Hawkins — Saturday Morning
Lena didn't tell her mother where she had been. She just slipped back into her room through the window, covered in dirt and pine needles, her eyes hollow.
She didn't sleep. She barely breathed.
What she saw… what the black-eyed boy said...
> "You were never supposed to exist."
The words echoed in her bones like a curse.
She sat on her bedroom floor, staring at the mirror across the room. She didn't dare approach it. Not after what happened in the cabin. The broken reflections still danced in her head—fractured versions of herself, reaching, whispering.
She ran her fingers across her wrist. The place where her hand touched the glass was warm now, like something left a mark beneath her skin.
A scar she couldn't see.
---
Will didn't go home either.
He sat outside the cabin after dragging Lena back into the woods and lying to a concerned hiker who passed them on the trail. Said she fainted from low blood sugar. He didn't know why he bothered. Hawkins never really listened.
He couldn't stop thinking about her words:
> "I was never meant to exist."
What did that even mean?
Was she like Eleven? Created? Pulled from somewhere else? Or… worse?
He thought about all the things they'd survived. The Upside Down. The Mind Flayer. The vines. The monsters.
None of them had eyes like the boy in the mirror.
None of them smiled while watching.
---
Later that day…
Lena stood in the hallway, outside a locked closet in her house.
It had always been locked. Since they moved in.
She tried the knob. Still wouldn't turn.
But today… she had to know.
She pressed her palm to the wood—and it clicked.
The door creaked open.
Inside were boxes. Old ones. Dust-covered, but untouched. She sifted through them until one caught her eye: CHICAGO, 1982.
Her hands trembled as she opened it.
Inside were documents. Medical files. Photos.
Her birth certificate—except the name on it said: "Subject: L-07."
Lena's heart dropped.
Her picture—maybe age five—was stapled to a folder labeled "Experimental Cognitive Resonance Trials — HAWKINS EXTENSION"
Her mother's name was blacked out.
There was another file tucked in the corner.
Project: Echo Glass
And beneath it…
Photo of Dr. Martin Brenner.
Lena staggered back. "No… this can't be real…"
The man from the stories. The man from El's past.
And Lena had been part of it?
---
Will sat on his bed that night, staring at the walkie-talkie. He wanted to call someone—Mike, maybe Dustin. Even Lucas.
But he didn't.
They wouldn't believe him.
He opened his sketchpad instead. Drew a girl with glass in her veins. A figure of light wrapped in darkness.
He didn't sign it.
Just wrote one word under the image:
"Lena."
---
Sunday — Forest Edge
They met in the clearing again.
Neither spoke for a while.
Then Lena said, "I found files. At my house. I wasn't adopted. I wasn't born. I was made."
Will didn't flinch.
She continued, "I think my mom used to work for them—the lab. Then she took me and ran. Changed my name. Changed everything."
Will looked at her, eyes soft. "That doesn't change who you are."
She laughed bitterly. "You don't get it. I'm not just someone with weird dreams. I'm a science project."
"No," Will said. "You're Lena. You saved me. You saw me. When no one else could."
She swallowed hard.
"And I think," he added, "that's why we found each other."
She looked up, tears in her eyes. "You don't know what I am."
He stepped closer, gently touching her cheek. "Maybe not. But I know what you're not. You're not a monster."
And then, before she could say anything else, Will leaned in.
Their lips touched—soft, unsure, but real.
It was the first time in days the static went quiet.
---
But deep beneath Hawkins, in the remains of the old lab, something had begun to move.
Dust floated upward in an invisible wind.
Lights sparked on.
In the darkness, a figure opened its eyes.
Black. Empty.
The boy from the mirrors stepped forward, barefoot on cold concrete.
Behind him, test tubes cracked open—each one filled with liquid.
Some of them… still had bodies inside.
He smiled.
> "Soon."
---
Back at Lena's house…
She stared at her reflection again.
But this time, it stared back like a person.
Not a mirror.
Her own face moved independently.
Spoke.
> "He's not what you think he is."
Lena whispered, "Who?"
> "Will."
Her heart sank. "You're lying."
> "He's marked. Just like you. The black-eyed boy didn't come for you. He came for both of you."
Lena backed away. "No… Will's—"
> "A tether. You're the lock. He's the key."
The mirror shattered on its own.
---
End of Chapter 4