Risky Business ｡ Stranger Things

33 : The Mean Season

Prue and Billy had stayed in the field until the mosquitoes came out, until the earth was surrounded with dusk, the bridge to the night. She had felt cold for the rest of the night without Billy's arms around her, embracing her, even though they were in the dead of summer. Her dreams still weren't peaceful that night but at least she could now touch the scars on her torso without flinching. She could feel Billy's tender fingerprints resting on those hideous silver slashes, telling her that he knew of scars and that these were the most angelic ones he had ever seen.

Hellbent on finding out more about the Upside Down, Prue decided to go straight to the source: Will Byers and Nancy Wheeler. She would have gone to Eleven, but the girl was absorbed in a bubble of puppy love with Mike and talking to the powerful girl about the Upside Down might alarm Hopper, and Prue didn't need the Chief knowing she was researching the hellish parallel dimension with dangerous curiosity.

Caroline was in the kitchen when Prue strolled in, heading straight to the fridge to scull from the milk carton. "Good morning, dear," Caroline said, sipping on her morning tea over the kitchen skin. She was already wearing her theatre nurse scrubs and had her hair pulled up into a simple, tidy bun.

"Morning," Prue replied, irritation hovering low in her words. She had hoped to leave the house before bumping into her mother or father.

"How did you sleep last night?" Caroline asked, concern blooming, not like a flower but a weed, a strangling vine.

She guzzled on the milk for a moment before answering in a sardonic nature. "Well, I didn't wake myself up by screaming so I guess last night could have gone worse."

Prue heard her mother's shaky sigh, a troubled exhale of air leaving her lungs. "I wanted to talk to you about something," she began.

"Like what? You've already given me the talk before," Prue quipped out, finally turning to face her mother, the milk carton tucked back into the fridge.

Caroline sighed at her daughter's sarcasm but continued on determinately. "I don't know how to help you, Prue. I barely understand anything your father says about that topsy turvy world," she explained, the utter helplessness and concern hung heavy in her voice. Caroline felt like she was failing as a mother because she couldn't stop the nightmares that plagued her daughter or heal the scars that spoke of her ordeal. Scars that would never fade from her daughter's skin.

"The Upside Down," Prue corrected before her mother sent her a warning glare that made Prue close her mouth.

"And I can't even begin to imagine what type of horrors you've had to endure because of your father's work, but I believe talking about it might help. I've collected some pamphlets on therapy from the hospital―"

"I don't need to see a therapist," she rejected, shaking her head. Disbelief was turning her words into weapons, all aimed at her mother who was only trying to do the best thing for her only daughter.

"Well, I think you do," Caroline stated, her voice like steel, strong and unwavering.

The teenager crossed her arms over her chest, staring hard at her mother. "Does Dad think so too?" Prue knew her father believed that time and normalcy was the most logical cure of Post-traumatic stress disorder but she wanted to see her mother fumble, break.

Her voice dropped but Caroline kept her chin steady, defiant. "No. Your father and I are not one the same page when it comes to treating trauma."

Prue's lips straightened into a line as she heaved her shoulders dramatically. "And apparently neither are we," she told her mother in an icy tone before turning on her heels.