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Madeline Creel was a lot of things but a 'Freak' was not one of them. Yet she found herself hiding away in the Wheeler household after the riot that destroyed her house, once word got out that her uncle was the murderer that was thrown into the loony bin.
Victor Creel: a conniving, murderous satanist who killed his family and blamed it on the devil. She resented her uncle for that, she truly did. To have to learn from such a young age that she came from a family where the true name haunted them like a ghost. Where a once sane man's head was racked with shame to the point where he went on a homicidal spree.
Though she resided under the name "Madeline Carter", the news reporters were such deceitful people that went through her official records to discover her real name. To stir the pot, to rile the town up.
Madeline Creel had graduated Hawkins High, along side Nancy Wheeler and Steve Harrington, with flying colours. All A's and a 4.0 GPA yet, despite it all, every single job interview she attended she was turned away. Why you ask? Just because of her affiliation to Victor Creel.
It all came back to him. Why she no longer had a house to stay in. Why she couldn't get a job. And why she struggled to sleep at night.
Vivid nightmares calloused her mind every night. The grotesque contorted bodies of animals raided her mind, crimson fluid drying in their matted fur. Where they came from? She didn't know, yet she knew all this came from her uncle.
——-
Eliciting a small gasp, Madeline awoke, her forehead glazed with a crisp sweat. Heart pounding and eyes wide. She had no idea why she was still shocked, this has been going on for as long as she could remember.
Her doe-like eyes darted across the Wheeler basement, patting the arm of the sofa as she rose from her reclined position. Checking the time on her sage watch, she smiled as she saw the time. 6:55, she could work with that.
Nodding her head slowly, she arose. Sighing- she headed up the groaning, basement stairs. The kitchen was tranquil and empty. Only the humming of the over head light reverberated against the homely walls.
Grabbing two slices of bread, she placed them both in the toaster before pushing down the pin. Whistling a small tune, she took long strides around the kitchen island counting her steps as she went.
1.... 2..... 3.... 4....-
BANG
"Jesus Christ on a bike." Madeline jumped. Rushing over to the toaster, the smell of burnt toast invaded her nostrils.
