping his hand. If it wouldn’t raise any suspicions to her walking home alone in the middle of winter, then she would let him walk her to the door. With his hand pressed to the small of her back, she guided him through the crowd of people. When they reached the front door, Billy leaned down to give her a small kiss on the cheek, to which Colette did not respond.

“Be careful.” He said.

“I’m always careful. It’s other people we need to worry about."

The next morning Colette was on the bus “Northbound to Indianapolis” at six, and she was free in the city by nine. She left her bag with the doorman at the hotel. Check-in wasn’t until eleven, so she began to explore the city. Each time Colette visited the city she ventured further south, determined that one day, she would reach the last street.

Looking down at her map, she stopped, and above her was the glowing neon sign of a bar, the bar. “Lil Joe’s Down Below”. She uncapped the red marker from her pocket and made a cross over the spot on her map. At the top of the page she scribbled “November 1984”, folded up the paper, and began walking back towards the center of the city.

Upon returning to the hotel, she checked in, took a nap, changed her clothes, and then headed back out. She carried few things with her, only the necessities. Her bag of cigarettes, lighter, I.D, November map and twenty dollars cash. She looked up. In all of it’s neon glory, the bar sign illuminated her in fluorescent pink.

At the door the bouncer asked for her I.D, to which she complied, flashing him the I.D of Lucille Todd, a newly thirty-year old, resident of Terre Haute. For a bar on the southern end of the city, “Lil Joe’s” was decent. AC/DC blasted from all angles and people flooded the dance floor.

Colette took a spot at the bar, ordering nothing more than a simple sparkling water, with one slice of lime. And then she waited.

A short time later, a man, who seemed to be in his thirties made his way to the bar, ordering a bourbon, straight. Colette sat upright, gripping the $20 between her fingers. “Let me get that.” She placed the bill in front of the bartender. “Cover mine too.”

The man looked at her. “I’m usually the one buying the ladies drinks. Thank you though.” He stepped closer.

“How many drinks have you had tonight?” Colette asked.

The man rolled his eyes. “Geez, probably about seven or eight, not counting the shots.”

The glass of bourbon was set down in front of him. Colette smiled. “Michael Fahringer.” He stuck his hand out for her to shake.

She nodded. “Michael, the bourbon drinker. Lucille Todd, I drink a vodka tonic.” She was lying again.

“Well, Lucille, the vodka drinker,” he took a sip of his drink. “Did you happen to come here alone tonight?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” She noticed a thin gold band on his left hand.

“Me? Yes. Yes I did. I did come here alone. This, don’t worry about this.” He rugged at his ring. “My wife and I, we’re separated right now.”

“Well then I suppose your ex-wife, wouldn’t mind if I-“ She leaned forward, placing her lips on his.

Michael let go of the glass and placed his hands on her hips. “What do you say we get out of here?” He asked.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Colette led Michael out a side entrance, and into the alley. “There’s no cabs down here at this time of night, we’ll have to walk back to my place.” Colette sighed. “I need a cigarette first.” She pulled a stick from her bag, using her lighter to ignite the it. “You smoke?” She asked.

“Yeah.”

“You want one?” Michael nodded his head as she handed him one. She lit the end, and watched in silence as he took a few drags. She breathed in deeply, inhaling the pure taste of her cigarette. She held her cigarette, watching Michael closely. A harsh cough interrupted the silence.

“Shit.” Michael coughed again.

“Are you okay?” She knew he wasn’t.

“No- I don’t know. My chest burns.” He wheezed, struggling for air. “I feel dizzy. Do you have any water? My mouth burns.” Falling to the ground, Michael’s legs became tense. The cigarette dropped from his hand.

He looked at it. “Fuck, what did you do to me?” Colette bent down beside him, crushing the cigarette beneath her boot. She looked him in the eye, and didn’t respond. “You roll your own cigarettes.” He choked.

She reached her hand out to touch the ashes of the dying cigarette. His left hand raised, slashing her palm. “Shit!” She stood up, clutching her injured hand.

He had grabbed a shard of broken glass while he was laying, in an attempt to protect himself. It was no use. Colette pried the shard from Michael’s weak hand, placing it in her bag. Below her, Michael wheezed, no longer able to speak, his eyes pleaded for his own life. On the concrete he shook, his mouth began foaming. Until suddenly, he was still. Colette stood above him, as he let out a final breath. His eyes rolled back, and he laid lifeless as her feet.

