𝐍𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑
❝𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 is coming. something 𝙝𝙪𝙣𝙜𝙧𝙮 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙙. a 𝙨𝙝𝙖𝙙𝙤𝙬 grows on the wall behind you, 𝙨𝙬𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙤𝙬𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙮𝙤𝙪 in 𝙙𝙖𝙧𝙠𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙨. it is almost here.❞
𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘵𝘰...
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STEVE HARRINGTON TURNEDhis maroon BMW into the Hawkins Middle and High School parking lot sharply, eliciting a groan from his sister who sat in the passenger's seat, eyes closed as she leaned her head against the window, longing for a few more minutes of sleep.
"Up and at 'em, come on, let's go," Steve mumbled, jerking the car into park and yanking the keys from the ignition before turning to glance at Cindy, who looked at him from her peripherals, her brown eyes squinted in exhaustion.
He rolled his eyes at her and looked out the window, resting his cheek on his hand.
She had expected this, she always did.
She had expected their conversation on the ride home the night before to sink down a never-ending drain as if it had never happened.
Vanished.
Gone, forever.
Yet, she divulged in the small amount of naivety she allowed herself. Intoxicated on the short-lived idealism of the night, she held just the smallest sliver of hope that he would remember it too. That maybe he wanted it to be real, in the same she craved for it to be real, that maybe he wanted to see her like he had that night, forever.
But she had learned that lesson of life too many times before: hope for the best, expect the worst.
And it was the worst that she received that morning.
What they might have had only hours ago was behind them now. They were different people when the sun came up that morning, and the people they were under the stars were strangers to them, unrecognized, foreign.
It was the only way they knew, the only they had ever known.
"Listen," He spoke in the midst of their silence, just as he had the night before.
Except in these circumstances, the sympathy that had once laced his words had shriveled up like rotten fruit, coating his lips and glazing his words with poison, burning her skin with every syllable he spoke.
"You know Mom and Dad won't be home for three days--"
"--Right, and you're," Cindy pressed her bony pointer finger into his forearm, "supposed to take care of me while they're gone."
