Chapter Text
Beth is eight years old and watching Scooby-Doo reruns with her little brother when she remembers that she died. Blood and twisted metal swim in her vision as the screen goes to static, and Jonathan’s too busy whining at the screen to notice the way she stops breathing.
(She forces herself to take a breath in, two, three, four.
Breathe out, two, three, four.
She breathes, in and out, in and out, just to remember that she can.
She breathes out the phantom pain of the seatbelt breaking her collarbone and the glass stabbing into her skin and her skull cracking open.
Slowly, surely, Beth pushes away the sound of busted car horns and screeching tires.)
The screen tunes back into the gang freeing the other dog show contestants, and Jonathan moves away from the antenna, flopping back onto the floor with her. She considers, briefly, saying something to him, but the words catch in her throat, sharp as a shattered windshield. Beth just stares at him for a while, watching the light of the screen cast shadows over him as he smiles at the adventures of Mystery Inc.
It’s the most relaxed he’s been all week, with Will deciding to go through his Terrible Twos as loudly as he can and with Mom and Dad fighting like it’s a professional sport. Beth doesn’t want to worry him with whatever is going on with her.
Eventually, she lays down on the brown carpet and goes back to watching cartoons.
(Jonathan is her little brother, and it’s her job to look after him while Mom watches Will.
Jonathan is six, and Beth is eight, and Beth is nineteen and dead.
She figures she can break down later, when he’s not there to see it.)
-:-
It’s not all at once, is the thing. It’s not like the floodgates were opened and she’s suddenly the girl who died in a car crash. She’s still Beth, who’s eight and likes Scooby-Doo and Super Friends . Who hates eating most green vegetables with the passion of a thousand suns. Who makes sure she’s always there at Jonathan’s class to walk him out of school so the other kids have less of a chance to pick on him.
But then there’s just… moments.
(Moments like when Beth picks up The Fellowship of the Ring for the first time and already knows exactly what it’s about and how much she loves it, and the theme song from the movies is stuck in her head the rest of the day.
Moments like when Beth hears “Jolene” on the radio for the first time but knows all the words by heart, a lifetime of comfort associated with the sound of Dolly Parton’s voice.
Moments like when Beth’s mom heard her humming Brittney Spears, and Beth had to lie and say she had made up the song and sit through Mom telling her how talented she was.)
Just little moments of a future that doesn’t exist, piling up on top of her.
Oddly enough, the thing she misses most about the future is the music. She’d commit unspeakable atrocities to get back The Crane Wives and Lady Gaga. There is nothing worse than having a song stuck in your head that won’t exist for at least a handful of decades.
(Beth doesn’t let herself think about her old life. Doesn’t let herself miss anything besides the music and the TV shows and the fucking internet. She ignores all personal details that came from before she was Beth Byers because for all intents and purposes, her old life doesn’t exist.
It was shitty, and it’s gone now, so there’s no point in grieving it.
She doesn’t believe it when she tells herself that, but if she says it enough it’s gotta come true eventually, right?)
-:-
Beth knows she’s her dad’s favorite, and she really wishes she wasn’t, because she really doesn’t like him. Spending time with him feels like working a shitty customer service job, only she never gets paid and the annoying customer is also her boss.
She’d hate it less if it didn’t so obviously hurt Jonathan, how much more their dad likes her in comparison. Whenever Dad takes her out for days for “just them” she wants to scream at the look her little brother gives her, wants to tell him it’s not his fault that Dad’s a piece of shit who only values whatever he deems macho and manly, wants to say she’d trade with him if she didn’t think that would just hurt him even worse.
Because Jonathan’s not what their dad wants. He’s sweet, and quiet, and would rather disappear into the background than start trouble. He’s nothing like Beth.
(Beth, whose policy for most things is Fuck Around and Find Out.
Beth, who broke an older boy’s nose last week when he called Jonathan a retard.
Beth, whose anger runs hot and runs vicious.
He’s nothing like her, and neither him nor their dad can see that that’s a good thing.)
So, Beth grins and bears it as Dad drags her to boxing matches and hunting trips and all the other violent things that would make him disappointed in Jonathan if she wasn’t there to take his attention off of him. She reminds herself that she’s eight and while she can win a fight with a fifth grader, she can’t win a fight against her dad. She comes home and immediately goes to Jonathan, and when he asks her how it went, she just shrugs and says, “I’d have rather stayed home with you and Will.”
(If she’s going to be Dad’s favorite, she’s going to make damn sure her brothers know they’re her favorites.)
-:-
Mom is as organized as a tornado, but she’s kinda the best. Case in point?
Beth bit that little shit Tommy Hagan so hard that he’s still bleeding like a geyser twenty minutes later. His blood in her mouth, coppery and gross, but the damn principal isn’t letting her out of her chair because he (correctly) assumes she won’t go to the bathroom to wash herself off when she could instead chase down Carol Perkins and make her eat dirt.
(Jonathan is sitting next to her, trying admirably not to show he’s crying, his hand holding hers tight. The principal is trying to lecture her, trying to make her apologize to Hagan. It falls on deaf ears because every time she looks at the bruise on Jonathan’s cheek, Beth wishes she had bit the freckled boy’s fingers off.)
Mom comes into the office about five minutes after Tommy's mom does. Harried and still in her work uniform, Beth finally feels guilt settling in, because Mom had to leave work for this. She looks tired, and pissed, and it’s a lot harder to stay righteous in her fury when Beth sees the dark circles under Mom’s eyes. Beth opens her mouth, to say a completely genuine apology to her Mom and a completely fake one to Hagan, but Mom just holds up a finger. Beth keeps silent, her hand in Jonathan’s, as Mom placates the principal and Mrs. Hagan. She’s a whirlwind of words and platitudes and soon Beth has three days suspension and Mom is bundling her and Jonathan outside into the car. Mom slams the door, grips the steering wheel, and exhales like a hurricane. She looks at Beth through the rearview mirror, and Beth feels tears start to well up in her eyes, because she still thinks she did the right thing but she’s sorry she bothered mom-
“So, how do you two feel about ice cream?” She smiles at their looks of disbelief. “What? That little turd had it coming! Just do it after school next time, yeah?”
(And in that moment, Beth loves her Mom so much it hurts.)
-:-
She’s sitting on the floor, eating Cheerios with Will and vaguely annoyed at the kitchen lightbulb’s flickering glow when it hits her. Just this deep, dark, sinking feeling. It feels like when you chug something ice cold and can feel it sliding heavy down your throat, nearly painful as you become aware of the length of your esophagus. It slams into her and drags through her.
The sudden, indescribable certainty that something Bad is going to happen to Will.
(Beth forces herself to breathe in, two, three, four.
Out, two, three, four.
It’s just anxiety, she tells herself. There is nothing wrong. Will is happily munching away on his Cheerios as he scribbles on a piece of paper, striking loops of red and purple and yellow. Will is fine, and Beth is just anxious about nothing because her brain is stupid.)
Beth breathes through it, annoyed with herself and the lightbulb, and is too busy trying not to panic that she doesn’t go to pick up the nubby crayons Will drops under the coffee table. He drops to all fours, retrieving it from the realm of dust bunnies and some stray lego, and when he goes to sit up, his head slams into the wooden corner.
Beth curses, then puts on a smile to calm the toddler down, calling for their Mom and trying to get a good look at the place on Will’s temple that his hands are covering. Mom comes to the rescue with an ice pack and magic get-better kisses.
(It’s only when Will has calmed down, cuddled between her and Mom as they watch Sesame Street together, that Beth realizes the cold feeling disappeared as soon as he hit his head.)