Her work was done.

On Monday Colette returned to school. Everything was the same, except for the cut on her palm, which she had concealed with a band-aid. She knew she should have gone to the hospital to get stitches, but checking herself into the hospital was dangerous. She would have had to provide information, which in return would leave a paper trail, which could lead right back to the scene of this crime. Quite literally.

“Did you guys hear about another murder that happened in the city?” Vicki’s voice came pouring into Colette’s ears, shrilly, at lunch. “Another man - But this time he wasn’t in his car, he was just found in an alley.”

“Was he hurt?” Carole asked, genuinely curious.

“No. There wasn’t a single mark on his body. Police said he suffocated.”

“How did he suffocate if there weren’t any ligature marks on his neck?” Colette asked. All eyes turned to her. “Most times when someone suffocates, there’s evidence. Strangulation - something wrapped around their neck. Smothering - Fabric fibers left on the skin. Closed airways, or a collapsed lung. He couldn’t have just choked on nothing.”

Vicki shook her head. “His blood alcohol levels were spiked, but that’s about it.”

“Last time I checked alcohol can’t make you suffocate.” Tina said.

“It can if it goes down the wrong tube.” Colette replied.

“Tell us, Doctor Wicks.” Carole leaned into the conversation, grinning.

“In your throat there are two tubes - the food pipe, the esophagus, and the wind pipe, the trachea. The trachea leads directly to your lungs, and the esophagus to your stomach. Sometimes your food or drinks accidentally redirects itself “down the wrong pipe”.” She paused. “It is completely possible for you to drown without being submerged in water. If you swallow water down your trachea, it will sit in your lungs and become infected, thus, not allowing air to filter through properly, and then you die.”

“Wow.” Vicki said. “So do you think he swallowed his alcohol down the wrong tube?”

“Possible.” Colette shrugged.

“Anybody wanna go to the mall after school?” Tina asked. Vicki and Carole immediately agreed.

“Sorry, I can’t. I’ve got some stuff to do around the house.” The three girls rolled their eyes. Colette wasn’t lying this time, she really did have some things to do around the house. Plus, the nearest mall was forty minutes away - in Carmel. And she didn’t particularly feel like taking a road trip on a Monday night.

Just as soon as the conversation began, it was over. And Colette’s friends had moved onto a new topic of discussion. Across the lunch room, she noticed Billy watching her. He smiled at her, and she returned the gesture, before focusing back on the conversation her friends were having.

Colette arrived home that afternoon. An empty house was routine now. Her mother never returned home from work until late. Leaving her shoes and coat by the door, Colette locked the door behind her, inspecting each of the rooms in the house - Making sure each window was locked, curtains drawn. She checked on the tree out back. Still dry, dying, and yet magnificent as ever.

She turned the light on in the kitchen, taking her mortar and pestle out of the cabinet. On the stove the piece of glass that her latest victim used to injure her sat wrapped in a piece of cloth. She unwrapped it, placing it in the mortar. Slowly she began to grind down the glass, working away at it until it was nothing but a fine powder.

From her bedroom she brought out her rolling papers and tobacco, which she kept safely in her nightstand. Not to be confused with the two bags of already-rolled cigarettes, which were also vastly different - One was safe and the other was not.

Into the mortar she put one handful of tobacco, making sure to fully incorporate the sand with it, before beginning to roll her new cigarettes. Out of the latest batch she rolled sixteen, which she placed into the bag full of not-safe cigarettes. She washed out the mortar and pestle thoroughly, three times to be exact, before drying it and placing it back in the cupboard. She cleaned the stovetop and counters with disinfectant bleach, making sure to leave no trace of debris behind. Then she took the cloth that had once held the piece of glass and went into the bathroom.

Kneeling over the toilet, Colette lit the fabric on fire, watching as it flaked off into ash into the toilet. When it was finally done, she flushed the remnants, then cleaning the toilet bowl with bleach. She washed her hands, before continuing on with her night, as if she didn’t just roll glass into cigarettes.

—

Part Two: “The tree, my tree”

In the months since knowing Colette, Billy had become completely enamored with her. In January they went out on their first date. In February they had become an official couple. And now, in March, they were practically inseparable. Billy couldn’t count on his two hands how many things he loved about Colette. “Love.” That was a new feeling for him.

