Mother Cut

7: Jen, Everything Seen

7, Jen, Everything Seen

Hawkins, October 1983

This is fucked. He knows. But he's never done anything right since he started high school.

   Steve remembers the first time he saw her at the trailer park. He knew he shouldn't have been back at Lowen's place, especially when his mind was drowned in Nancy Elizabeth Wheeler—but Violet was acting out of character. Like she suddenly hated his room and kept throwing her shoes at his legs.

(She wanted to go apparently.)

   It was annoying and frustrating, because she couldn't talk and voice what she was trying to say. Every time Steve tried to stop it, it didn't work, and he nearly yelled at her. He's never yelled at a child before, he's never had reason too—kids weren't involved in his life. Until now.

  His lips were parted when he noticed her watery eyes, and she cried silently—she's never done that before either. Steve officially declared Violet hated his room and house. He couldn't blame her. So, he took her and her shoes to the only other place he knew for this baby.

   And there she was.

   All blonde hair down to the middle of her back, that definitely looked like it could be lighter in the sun's highest point. Her stark maroon eyes. Dainty hands and fidgeting movements. A ring on her left pointer finger, it was made with small silver hearts. She was feeding a stray dog what seem to be meat. He remembers what she was wearing, a too big sweatshirt, and bare legs. He didn't know how she was out there in the October cold like that with nothing on her legs.

   He remembers the tattoo of a butterfly on her left calf. It wasn't too big or too small, and it didn't look out of place at all either. He starts to wonder why she has it. There's also a scar near her chin, it's not too big but not too small—he wonders how she got it. If it was a freak accident or something with hefty purpose.