❝ in the seventeen years i've been on this earth, i've never met anyone as f#@!%^g stupid as you. ❞
in which two kids on the opposite sides of the social spectrum find solace in one another during a strange period of time.
ESTELLA COLLINS STAND ALON...
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CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR ; MURRAY IS NOT A CRACKHEAD also known as; ( the flayed; part four)
★☆
STELLA HAD MANAGED TO GET A LITTLE BIT OF SLEEP IN ON THE CAR RIDE TO HOPPER'S FRIEND'S PLACE. It appeared to be an achievement, seeing as the leather seats had grown increasingly uncomfortable as the hours passed. Alexei seemed to have the same thing in mind, as he had discarded his empty cup on the floor of the Cadillac in favour for leaning up against the door.
It wasn't the nicest nap she'd had, and when she was shaken awake by Hopper, she wanted to fall back asleep once more, but she knew that the police chief would never let her do so. Not until they were safe in the house of his strange friend, one that he'd hardly spoken of over the course of the trip. "We're here, kid, get up."
Stella groaned, her eyes stinging a little as they were forced open by the sudden gesture. She curled up a little bit and hid her face in the seat, not wanting to comply. Hopper huffed and grabbed her by the arm, opening the door and tugging her out, followed by Alexei. They were still connected by the handcuffs, and her wrist was beginning to hurt. She hadn't looked at it in a while, but she was pretty sure it may have been bleeding at some point.
"I thought you said this guy was a journalist," Joyce said once they all began walking towards the strange, run down building. Once Stella had gained the energy to look at where she was, she wasn't entirely sure what she was about to enter. A warehouse? A store? It wasn't much, she had to admit.
"Yeah, he, uh, he was," Hopper mumbled, holding Alexei by the back of the neck. The Russian didn't seem to be overly bothered by the whole ordeal, his eyes slightly curious, but also concerned with the exhausted teen at his side.
"Was?"
The chief pressed a button beside what Stella assumed was a front door (the bright orange words 'keep out' making her a little anxious), and within seconds a voice erupted from the speaker. "Look at the camera."
Hopper stared at the little machine, as if there were a camera inside.
"The camera, above you to the right."
All four looked up and to the right as requested, and Joyce waved nervously. Stella forced a tired smile.
"Identify yourself."
"Jim Hopper, Joyce Byers, Stella Collins and Smirnoff," Hopper pointed to each of them, though Stella rolled her eyes at the last name on the list.