The couple spent long nights together, talking about anything and everything. Billy spoke endlessly about California, telling Colette many stories from his younger days. And Billy was curious to learn about chemistry, as well as the parts of the human body. Colette taught him everything he wanted to know.

Since November Colette had returned to Indianapolis five more times, and each time she came home having left another victim in her wake. She would leave Saturday morning, and return on Sunday night, ready to go to school the next day as if nothing ever happened. She never felt guilt, or remorse, or sadness for what she did. She never felt bad for lying to her friends and Billy about not really taking weekend seminars at IU. She never felt bad that she was stringing Billy on, giving him false hope, where no hope actually laid. She just never felt.

Now once again, it was “IU weekend”, and Colette was on the bus to Indianapolis. But what she didn’t know was Billy was too. Intent on spending a romantic weekend in the city, Billy had bought a bus ticket, and reserved a hotel room, planning to surprise Colette.

Upon arrival in the city, Colette completed her regular routine: dropping her bag off at the hotel lobby, since it was too early for check-in, scouting out her next location, then checking in to her room, napping, and heading out for the night. As always, in her possession were only the essentials - her cigarettes, lighter, I.D, March map, and twenty dollars cash. Her location of choice this time was “Mehra’s”, a dimly-lit, dingy bar, that served specifically imported whisky, and that was about it. But alas, it was still the perfect place to commit a crime.

Billy followed her earlier, as she traveled further and further downtown, struggling at some points to keep up with her on the subway, but he noticed that she ended up at a bar, “Mehra’s”, the sign read. They opened at nine, and Billy knew Colette liked to be on time to everything, so he decided that he would show up late, precisely at ten, to give her some time to loosen up before he surprised her. Billy failed to realize a few key things - How did Colette get into the bar? And how would he later?

Lucille Todd ordered a Diet Coke, with a sprinkle of cinnamon in it. And waited for her next victim to approach. Around nine-thirty, a man walked up to the bar, ordering a whiskey from Taiwan. Colette placed her $20 on the counter. “Let me get that, it’s my treat.” She smiled warmly at the man. “Cover mine too.” The bartender nodded, taking the money.

“Jeremy Schwerer.” The man stuck his hand out, Colette shook it.

“Lucille Todd.”

The pair began a conversation, in which Jeremy asked about Lucille’s life - Where she worked, lived, how old she was, etc. Of course, Colette answered with Lucille’s truth, just not with her own. After about twenty minutes, Colette was ready to go. “Want to come back to my place?” She asked. Jeremy nodded, and took Colette’s hand as she led him out the side entrance. She sighed, looking around at the corner of the building. “No cabs down here at this time of night, we’ll probably have to walk. I’m gonna need a cigarette first.”

She reached into her bag, pulling out a cigarette from the good pouch, and lighting it. “Do you smoke?” She asked, turning to Jeremy.

“Yes, but I have my own-“ He patted his pants pocket, searching for his cigarettes and a lighter.

“Have you ever tried hand-rolled cigarettes?” He shook his head. “Here, try one.” From her bag she pulled out a cigarette from the bad pouch, handing it to him. She used her lighter to ignite it for him. “Hand-rolled cigarettes are way safer than store-bought, I mean, if you’re going to become addicted to nicotine, why not become addicted to only nicotine.”

Jeremy scrunched his eyebrows, taking a puff of his stick. “Your cigarettes have thousands of toxic chemicals in them. Formaldehyde, arsenic, tar, ammonia, acetone, just to name a few. With these-“ She motioned to her cigarettes. “You get two things, tobacco and nicotine, and that’s it.”

Jeremy nodded. “It does seem lighter than my regular ones.”

“Exactly-“ Before Colette could continue, Jeremy began to cough. “Are you okay?” She knew he wasn’t. He coughed again, this time harder.

“Shit.” He gasped, his hand pressing to his lips. Blood dribbled from his mouth, causing it to splatter onto his chin. “What’s happening?”

He looked at her, trying to put the pieces together. Colette stood calmly, watching as Jeremy doubled over, groaning. He fell to the ground. “My mouth burns, my chest burns - It feels like I’m on fire.” Jeremy continued to cough. His body became tense, and pink foam came from between his lips.

“What did I just smoke?” Tears rolled down his cheeks, as he watched Colette pluck the cigarette from between his hands. She crushed it into the ground, grinding it into ashes beneath her feet. She bent over, lighting the remaining ashes ablaze, sure to leave no trace behind.

