Chapter 18: Family
"Ah—!"
Andy jolted awake from a dream, his body snapping upright. His heart hammered wildly in his chest, like a trapped bird trying to break out of its cage.
He gasped heavily, sweat soaking through his thin clothes and clinging stickily to his skin.
He immediately looked around.
Darkness.
Absolute, thick, pitch-black darkness where you couldn't see your own hand.
This wasn't the dim red, faintly lit darkness of the Upside Down; this was a true dark room.
But Andy wasn't afraid of the darkness itself.
At a very young age, after his powers first spiraled out of control, he discovered that darkness held no terror for him.
Because even in a completely lightless environment, he could still "see"—not with his eyes, but with his psychic power.
That perception was like invisible tentacles that could detect surrounding objects, distance, shape, and even the material and temperature of certain things.
This was a passive ability that didn't require active use; it was as natural as breathing.
So, Andy knew where he was.
He knew this was a square room, roughly ten feet by ten feet, with a high ceiling exceeding twelve feet.
The walls, floor, and ceiling were covered in thick sound-absorbing material, the surface soft yet elastic, like some kind of specialized foam.
The room had no furniture, no decorations, and not even any visible seams or edges—the entire space was like a seamless, padded box.
He also knew he was the only person in the room.
He knew two guards stood outside the door, dressed in gray uniforms and holding electric batons, alert to any movement.
He knew a patrol team passed through the corridor every fifteen minutes.
He knew this area was located on the third basement level of the Lab, specifically used to confine disobedient children like him.
The isolation room.
Andy was all too familiar with this place.
Growing up, he'd been locked in here countless times for various reasons: failing to meet ability training standards, breaking rules, attempting to escape, or worse—"unstable abilities" and "emotional loss of control."
The longest time, he'd been locked away for three whole days with only scheduled deliveries of water and food, no light, no sound, no human contact.
That time, when he was finally released, he'd almost forgotten how to speak, his eyes as hollow as if he'd lost his soul.
But Dr. Brenner would only pat his head and say, "This is for your own good, Twelve. Unstable abilities will hurt you and others. You need to learn control."
Learn control.
These two words had permeated Andy's entire childhood in the Lab.
Now, he was locked in again.
For attacking the guards, attacking Henry, and most seriously—using offensive abilities without permission.
Andy sat on the floor, back against the soft wall, burying his face in his knees.
He wanted to cry, but his tears seemed to have dried up in his dream just now.
There was only a dry ache in his throat, like it'd been scraped with sandpaper.
Then, he realized something.
In this room, he'd lost more than just light and freedom.
Loneliness—that was the true punishment.
Andy wasn't afraid of the dark because he could see.
In here, Andy could still perceive the outside world through his abilities, but at this stage, he didn't have any ability to communicate with others; he could only watch, unable to do anything.
He could do nothing... and he was afraid of loneliness.
That complete, absolute loneliness where no life responded.
In the Lab, although there were other children, they were all trained to be cold and detached, rarely communicating.
There were researchers and guards, but they were just carrying out tasks, treating him as an experimental specimen or a subject to be managed.
There was Dr. Brenner, but that wasn't a father-son bond; it was the relationship between a controller and the controlled.
Only two people had ever given him a sliver of something resembling a "human connection."
Henry.
And Eleven.
Henry... Andy remembered just now in the corridor, he'd attacked Henry, seen his pained expression, and seen him being carried away on a stretcher.
Was that real?
Was that Henry—the one who could get hurt, who would shake with pain—the real one?
Or was the monster Henry—the one merged with vines, talking about purifying the world and transforming Will—the real one?
Andy's brain fell into chaos once more.
Fragments of memory were like a shattered mirror, each shard reflecting a different scene, unable to piece together a complete picture.
He hugged his knees, his body trembling slightly from cold and fear.
Just as he was about to be swallowed by loneliness and fear, a voice rang out in his mind.
It wasn't heard through his ears, but appeared directly in his consciousness.
Soft, with a hint of hesitation, like a feather lightly brushing the surface of water:
"Are you okay? Twelve."
Andy's body froze.
