The walls shook with every crash from the Upside Down bleeding through. Screams. Gunshots. The wet, tearing sound of something large moving through the walls.

You were pressed against the far wall, near the broken window. The one everyone had forgotten to board up. The one that led out to the yard where the sky was the wrong color—deep red, like a wound that wouldn't stop bleeding.

A hand wrapped around your ankle.

Cold. Wrong. Long fingers digging into your skin hard enough to bruise.

The thing was pulling you. Dragging you toward the window. Toward the gap. Toward somewhere else.

And no one noticed.

Mike was yelling at Dustin about the walkie. Nancy was reloading. Steve was swinging his bat. Joyce was shielding Will with her whole body. Hopper was firing into the hallway.

No one. Not one person. Saw you being taken.

Your back scraped against the floorboards. The thing's grip tightened. The window got closer.