Jeremy began choking - Coughing and gasping for air. His eyes became red, tears profusely falling from them. He so desperately wanted to scream, to have anyone be able to hear him, but his lungs did not allow it. He began to seize, a pool of blood and saliva forming on the concrete beneath his head. Then, just as soon as it began, it stopped.

Her work was once again, done.

Colette walked back into the bar through the side-entrance, waving a “goodbye” to the bartender. She retreated out the front door, in a hurry to get back to her hotel room before the police were called, but at the end of the block she ran into a problem. Billy Hargrove.

“Billy! What the hell are you doing here? How did you know where I was?” She began to panic, frantically looking around her. “Billy, I have to go, now.” She pushed past him.

“Wait, wait!” He grabbed her forearm, making her stop. He studied her face. She looked worried - Billy had never known Colette to be worried. “Are you okay? Did something happen? Do I have to-“

“Something’s going to happen if we don’t leave this place right now!” She tugged her arm away from him, walking North. She had to try and remember the safest path back to her hotel without her map, puling a map out right now would be too suspicious. She stopped at the beginning of the next block. “Are you coming with me, or not Hargrove?”

Eyes wide, he ran across the street, following his girlfriend as she frantically found her way back to the hotel. Colette’s inner monologue was running rampant. She had stayed in the area too long. It had taken too long for the plants to take affect. She talked too much. She touched too much. “We have to go home tonight.” She spoke, once in the safety of her hotel room.

“But babe, I already paid for one night in my hotel room.” He stopped her pacing, holding her tightly to him. “You’re acting crazy. Did something happen?”

Colette pried herself away from Billy. “I want to go home. I need to go home.” She began pacing again. “I don’t feel good.” She began to pack her things.

“But what about your class tomorrow?”

“I don’t care, I’ll make it up next time! We need to go now!” Colette paused, taking a breath in. “Go pack your things, I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

Without another word, Billy nodded, going to his room. Ten minutes later Colette and Billy checked out of their rooms, and caught a bus back to Hawkins. Once outside of Indianapolis, Colette calmed down, though she wasn’t out of the woods yet. “I’m sorry you got worked up. I had a nice weekend planned for us.” Billy placed his arm around her shoulders, softly kissing her forehead.

Colette watched the scenery out the window, nodding slowly. “I know. I’m sorry. I just got really freaked out.”

Billy nodded back. “Try and get some sleep. I’ll wake you when we’re home.”

—

She and Billy had been dropped off at the bus station at the tip of Hawkins at three in the morning, Billy so kindly drove her home, despite his offers for her to stay at his house that night. And with a quick peck, she went inside. She was careful to be quiet as she entered, locking the for behind her. She left her shoes and coat by the door, and by force of habit she turned the backyard light on, checking on her tree. There it stood, tall and proud, just as it had done many years before.

The door to her mother’s room was shut, meaning she had turned in for the night. So Colette began her tasks. She took the bag of bad cigarettes from her nightstand, as well as the one in her bag and went out to the backyard. She dumped the contents of the bag at the base of the tree. From inside the toolshed she grabbed her mother’s container of gasoline, uncapping it and dousing the cigarette pile with it.

With tears in her eyes, Colette struck the stone on her lighter, causing a flame to spark. Holding her breath, she touched the flame to the pile of cigarettes, sending them up in an inferno. Colette stepped back, throwing her lighter into the flames.

She had come too close to being caught tonight. She had to get rid of all evidence. She had wanted to light the cigarettes on fire, as well as her tree, and just be done with it all. Be done for good. For her mother. For herself. For Billy.

Billy.

Imagine what Billy would think of her.

Colette stood outside in the cold, watching as her cigarettes, and the identity of Lucille Todd - Her hard work, burned to ash. She doused them in a heavy coat of water from the hose before using a shovel to pick them up and distribute them in her mother’s herb garden, which was dormant for the winter.

Hands frozen, eyes sore, she retreated back into the house, quietly going into her room. Colette didn’t sleep at all that night. She was too paranoid that the police would come looking for her. Or worse - That Billy would find out what she had done.

—

Colette spent the entirety of Sunday recouping from her disastrous Saturday night. She locked herself in her bedroom, not even leaving to eat or drink. She ignored her mother’s beckoning, and screened all of Billy’s calls. She tried to sleep, but just found herself running around different theories of what would happen to her. What could happen to her.