Then, a warm feeling welled up from deep inside, like a small flame suddenly appearing in the dead of winter.
It was Eleven.
In this lab, among all the "special children," only Eleven possessed true, stable telepathic communication.
She didn't need physical contact, she didn't need visual connection, and she didn't even need to know the other person's exact location.
As long as she knew what the person looked like, she could enter their consciousness and communicate.
In this moment, in this absolute darkness and loneliness, Eleven's voice was like a lifeline, pulling him back from the edge of the abyss of consciousness.
"Eleven..." Andy responded in his mind, his voice trembling with emotion.
In this lab, only Eleven had the power of telepathic communication; only she could stay with Andy when he was put in isolation.
Andy could perceive and read others' memories, so he naturally knew what abilities he possessed and what he should and shouldn't do.
But Dr. Brenner didn't think that way; he only felt that Andy, as Subject 012, had failed to execute or even resisted his orders.
Maybe he truly loved Andy, or rather, he truly loved Andy and his potential.
But his love was twisted; he selfishly and hypocritically controlled every child in the name of love.
Because of this, Andy was frequently locked in isolation for insufficient power or lack of cooperation.
And at these times, the only one who could be with him was Eleven, who could also communicate telepathically.
"I... I feel like something's wrong here."
"What?" Eleven's voice was full of confusion. She was only eight, just a little older than Andy, but her mind was simpler, making it harder for her to understand complex situations.
"I, I shouldn't be in the Lab. No, you shouldn't be in the Lab either. And Henry..."
Andy was incoherent, with too much information to express, but his language couldn't keep up with the speed of his thoughts.
"Who's Henry?"
Eleven's question left Andy stunned.
Then he remembered.
In the Lab, the name "Henry" was not yet known by anyone.
Andy didn't know exactly when, but likely before he entered the Lab, all records regarding Subject 001, Henry, had been sealed or destroyed, and his name was forbidden to be mentioned.
Henry had been given a new identity: Peter Ballard, an ordinary lab orderly responsible for the children's daily care and basic training.
The children were told that Peter was just Peter, and that he'd always been here.
Any memory of "Henry" was considered a mistake, a confusion, something that needed "correction."
But Andy remembered.
He remembered the scene when Henry first walked into the Rainbow Room. At that time, Andy was only five, having just arrived at the Lab, and was disliked because his powers were out of control; he spent all day crying in fear.
Henry had crouched in front of him, looking at him with those clear blue eyes, and said, "Don't be afraid, Twelve. I'll take care of you."
He remembered Henry teaching him how to use his abilities, how to control his emotions, how to get good results in training, and how to act "normal" in front of Dr. Brenner.
He remembered Henry secretly giving him candy and telling him stories at night, though those stories were really strange, and standing outside the door to keep Andy company when he was locked in isolation.
He remembered... too much.
But Eleven didn't know.
"It's Peter," Andy corrected himself in his mind, feeling a pang of heartache, "Peter Ballard. He's been lying to you; he only wants to get your power."
The moment those words slipped out, Andy immediately regretted it.
Not because he thought it was false—his experiences in the Upside Down made him deeply believe that Henry was a pretender, a user, a dangerous entity that would eventually become a monster.
But because he knew that for the eight-year-old Eleven, this sentence was too complex and too cruel.
Eleven fell silent.
Andy could feel her confusion, her hesitation, her... hint of fear?
"Peter?" Eleven finally responded, her voice even softer, "Twelve, did you see something again?"
"What?"
For a moment, Andy didn't understand what Eleven meant.
"Weren't you like Number Six before, able to see some... some things that haven't happened yet?"
Number Six.
That number was like a key, unlocking another heavy door deep in his memory.
Number Six's name was Kathy, but few people called her by her name. In the Lab, they only had numbers.
She was Number Six, Andy was Number Twelve, Eleven... was Number Eleven. Andy didn't know what Eleven's name was either.
Number Six's ability was precognition.
She'd once described some terrifying visions to Dr. Brenner. The doctor was very interested and put her through more "deep sensory deprivation" experiments, trying to trigger clearer precognitive abilities.
Andy remembered that experiment.
He was only six at the time, waiting in the observation room with Number Six.
