Bending or Breaking

Cracking

Joyce was still crying. She wished she could stop the tears that ran down her cheeks so easily. She would be dehydrated soon, her tongue was almost dry. If only she could stop the hurt. She sighed heavily.

Joyce sat with her arms around her knees, her cigarette hanging loosely in her right hand, burning ash falling to the bed. Her legs were crossed, as if she left a space open for the terror to be, rather than putting her legs together.

Nighttime was always the worst. It was when all of her emotions and memories threatened to swallow her whole, dragging her by the ankles into an abyss of terror. Joyce wanted to sleep, but then everything would come back. She'd have nightmares. But when she was awake, the silence was so complete that all the thoughts in her head screamed and came rushing back like kids on a water slide in the warm summer sun. But they were sliding away from beings that threatened to crush their fragile growing bodies, rather than sliding into sparkling, cold blue water and splashing their friends. They were screaming about the creatures rather than screaming with joy. The sun burned their skin, rather than warmed them as they splashed and played. Everything was wrong at this pool.

Joyce finished her cigarette and sighed. She debated on lighting another. One would be enough for now. She really didn't need lung or throat cancer, but Hopper was dead, so maybe she could die too, then again, cancer sometimes took years.

She stubbed out the remains of the cigarette in the little plastic ashtray and sighed softly. Joyce stared off into space for a bit. It was hard to concentrate on anything lately other than the fact that Hopper was dead and she had practically murdered him.

Joyce eventually nodded off sitting up. Her head heavily plunked onto her left knee, her arms going slack and her knees resting on the bed. She was sitting with her legs crossed, her head on her left knee. This was how she slept. It wasn't a comfortable position, but it was involuntary. She had practically passed out.

Joyce woke up violently when there was gentle knocking on her door. She hadn't really been sleeping in the first place, so a pin dropping in the next room may have woke her. She glanced over at her digital radio clock. 3:27 a.m. . She was going to strangle whoever was behind the door.

Joyce slowly swung her legs over the side of the bed. She'd rather not move at all, but obviously whatever this matter was was important if it was 3:30 in the morning. Joyce said weakly as she shuffled over to the door, "Coming.." hopefully the kid, she assumed, Jonathan knew better, heard.

Joyce opened the door to Jane, who wrapped her arms directly around Joyce's torso the minute they made eye contact. Joyce was surprised, she looked at the teen, wondering why the hell Jane was hugging her. She eventually wrapped her arms timidly back around Jane. Joyce would never cry in front of her, but maybe Jane needed to cry.

Jane waddled out of the doorway, still holding onto Joyce. She carefully closed the door behind them, her socked foot gently pushing it closed. Joyce was very confused as to what was happening, but she trusted her adopted daughter. She waddled along with her, carefully avoiding Jane's feet.

Jane gently placed Joyce on the bed, only letting go to sit down herself. They sat with their legs crossed, facing the end of Joyce, and what was Hopper's, bed.

Jane muttered softly "I heard your crying... I was practicing with my powers.. they only work a little. Will is still asleep. I... Mom. I know that you're sad about Dad... And you should know it's okay to cry." Jane's words didn't come out so easily, but she meant them. Joyce was honestly surprised. "Th-Thank you, Jane." She said weakly. Her voice faltered and cracked. She still wasn't stable.

Jane smiled softly and wrapped her arms back around Joyce.

"I'm here, Mama. I'm here."

This is what cracked Joyce. She couldn't help it. Jane, with all of the things that she had suffered with in her life, was here for Joyce. Jane was the one who lost a father, after finally having a real parent. But she was here to comfort Joyce.

Joyce tried to hold back her sobs, a hand covering her mouth, tears beginning to spill from her eyes, blurring her vision fiercely. Her shoulders and chest shook violently as she stifled the loud wails threatening to escape her mouth.

Jane gently wrapped her arms around Joyce. "It's okay to cry."