Monday morning she returned to school. “Did you guys hear about the newest murder in Indianapolis this weekend?” Vicki squealed. Colette couldn’t wait. “Well I should say attempted-murder, because the guy didn’t actually die.”

Colette dropped her fork, her blood ran cold. “What do you mean, attempted-murder?” She asked quietly.

“Well the guy was found outside in an alley, practically dead. Like he vomited up blood and was foaming at the mouth and everything, but the EMTs found a pulse on him. Now he’s in the ICU at Indiana State Hospital, he’s basically a vegetable. But how awesome is that, he survived an attempted-murder.”

Colette could feel her salad bubbling up in her stomach. Carole reached across the table, swatting at her friend. “Surviving almost being killed is not awesome Vicki! Have some respect.”

“Sorry.” Vicki rolled her eyes. “Anyway, the police are launching this whole investigation now. They’re trying to find the links between this guy and all the other guys from the past year. There has to be connections.”

“You got anything to say about this, Doctor Wicks?” Tina asked, slyly. Colette shook her head, grabbing her bag and standing up. “Where’re you going?”

“I think I’m gonna be sick.” Colette quickly ran out of the lunch room, passing Billy on the way. He got up from his table, following her into the girl’s bathroom. The salad she had eaten just fifteen minutes before made a reappearance.

“Colette, hey, are you okay?” Billy asked from outside the stall.

“Billy, this is the girl’s bathroom.” She groaned, flushing the contents down the toilet.

“I know.” He replied, leaning against the sink and waiting for her to come out. “Do you want me to take you home?”

Colette came out of the stall, nodding in response. Without a word, Billy walked her out to his car and drove her home. “Feel better.” He kissed her cheek as she left his car. “Call me later if you’re feeling better!” He called out the window before driving off.

Colette was sure she was going to spiral.

How could she have screwed up that badly? That man smoked glass! Literal glass. It was impossible. Maybe the chemicals were imbalanced. Her previous concoction was perfect, why did she have to fuck it up with some glass? Damn it.

Colette left her shoes and coat by the door, then walking to the back door to check on her tree. Colette was surprised to see the there was no longer a tree though, just a small stump. She stepped back from the window, her body feeling woozy. Rage - Or at least that’s what she assumed it was, bubbled up inside of her, starting in her stomach and rising into her heart.

Shaking, she sat on the couch, waiting for her mother to come home. At seven she arrived. Mel watched her daughter with careful eyes as she stepped into the kitchen, leaving her purse on the table. “The tree.” Colette spoke. Mel could feel the anger surging into the words. “Where is the tree?”

“I got it cut down today.” Mel turned to look at Colette. She stood before her, fists clenched.

“Why?” She was breathing heavily. “Why did you get rid of my tree?”

Mel shook her head. “You think I am so naive, don’t you Colette? Do you not think I don’t know what you’ve been doing with that tree? In the city? With your cigarettes. I can read books too!”

“Liar!”

“Liar? Me?” Mel laughed. “I think you’re a liar.” Colette shook her head. “Do you want to know why you’re a liar Colette? Do you want to know what I know? I know everything!”

“No!”

Her mother was screaming at her. “I know everything! I know that you’ve been growing that stupid tree for years, years! You have been growing it, and harvesting the seeds, and using them to kill innocent men!” Colette’s eyes widened with fear. “It’s not a coincidence - All those weekends that you went on “trips with IU”, and every time you came back, without fail, a new murder happened in the city. And the funny thing is, it’s not even the first time you killed.”

“What?” Colette’s throat felt like it was closing up.

“Do you want to know why you can’t remember how your father died?” Colette shook her head. “Because you killed him.”

“No!” Tears began to fall down her face.

“Yes! You killed your father!” Mel was growing increasingly more agitated. “You killed him with that damn tree! I should’ve known it was coming, I should’ve known something was coming. You had been reading that damn ‘Plants & Leaves’ book he brought home from the grocery store for weeks. You were seven, how was I supposed to know you were plotting to kill somebody, with a tree! - He asked you to get him a cigarette, he rolled his own, and you knew that. You knew where they were, and how he did it, because he showed you. He showed you because he wanted to “educate” you. That’s how you got all those damned books!”

“Stop it!”