Number Six was terrified, holding his hand, her palm drenched in cold sweat.
She whispered, "Twelve, I saw something horrible. A lot of people... dead. And... him."
"Who is he?" Andy asked.
Number Six shook her head, tears streaming down: "I can't see clearly. But I know he's coming. He's going to kill everyone."
Then the researchers came in and took Number Six away.
That was the last time Andy saw her alive.
A few hours later, the alarm signaling the end of the experiment rang.
It wasn't the usual, gentle notification tone, but a sharp, piercing emergency alarm.
Through the window of the Rainbow Room, Andy saw medical staff rushing down the corridor with a gurney. A person lay on it, covered with a white sheet, and deep red bloodstains were spreading beneath the cloth.
Papa said it was a shame he couldn't save her. Andy knew he was truly upset, but not because Number Six wasn't saved—it was because of the terrifying thing Number Six had seen.
That night, Henry came to Andy's room. Andy sat on the bed, hugging his knees, his eyes red and swollen.
"You've been crying," Henry said, his voice calm.
Andy nodded, not daring to look Henry in the eye.
"For Number Six?"
Another nod.
Henry was silent for a while, then said, "Dr. Brenner said Number Six saw something really terrifying during the experiment. So terrifying that her brain couldn't handle it, leading to a brain hemorrhage."
Andy looked up: "What did she see?"
Henry looked at him, a complex light in his blue eyes: "I don't know. But the doctor's really excited. He said it proves the potential of precognition, and it also proves... the risks."
"Risks?"
"The risk of abilities spiraling out of control," Henry said, his voice even lower. "So, Twelve, you have to learn control. You have to learn to obey. Otherwise..."
He didn't finish. But Andy understood.
Otherwise, he might have an "accident" just like Number Six.
Now, Eleven mentioned Number Six and asked Andy if he'd "seen something again."
Andy's brain worked rapidly.
In the Lab's records, Andy's abilities were primarily telepathy and telekinesis, with no precognition.
But Dr. Brenner had once suspected that Andy might have some precognitive tendencies.
Because he would sometimes see blurry images in his dreams and describe them upon waking, and it was later found that those images had some connection to actual events.
But those connections were really tenuous, really vague, and impossible to verify.
The doctor eventually concluded: it wasn't precognition, but a combination of Andy's keen observation skills and subconscious reasoning.
Now, Eleven believed Andy's abnormal behavior—attacking the guards, attacking Henry, trying to escape—was because he'd "seen something," just as Number Six had back then.
This gave Andy an opportunity to explain.
A chance to make Eleven understand what had happened.
"Yes, I saw something really terrifying," Andy said in his mind, trying to keep his thoughts steady, though he could still feel the trembling.
"Peter... he killed everyone else, and then he turned into a monster, he caught me, and then... and then..."
At this point, Andy couldn't go on.
Those images were too clear, too real: Henry's body merged with vines, his dark eyes, the sight of tentacles being inserted into Will's mouth, the cold liquid being injected, the change in Will's eyes...
"And then you woke up? Is that why you wanted to run?" Eleven asked, her voice carrying a hint of understanding, but mostly confusion.
"Yes, I... woke up."
Andy murmured to himself.
He also began to slowly doubt—was he really in a real world?
If this was real, if it was now three years ago, then could everything from the Upside Down really be a premonition?
Was he like Number Six, seeing the future in his dreams?
Those boys—he hadn't met them yet, but he'd seen them three years in the future in his "premonition"?
Those three years of hiding, his escape from the Lab, hiding in Hawkins, searching for Eleven—was that all a premonition of the future too?
And the relationship between Eleven and Henry, Henry eventually becoming a monster, Eleven opening the "Gate" and connecting to the Upside Down... was all of this something he'd foreseen?
If so, then... Will!
That brave Will, who'd lured the monster away to save him—if this was real, if it was now three years ago, then Will was definitely still safe!
He hadn't gone missing yet, hadn't been dragged into the Upside Down, and hadn't been caught by Henry!
Henry didn't know about Will. If this place was something Henry used to confuse him, he wouldn't have been able to make up Will's existence.
