Chapter 54: Chrissy's Visions Begin
Chrissy
The hallway flickered.
One second, normal Hawkins High—lockers, fluorescent lights, students between classes.
Next second, wrong. Dark. Decayed.
The walls cracked, covered in organic growth. Lights shattered. Students became shadows. And in the distance, underneath everything, metallic chiming. Like grandfather clock counting down.
Then normal again. Three seconds total.
"Chrissy?" Laura, my cheer captain, touched my shoulder. "You okay? You just froze."
"Yeah. Sorry. Just tired." I forced a smile. "Long week."
"Tell me about it. You coming to practice?"
"Can't. Family thing."
I walked away quickly, heart racing. What was that? Hallucination? Stress-induced vision? Something worse?
Found my car, drove straight to Steve's house.
Steve
Chrissy burst into the bunker looking terrified.
"I saw something," she gasped.
Everyone turned. My corruption flared hot—danger sense triggering.
"What did you see?"
"The hallway. But wrong. Decayed. Dark. Like pictures you showed me of the Upside Down." She grabbed my arm. "It lasted three seconds, then normal again. And I heard something. Chiming. Like a clock."
My blood went cold.
Clock chiming. Reality flickering. Visions of decay.
Vecna's curse. Season 4. Shouldn't happen for eighteen months. But Chrissy was showing symptoms now.
"Come with me." I led her to the medical bay. "Dr. Owens!"
Dr. Owens
The tests came back clean. No dimensional infection, no tunnel exposure, no contamination markers. Chrissy Cunningham was physiologically normal.
But Steve's face held horror I'd never seen from him.
"Tell me exactly what you saw," he demanded.
Chrissy described it—reality flickering, Upside Down overlay, clock chiming.
"Does that mean something to you?" I asked Steve.
"Yeah. It means she's in danger." He turned to Chrissy. "Have you experienced trauma recently? Guilt about something? Darkness you can't shake?"
"I... my mom. The pressure. Expectations. Sometimes I feel like I'm drowning." Her voice cracked. "Why? What's happening to me?"
Steve pulled out a Walkman from his backpack, loaded tape into it. "This is going to sound insane, but I need you to listen. If you have more visions, if they get stronger, play music immediately. Your favorite songs. Music disrupts... what's causing this."
"Steve, you're scaring me."
"Good. You should be scared. But I'm going to keep you safe." He looked at me. "Dr. Owens, I need full monitoring. Chrissy doesn't leave bunker alone. Someone's always with her. Especially El."
"What exactly are we protecting against?"
"Something that won't make sense. Something that shouldn't be active yet." Steve's corruption pulsed. "But my changes are accelerating everything. Future threats becoming present dangers."
Eleven
Steve brought Chrissy to me.
"I need you to do something," he said.
"What?"
"Stay close to her. If she has visions, if reality flickers for her, use your powers. Ground her. Keep her anchored to this world."
"Why me?"
"Because you're the strongest psychic we have. And Chrissy needs protection from something hunting people like her."
"What's hunting her?"
Steve hesitated. "I don't know exactly. Not yet. But I know the signs. And I know music helps." He handed Chrissy the Walkman. "Your favorite song?"
"Kate Bush. Running Up That Hill."
"Perfect. Play that if visions start. Don't stop until they pass."
Chrissy looked between us. "You think something's targeting me specifically?"
"I think you're showing sensitivity to dimensional rifts. You see through realities easier than most people. That makes you valuable—and vulnerable."
"Steve—"
"I won't let anything happen to you. I promise."
The corruption on his face pulsed darker. He meant it. Would burn himself to ash keeping that promise.
Chrissy
That night, Steve sat beside me while I tried to sleep. Headphones on, Kate Bush playing softly.
"This is because of the Upside Down, isn't it?" I asked. "Being around you, around all this, it's making me... sensitive."
"Maybe. I don't know." He held my hand—cold, corrupted, but still Steve's. "I'm sorry. For dragging you into this."
"You didn't drag me. I chose to stay." I squeezed his fingers. "What's really happening? What aren't you telling me?"
"There's something out there. In the Upside Down. It hunts people with trauma, with guilt, with darkness they can't shake. And it kills them." His voice went hollow. "In another timeline, another version of events, it kills you."
"But this isn't that timeline."
"No. But you're showing symptoms eighteen months early. My changes are cascading forward, accelerating threats." He touched my face gently. "I can't lose you, Chris. Not to this. Not to anything."
"Then we fight it. Together."
"Together."
But his eyes held knowledge he wasn't sharing. Fear that ran deeper than monsters or corruption.
Steve
Chrissy fell asleep eventually, headphones still on, music playing.
I stayed, watching her breathe, watching for signs of vision-trance.
Vecna shouldn't be active. Won't be for eighteen months in canon. But Chrissy's showing early sensitivity. Why?
The Mind Flayer whispered: Your changes echo forward through time. You saved the cheerleader, altered her trajectory, strengthened her connection to you. Now she's marked. Visible to things that hunt across dimensions.
I'll protect her.
You said that about the teacher. The one who dies in every iteration. How many promises can you keep before reality demands payment?
As many as it takes.
We'll see.
Dr. Owens entered with test results. "Steve, her brain activity is unusual. Theta waves spiking during described visions. It's like she's... accessing alternate frequencies."
"Dimensional sensitivity."
"Essentially. Her consciousness can perceive multiple realities simultaneously for brief moments." He set down the charts. "The question is why. And why now."
"Because I changed things. Saved people who should have died. Altered relationships. Created new patterns." I looked at Chrissy sleeping. "And somehow that made her vulnerable to something that shouldn't be active yet."
"Can we stop it?"
"I don't know. But I'll die trying."
The Walkman played softly—Kate Bush's voice a shield against darkness.
Outside, November cold pressed against windows.
Inside, corruption spread further across my chest.
And in the Upside Down, eighteen months ahead of schedule, something ancient began paying attention to the girl who wasn't supposed to survive.
What have I done? I whispered.
The clock chimed in my mind, counting down to horrors I'd accidentally accelerated.
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