“You rolled him a cigarette yourself, out of tobacco and seeds that you crushed up, seeds from that tree!”

“Stop!”

“I remember how you handed it to him, you had the prettiest little smile. And then he died, he died in bed. He died in my bed!” She grabbed her daughter’s shoulders. “How do you think that made me feel? Knowing that my own daughter killed my husband, and he died in my bed?”

“Stop! Stop!” Colette struggle against her mother.

“And you didn’t cry at the funeral. You never cried. Not even when you were a baby.” She finally let go. “Jesus Christ, I should’ve known back then, I should’ve taken you right to the fire department and left you on the front step!”

“Shut up!” Colette felt helpless.

“The reason I let you go, the reason I didn’t call the police the day you killed your father, was because I love you. I had hopes for you. I believed that you would be able to feel someday.” Mel sat down on the couch. “That was a mistake too.”

Colette stood before her mother, trembling, weak, sobs racking her body. “Go the hell to bed.” Her mother said.

The pair stayed still, watching each other uneasily, until Colette finally did as she was told.

—

Part Three: “The evil is strong”

It had been two months since Colette’s failed homicide. Two months since her mother cut down the tree. Two months since she had been caught - Not by the law, but by her mother. And every day Colette lived in fear. Fearful that the police would come, that her mother would rat her out, but most of all that Billy would find out what she had done.

She had become so fond of Billy lately. He provided comfort in a new and exciting time for her - The first time in her life she was experiencing emotion. Thus far she had felt fear, anxiety, pain, and anger. And each time Billy was there to help her through it, despite not knowing the conditions for her emotions. Colette valued Billy greatly, but he was also another source of her fear.

Quite often the pair talked about “greater forces”. About how there was a greater force inside of everyone, most people called it their “conscience”. And your conscience is either good or bad - There are no in-betweens. Colette knew that her greater force was evil, and she was worried that it would someday become stronger than herself and cause her to hurt Billy. The only person she had cared for in her entire life.

But suddenly one day it all came crashing down. It became too much, and Colette cracked.

She and Billy were laying in bed, just talking, like they always did. Until he said those dreaded words. They took her by surprise. “I love you Colette.” He said, out of the blue, after she had told a story about Tina from when they were younger.

Colette jumped off the bed. “How can you love me? You don’t even know me. You don’t know who I am Billy. You don’t know things I’ve done.” She was trying to get away from him, but she couldn’t leave her own house.

Billy was in shock. It was almost like somebody flipped a switch inside of her, the reaction was instantaneous. “Yes I do. I know you, I know you’re good.” He placed his hand on her shoulder.

She swatted his hand away. “No! No! I’m not good Billy, I am the complete opposite of good! I’ve done so many bad things that good isn’t even in the spectrum of proper ways to describe me!”

“Would you stop being so hard on yourself? People can change.”

“Not me Billy. Not for what I’ve done.”

“Colette-“ Billy sat on her bed, desperation on his face. All he wanted was for her to be happy, to feel loved, to need him. But nothing he was saying was working.

Colette felt her insides crumbling. “I can’t keep living this lie.” The words left her mouth before her brain even had a chance to stop them.

Billy tensed up. “What lie?”

Colette began to pace back and forth. There was no escaping this. Everything in her brain was replaying at the same time, every emotion she had never felt was coursing through her body. She began to panic. “Colette, what lie?” Billy shouted at her.

Her hands were shaking. She stopped for a moment, staring longingly at the boy before her. She was about to make his world come crashing down. “I killed my dad.” The words came slowly, dread dripping from every one of them. Billy was frozen.

“I killed my dad. I killed my dad.” She repeated. “I killed my dad, and many other men. But I didn’t kill you.”

Was she trying to justify her actions?

“No way.” Those were the first words that came to Billy’s mind. He couldn’t believe it. He wouldn’t believe it. There was no way. There was no way that this girl, the girl in front of him, his favorite person on the planet, the only one he’s ever loved, killed someone - Multiple someones.

“Yes.” She blinked back tears. Her heart ached for him. All those years she had never felt, were now rushing through her. Her body was on fire. Colette grabbed Billy’s hands. “I told you, I’m not good. I am evil - There’s an evil inside of me, and it’s stronger than me.” She dropped his hands. “It always has been.”

Billy became numb, hot tears fell onto his cheeks. “It has to end.” Colette whispered, turning to leave the room.