A surge of wild joy rose in Andy's heart.
If this was precognition, then he had a chance to change the future!
He could warn Eleven, keep her from helping Henry escape; he could find a way to stop Henry from becoming a monster.
He could protect Will, protect Hawkins, protect everyone!
This thought was so powerful, so tempting, that it almost made him forget he was still in isolation, forget the loneliness and the fear.
He had to confirm it.
He had to confirm Will's safety.
Andy closed his eyes. Surrounded by darkness and silence, it was the perfect environment for him to concentrate, trying to gather his psychic power to explore beyond the walls of the Lab.
He knew where Will's home was; in his "premonitions," he'd been there many times.
He knew that neighborhood, and he knew that house.
He visualized the location, pictured Will's image, and then released his psychic power—like invisible tentacles—passing through the walls of the isolation room, through the layers of protection in the Lab, through the streets of Hawkins, and extending toward the Byers house.
At first, it went smoothly.
His psychic power penetrated the isolation room; he "saw" the corridors of the Lab, saw the patrolling guards, and saw the blank faces of the other children in the Rainbow Room.
He continued outward, through the security doors, through the checkpoints, through the underground parking garage, and finally reached the surface.
Night.
A starry sky.
The building where the Lab was located looked like a giant, silent monster in the night, with sporadic lights peeking through the windows.
Surrounded by woods, in the distance was the silhouette of Hawkins, with dots of light flickering in the darkness.
Andy's psychic power continued to extend, like an invisible ray, advancing toward the town.
He "saw" streets, houses, yards, parked cars, and sleeping dogs.
Then, he approached the Byers house.
That familiar little house—the porch swing swayed slightly in the night breeze, the living room window showed the blue light of the TV, and Will's bedroom window was dark; he should be asleep.
Andy's psychic power neared that window, trying to penetrate the wall, enter the room, and sense Will's presence.
At that moment, resistance appeared.
His psychic power, in this eight-year-old body and at this "point in time," could only extend this far.
He could almost "touch" the lawn of the Byers house, almost feel the warm, lived-in atmosphere inside, but he just couldn't enter, couldn't confirm if Will was inside or if he was safe.
The distance was about... a hundred yards?
But for the current Andy, these hundred yards were an unbridgeable gap.
He tried to squeeze out the last bit of strength, trying to break through the limit.
His brain began to ache, as if being pierced by fine needles.
Warm liquid gushed from his nose; he had a nosebleed again.
But he didn't care.
He had to know.
He had to confirm Will's safety.
However, a limit was a limit.
No matter how hard he tried, no matter how desperate he was, his psychic power simply could not advance another inch.
It was as if an invisible wall stood between him and the Byers house, telling him: You're still too weak. You're still too small. You still can't do it.
Finally, Andy had to give up.
His psychic power receded like a low tide, quickly retreating through the town's streets, through the Lab's perimeter walls, through the underground floors, and finally back into the isolation room, back into his exhausted, bleeding, eight-year-old body.
He collapsed on the floor, panting heavily, sweat mixed with blood forming a sticky coating on his face.
He'd failed.
He couldn't confirm it.
But this failure itself seemed to indicate something.
If this place was real, if he really was eight years old now, then the lack of ability made sense.
That powerful strength he'd had in the Upside Down, which could drive off monsters and tear open dimensions, was the result of growth three years later.
If this was a hallucination, a dream created by Henry, then why would there be a setting like an "ability limit"?
Why not let him be all-powerful in the dream, easily confirm everything, and then be convinced?
Fragments of logic collided in his mind, but they couldn't piece together a complete answer.
"Twelve, are you still there?"
Eleven's voice sounded in his mind again, carrying a hint of worry.
Andy then realized that while he was trying to explore the outside world, he'd interrupted his communication with Eleven.
It might have only been a few seconds, but in this absolute darkness, a few seconds of silence was long enough.
"I'm here, Eleven," Andy responded, his voice weak from exhaustion, "I... I tried, but I couldn't do it."
"Do what?"
"Confirm some things." Andy didn't explain specifically; it was too complicated. "But it's okay. Eleven, listen to me, whether this is a dream or not, there's something you have to remember."
