𝐖𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐍. ˢᵗᵉᵛᵉ ʰᵃʳʳⁱⁿᵍᵗᵒⁿ ¹

022

022. 𝗮 𝗯𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘀' 𝗾𝘂𝗮𝗿𝗿𝗲𝗹.

     𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐃𝐈𝐃𝐍'𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆. Lori didn't want to follow them into the trees, trudge down the line and rush into the clearing. She didn't want to know where the screeching was coming from — because that meant seeing the creatures again. That meant facing everything again, and she didn't know if she could take it after all of that. That was a lot. The bus was a lot. Lori Philbin would be lying if she said that she wasn't waiting for death, in that bus. It sent her insides mushy at the thought of it, at the thought of all the violent shaking and all the squelching and all the thuds— she didn't want to witness it again.

But she found herself standing next to Steve Harrington, in the clearing of the forest as they's just rushed away from the train tracks.

It was now, when Lori thought of this. She could've backed out a while ago. She could've backed out the second that they showed up at her window, but she decided to sneak out with them. She could've backed out on the train tracks, one of the multiple times they reminded her she could. She could've backed out when they were in the bus, when Steve told her he'd cover for her. She could've backed out at any point. But there she was, still going along with them as if she were doing it blindly. Except, she wasn't walking into it blindly. Not at all.

So what was making her stay? Sure, being there for her cousin and, quote un-quote, protecting him was a good reason— but Steve was there for that. But Steve also had himself to protect. And Steve, Steve.

What happened on top of the bus was certainly not one of her reasons to stay, not at all. Quite frankly, it was on her list of reasons to go. But there was something in the pit of her stomach, an emotion so small that even she, herself, couldn't feel it yet— that made her feet keep moving along with them.

And there was also the prospect of, well, it being too late to back out now.

She constantly thought of how she would feel, if she happened to ditch them and go home. She wondered how it would feel to sit at home, biting her nails, wondering if they were even going to make it out alive. Wondering if they were dying. Wondering if Steve never pulled up in his driveway again. She didn't like to be curious. And that, that, was a gaping black hole of endless curiosity that Lori did not want to lose herself in. It would only end in anger and bad decisions.

And what did she have to lose, anyways? Yeah she had her mom, but that was about it on the outside world that held her back. Outside world being: normal life outside of this interdimensional shit. She was with her cousin, she was with Steve— who, she told herself strongly, was not of high value or importance to her as much as the rest— and if they all died, they would die together. She weighed the options while they'd been walking down the train tracks in the dark— she'd lose a lot more if she stayed at home then if she continued on.

So there she was, standing in a clumpy line between her cousin and Steve Harrington. Eyes on the prowl for the creatures.

Collectively, they approached the hill that descended into more forest— stopping where they could see a clear view of Hawkins covered in fog.

"Holy shit," Lori breathed out, her eyes awestruck at the amount of mist.

There was a tremendous amount of fog back in the junkyard, but this was next level. The rows of endless trees were coated with thick mist, grey smears that covered the ground. There were some spots where the ground was completely unrecognizable — obscured by the haze and the complete darkness. It sent a chill down her spine, all the way down each bone of her spine, at the sight of something so grand and yet so unbelievably eerie that seemed to stretch out for miles before them. And somewhere, somewhere in all those trees and hidden behind all that fog, there were the demogorgons. It was uncertain how many there really were, but if there was four, there was probably more to come.