“Stop! Where are you going?” She had shut the door behind her, locking him in from the outside. Billy got up, pounding his fists on the door. “Colette! Open the door! Open it!”

Tears falling down her face, she walked down the empty hallway and into the kitchen, picking up the phone. She sobbed, hearing Billy’s frantic screams from the down hall. The phone was ringing. “Damnit! Damnit!” Billy used all the force in his body to ram the door open. He tumbled to the floor, the door beneath him. “Colette!”

Billy rushed down the hallway, expecting her to be dead on the floor, but instead she was sitting on the couch, a solemn look on her face. Her tears had stopped falling. She sniffed. “It’s over.”

He knelt onto the floor in front of her, placing his hands on her knees. “What? What’s over?”

She shook her head, a one last tear falling from her eye. “Me.” She croaked out.

Billy gripped her hands, shaking his head repeatedly. This couldn’t be real. He looked up at her, she was watching his eyes, overcome with sadness. His head whipped around to look out the front window, sirens filled the dead air, blue and red lights came into view. He swallowed his dread, putting his hands on her cheeks.

Billy kissed her one last time.

The door opened, Jim Hopper stepped through, his gun drawn. “Hands up Hargrove!” Billy placed his hands in the air, standing up. “Come here.” Jim beckoned him to stand beside him. Deputy Callahan came towards Billy, guiding him towards the safety of his patrol car.

Billy watched as Hopper brought Colette from her own house, hands tucked behind her back, bound by cuffs. Her eyes caught his, and she spoke her last words as a free woman. “I’m sorry.”

After that night Billy’s life was never the same.

—

Colette had been taken directly to the Indiana State Females Prison, where she would undoubtedly be incarcerated for the remainder of her life. The media had blown up her story, portraying her as a horrible girl, much to Billy’s disgust. Billy had spent the days following Colette’s arrest alone in his room, seeking eternal solitude. If not for Max stepping up, he would have wasted away.

Max sat with Billy while he cried, his heart aching to hold the one he loved one last time. He tried to convince himself that she didn’t do those terrible things, that one day she would be back in his arms. “You just have to cherish those eight months with her Billy.” Max had said. She tried to see the positive - If there really was any, in the situation.

Her friends had mocked her for taking time away from the to comfort her brother. But each time one of the boys made a snide comment, she defended Billy, as well as Colette, believing that there was some good within her, to have affected Billy like she did. “I wish you would’ve gotten to meet her.” Billy had said. “You would’ve liked her. She was strange.” That caused them to both smile.

As Colette’s trial began, Billy became detached from reality - Save for his little sister. He never answered when Tommy called. He looked the other way when Tina or Carole tried to speak to him. Billy just didn’t care.

Against Max’s wishes Billy kept up with Colette’s trial, listening in on the radio for updates. There were no witnesses, and little to no evidence. She had burned up all the murder weapons - The cigarettes, and her mother had gotten the tree cut down. The piece of glass that Michael Fahringer had used to defend himself had vanished. And Jeremy Schwerer was living off of a life-support machine. The only things that the police had hanging over Colette was her confession, and probable cause. Her mother refused to testify. Besides Mel, she had no other family.

The trial continued on for weeks, when it shouldn’t have. Billy hated to admit it, but Colette was indubitably guilty. It all added up. There were no weekend seminars at Indiana University. The fact that every time Colette visited Indianapolis, a murder happened lined up. There was no escaping her fate. She was guilty.

There were three days left before the jury reached a verdict. Max was in the kitchen, attempting to complete her homework, while Billy sat on the couch, desperately waiting for any word on the trial to come in. The phone rang, startling them both. Max answered, as Billy didn’t even give a second thought to the sound. “Hello?”

“Hi, is Billy home?” It was Hopper.

“Yeah, he’s right here, let me get him.” She held her palm over the receiver. “Billy, phone.”

Billy got up, emotionlessly walking to take the phone from Max. “Hello?”

“Hey kid, it’s Jim Hopper.” The chief paused, sighing longingly. “I hate to ask you this, but the prosecutor of Colette’s trial called me, he wanted to see if you’d testify tomorrow. You don’t have to do this, but I wanted to ask.”