"What is it?" Eleven's voice was serious. Although she was small, she could feel the gravity in Andy's tone.
"Don't help Peter escape!" Andy said, every word sounding like it took all his strength. "And... don't trust Peter. No matter what he says, no matter what he promises, no matter how friendly or caring he seems—don't trust him."
Eleven fell silent.
Andy could feel her confusion and her hesitation.
Henry played the role of a "friendly big brother" in the Lab. He would encourage them during training and comfort them when they were sad.
To Eleven, Peter might be one of the few people besides Andy who showed her kindness.
Now, Andy was telling her not to trust Peter.
It was like telling a kid not to believe the sun would rise or that water was wet.
"Why?" Eleven finally asked, her voice really small.
"Because he'll hurt you," Andy said. Although he knew this explanation was too simple, he didn't have the time or ability to explain more. "He'll use you. He'll... change. Turn into a monster. Just like what I 'saw'."
There was another silence.
Then, Eleven said, "Okay, Andy."
She used his name. Not the number "Twelve," but the name he told her, the name he gave himself: "Andy."
This was their secret, their agreement in isolation: when it was just the two of them, use names instead of numbers.
This detail sent a warm current through Andy's heart.
In this fake Lab, in this dark punishment room, at least Eleven was real, at least the connection between them was real.
"Maybe... maybe by preventing the start of all this, things will turn out differently."
Andy continued, sounding more like he was trying to convince himself, "If you don't help him, he won't get your abilities, won't be able to open the Gate, won't be able to turn into a monster... maybe Will will be safe, maybe everyone will be safe."
"Who's Will?" Eleven asked.
Andy froze.
Then he realized that at this point in time, Eleven naturally didn't know Will.
Will was just an ordinary Hawkins kid, having nothing to do with the Lab, superpowers, or any of this.
"A... friend," Andy finally said, a hint of tenderness in his voice, "A really important friend. I hope he can be safe."
"I'll help you, Andy," Eleven said, her voice firm. "I'll remember what you said. Don't trust Peter. Don't help him."
"Thank you, Eleven." Andy felt his eyes heating up, and tears finally welled up again. "I'm glad you're here with me."
After the communication ended, Eleven's voice disappeared from his consciousness.
Andy knew she was still "there," somewhere, but she needed to rest.
Telepathic communication was also really draining for Eleven, especially over such a long distance and through shielding layers.
Now, Andy was alone again.
In absolute darkness.
Surrounded by soft walls that absorbed all sound.
Andy hugged his knees, curled up in the corner of the room.
This was his usual position—in isolation, in fear and loneliness, he would choose a corner, leaning his back against the intersection of two walls, so at least it didn't feel like he was completely exposed.
But physical security couldn't ease his psychological panic.
His brain couldn't stop thinking.
If this was real, then he did have a chance to change the future. He could warn Eleven, find a way to stop Henry, and protect Will and the others.
This gave him hope, gave him a goal.
But at the same time, it meant he had to experience everything in the Lab again: training, punishment, Dr. Brenner's control, the indifference of the other subjects, endless loneliness and fear.
And this time, he knew what would happen in the future, knew what Henry would become, and knew what Eleven would go through.
This premonition might not be a blessing, but a curse.
Like watching a train heading toward a cliff while you're tied to the tracks, unable to move.
If this was a hallucination, a dream created by Henry, then the purpose was obvious: to make him believe it was real, to make him accept the "premonition" explanation, to make him give up resistance, and eventually... join Henry.
That monster Henry had said: "You can be free to become whatever you want to be."
In this "dream," in an eight-year-old body, in the Lab environment, Andy was indeed "free."
Free from the horrors of the Upside Down, free from the helplessness of losing his abilities, free from the trauma of witnessing Will being changed.
But was this true freedom?
Or another, more refined imprisonment?
Andy didn't know.
The only thing he knew was that whether this was real or a hallucination, whether he was currently eight or twelve, he had to stay alert.
He couldn't trust Henry.
He had to protect Eleven.
He had to find Will, whether it was protecting his safety now or saving him from the Upside Down in that future.
Time continued to pass.
Maybe a few more hours had gone by.
