The living room felt too small for the number of people inside it. The curtains were drawn, the late-evening light leaking through in sickly orange slats across everyone’s tense faces. No one spoke at first—Nancy had just finished describing everything Henry Creel showed her, her voice shaking in places where she tried to keep it steady. The air itself seemed to hold its breath.

You weren’t listening. You couldn’t. Because part of you wasn’t really here anymore.

Your vision kept drifting—one second you were in the living room, the next you were falling backward into the dark hum of the Upside Down, the way you had earlier, during your first near-kill. The phantom pressure around your throat, the memory of bones bending, the crushing dread—Vecna’s murmur still echoed somewhere behind your eyes.

Nancy pulled in a breath and finished her recounting. “And then he said… he said he just needed one more.”

A heavy silence slammed down. Even the house seemed to recoil.

Lucas swallowed hard. His voice cracked as he repeated the words that had been rattling inside his head since the lake. “Four murders, four gates…”

The phrase dropped into the middle of the room like a gravestone.

Everyone turned to you.

Max’s fingers curled around the edge of the blanket in her lap. Dustin’s mouth opened, closed, then opened again, but no sound came out. Steve’s jaw clenched; he shifted like he wanted to move in front of you, shield you from something he couldn’t even see.

You just stared back, feeling the weight of their eyes—sadness, fear, resignation. A cold realization spread through your chest like leaking anesthesia: they all knew.

You were the fourth.

Eddie was the last to move. He had been sitting on the carpet leaning against the sofa—too wired to sit still, too exhausted to pace. When Lucas spoke, Eddie’s whole body flinched like he’d been struck. He dragged both hands down his face, fingers trembling slightly, then covered his eyes entirely.

“Don’t—” His voice broke. He shook his head hard. “Don’t say it like it’s already decided.”

Dustin swallowed. “Eddie… we’re not saying—”

“Well it sounds like you are.” Eddie’s words came out sharp, desperate. He still didn’t look up. “It sounds like everyone’s just… giving up.”

You finally found your voice, though it felt like it had to claw its way out of your throat. “Eddie…”

He exhaled shakily and let his hands fall. His eyes were red, not from crying—Eddie Munson never cried in front of people—but from the effort of refusing to.

“Don’t,” he said again, softer this time. “Don’t talk like you’re already halfway gone.”

Your breath hitched. The room wavered. You weren’t sure if it was fear or Vecna’s influence creeping in again.

Max scooted forward on the couch, voice barely above a whisper. “It doesn’t mean we can’t stop him.”

“We had music,” Dustin said, frustration radiating off him. “But we don’t even know if that works twice. We don’t know what he’s planning. We don’t—”

“So then we figure it out.” Steve crossed his arms, eyes fiercely determined. “We always figure it out. Nobody is dying. Not on our watch.”

Robin nodded vigorously beside him. “Yeah. And if Vecna thinks he’s just gonna stroll in here and add you to his creepy bone-collection? Screw that. We’ll blast music, we’ll tie you to the chair, we’ll—”

“Robin,” Nancy said gently, placing a hand on her shoulder.

Robin blinked, then winced. “Right. Sorry. Not helping.”

You pressed your palms together to keep them from shaking. You weren’t sure what terrified you more—Vecna’s voice curling through your mind like smoke… or the grief already forming on your friends’ faces.

Eddie pushed off the couch and knelt in front of you. His expression was raw, unguarded, the bravado gone.

“Hey.” He reached out like he wanted to touch your arm, then hesitated, fingers hovering. “You’re not going anywhere. You hear me? I don’t care what creepy wizard-ass Vecna thinks. We’re keeping you here.”