Billy’s heart leapt out of his chest. “I don’t want to testify.” The words came out of his mouth before he could react. He was telling the truth, he really did not want to testify. “I do have something to say though.” That was also the truth. Max had helped to teach Billy about the differences between healthy and unhealthy coping mechanisms. Some healthy ones being: write down your feelings, scream into a pillow, workout, hang out with friends. And unhealthy ones being: breaking things, hurting yourself or others, not talking about things, being alone on purpose.

“What do you mean kid?”

“I wrote something. Something about Colette, I think I’d like the jury to hear it.” Hopper sighed on the other end. “I don’t know if it would sway them one way or the other, but I think it’s worth them listening to.”

Hopper nodded, though Billy couldn’t see it. “Let me call the prosecutor and I’ll get back to you.” Billy hung up. Hopper called back a few hours later, after Billy had gone to bed. Max picked up, and agreed to pass the message on to Billy.

The prosecutor said that the judge would allow Billy to speak the Colette’s sentencing. Although she most likely wouldn’t be in the room at the time he read his letter. Billy, sleepily complied, mentally preparing himself for the mental torture he would endure in the next few days.

—

Billy sat on a bench.

The room around him was stuffy. His head throbbed, and every time he blinked it felt like his left eye was going to fall out of his head. When his father had heard that Billy had been dating a serial killer, even though Billy didn’t actually know it, Neil felt it necessary to teach his son a lesson for being so damn stupid. He punished him again when he found out that Billy was speaking at her sentencing.

The punishment was a swollen eye and a busted lip.

He looked at his watch. Three hours had passed. Three excruciatingly long hours.

The trial shouldn’t have even taken that long. There was no doubt that Colette had committed the crimes. There was substantial evidence, she admitted to doing it. So why was Billy still there? There was a correct answer to his question. He had been called upon by the law.

When he received the call at home, he could hardly believe what they were asking of him. They wanted him to go to court, in front of one-hundred people, and testify against the person he loved? He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. And yet, here he was.

“The jury would like to call upon William Hargrove.” Billy sighed, standing up and walking towards the podium. He stood before the judge, and a police deputy came beside him, the Holy Bible in hand. “Mr. Hargrove, do you swear, with your right hand to God, that you will be telling the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?”

He gnawed at the healing cut on his lip. This went against everything he believed. “I swear.” He slapped his hand onto the book. The deputy guided him to a chair, seated on the podium. He looked around. To his right sat the jury, twelve stone-faced citizens of Hawkins. In front of him sat a crowd of spectators, the only familiar face being police chief Jim Hopper. To his left was the attorney responsible for putting Colette away, and at a table beside him, the one responsible for getting her out.

“Does anyone have any questions for Mr. Hargrove?” The judge spoke.

Billy spent the next two hours answering questions. He didn’t really understand what the importance of ninety-nine percent of them were, but he answered, to the fullest of his ability, with the truth. “Mr. Hargrove, do you have anything to say before you are dismissed?”

“Actually, yes, your honor. I do.” He pulled a piece of folded paper from out of his pocket. It had seen better days. “I wrote something, if you don’t mind me reading it.”

“Go right ahead.”

Billy breathed in.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the court, I did not write this letter to persuade you one way or another, but simply because I felt this needed to be said - I have never met anyone like Colette before. I know she is different. She doesn’t feel like the rest of us do, she didn’t experience pain, or sadness, or remorse until lately. That’s just how she is. There is a greater, stronger force, deep inside of her that helped her do these things. We all have a force, but most of us have better control over it. I know this, because I have felt that way for the majority of my adult life. My force is strong, but I can be stronger. Colette was not.

In the time I spent with Colette, I have never been happier. Correction - I have never been happy. It sounds weird, the thought of an unhappy person finding joy within the likes of someone who doesn’t even experience emotion at all, but it’s true. Colette helped me to realize things I had never dreamed of. She taught me so much. Rolling your own cigarettes is the safest way to smoke, how to read the sun, and so many bullshit chemical reactions, I can’t even keep track of them.

But the most important thing she taught me, the one thing that has been with me since the day we met, is that everybody deserves a place in this world, and the next. And I know, it seems ironic considering the fact that she killed a bunch of people, but she’s right. Everyone deserves someone. Everyone deserves somewhere.

Dear jury, no matter the verdict, if you do nothing else, keep these words with you.

And to Colette, no matter how your story ends. I hope you get what you wanted. I hope you get what you need. - Warmth, closure, and a soft place to land.”

@harduy

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