Andy began to feel hunger and thirst.
He hadn't received his first meal yet, indicating he hadn't been locked up for very long.
But it felt like a century already.
Loneliness rushed in like a tide, drowning him.
He thought of Barbara in the Upside Down.
That brave girl who took care of him when he was weak, and after he opened the gate, she didn't escape alone but chose to go find Will.
She'd said: "I'll find him, I'll bring him back, and then we'll leave together, no matter what it takes."
Where was she now? In the Upside Down, still looking for Will? Or had she already... run into a monster?
He thought of Will. That kind, smart boy who liked Dungeons & Dragons, believed in the power of teamwork, and took the initiative to draw the monster away to save him.
Where was he now? If this was real, he should be sleeping safely at home.
If this was a hallucination, he might still be in the Upside Down, and after being changed by Henry, he'd become some kind of... non-human existence.
He thought of... Eleven.
That thin, silent, but incredibly strong-willed girl.
She was only eight now, her abilities were still unstable, she still relied on Dr. Brenner's "guidance," and she still believed in Henry's "friendliness."
She didn't know that in the future she would open a gate and release monsters, didn't know she would become a target of the Lab's hunt, didn't know she would meet Mike and the others, didn't know she would become the key to saving Hawkins.
She also didn't know everything Andy saw in his "premonition"—that Henry would hurt her and use her.
"I'll help you, Andy," she'd just said.
But Andy knew that in the end, he might not be able to help her.
In the future of his "premonition," he escaped the Lab to find Eleven, but it took three years before he found her.
This knowledge, this helplessness, this fear of knowing what might happen but being unable to change it... finally crushed him.
Andy buried his face in his knees, his shoulders starting to shake.
At first, it was silent crying, only a slight vibration of the body. Then, sobs echoed in the isolation room; although mostly absorbed by the sound-absorbing material, they were still clear in the absolute silence.
Tears gushed out, sliding down his cheeks and dripping onto his clothes, leaving dark marks.
He wanted to stop, wanted to be strong, wanted to maintain that "protector" resolve.
But he couldn't do it.
He was only twelve, or maybe even only eight.
He was locked in a padded box, having lost his abilities, his freedom, and everyone he knew.
He didn't know what was real and what was a hallucination. He didn't know what the future would be like, and he didn't know if he could change anything.
He was just a kid.
A scared, lonely, crying kid.
"Twelve..."
Eleven's voice sounded in his mind again, faint but full of concern.
She felt his emotions; even without actively connecting, even through the shielding layer, even though she was already exhausted, she still felt Andy's breakdown and tried to connect again.
Andy looked up; although it was dark all around, he felt as if he could see Eleven's face.
That thin, pale face, always carrying wariness and confusion.
"Eleven..." he responded in his consciousness, his voice broken from crying, "I... I'm scared..."
"I know," Eleven said, her voice really gentle, "I'm scared too. Every time I'm locked in here, I'm scared too."
It was true; Eleven had also been locked in isolation for various reasons.
Although her abilities were stronger and she was more "valued" by Dr. Brenner, the punishment was the same. Darkness, loneliness, deprivation.
"But I'll be with you," Eleven continued, her voice carrying a strange firmness, "Just like you're with me. We... are not alone."
These words, in this dark, lonely, and desperate environment, were like a glimmer of light, illuminating the darkest corners of Andy's heart.
Yes.
They were not alone.
Whether this was real or a hallucination, no matter what the future held, no matter what Henry was, what Dr. Brenner was, what the Lab was—
At least, at this moment, in this place, there were two children, separated by walls and darkness, connecting with each other in the only way they could.
Andy wiped away his tears and took a deep breath.
"Thank you, Eleven," he said, his voice a bit steadier, "I'm glad you're here with me."
"I'll always be here."
"I'll always be here too," Andy promised, although he knew this promise might be impossible to keep.
If this was a hallucination, if he was trapped in Henry's dream, if he could never leave this isolation room—
"No matter what happens, Eleven, remember: you're not alone, I'm here too. We are... family."
"Family." Eleven repeated the word, her voice carrying a hint of novelty, a hint of warmth.
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