Stranger Love

Chapter Fourteen: Five Fifteen Larrabee

The curtains were on fire.

Anya watched as the unfamiliar, heavy grey material succumbed to the flames. They licked and swirled through the air, each singing a lullaby into her mind.

She liked them. They were whispering sweet things, making her want to hear more. The smoke did not affect her lungs, nor did the heat burn her skin. She reached out, placing her hand within the blue and orange, the inferno feeling cool beneath her touch.

"Anya!" A voice cried, it was the distant screams of her mother. "Anya!"

Anya could not turn around, nor could she will herself to. The fire was too tempting and she revelled in it…

"Anya! Sweetie, it's ok…"

Her eyes flickered open. Peering down at her with a look of deep concern on her face was her Mom, dark hair unravelled and messy around her cheeks. "Mom?"

"How are you feeling?" Patricia placed a cold flannel over Anya's forehead.

"What do you mean?" Anya frowned, sitting up despite her Mom's protest. "What's going on?"

"You came home from the party last night with a terrible fever. I put you into bed, you've been tossing and turning all night. I thought I might have to call an ambulance!" Patricia handed her a glass of water. "Drink that and lie back down, you are not going to school today,"

"But I feel fine, honestly! I was just having bad dreams," Anya gulped down the liquid in record time, not realising until then how thirsty she was. "They were strange…did we ever have dark grey curtains?"

Her Mom paused, not looking her in the eye as she fumbled with some items on Anya's bedside table. "Er…not that I remember,"

"Well…I was dreaming about grey curtains and they were on fire. It was so real Mom, like I was really there," Anya pushed her hair back from her face. "And I was touching the fire, like with my bare hands! It was completely insane,"

"You had a really high temperature, it was probably because of that," Patricia handed her some paracetamol. "Here, take this,"

"It's a bit weird, me having dreams about fire and my temperature is sky high?"

"I suppose," Patricia mumbled, the older woman grabbing a few items of clothing strewn on the floor. "Now take those and get some rest. I will call school and let them know you can't come in,"

"Mom, they know Tina had a party last night. They'll think it's because I'm hungover," Anya protested, in no mood to lie in bed all day and not feeling ill in the slightest. She hadn't even known her temperature was so high!

"I don't care! You need to rest!"

"But-"

"No buts Anya! You're not going to school and that's final." Her Mom gave her one of those 'do not mess with me right now' looks, putting the neatly folded clothes into Anya's cupboard before leaving her bedroom with the snap of the door.

Anya huffed, folding her arms across her chest and glaring at the spot her Mom had just been standing in. What was her Mom's problem? Why was she so determined to keep Anya out of school when she felt perfectly fine? It was ridiculous.

Suddenly she could hear the distinct voice of Billy, yelling about something. Anya flung her legs over the mattress and hurried to the window, hiding behind the thin drapes to get a look. Billy was stalking over to his car angrily, Maxine shuffling along beside him with her head down.

"- why do you even go to school, huh? It's a waste of time for a delinquent like you!" Billy's father roared from front porch, his voice so loud Anya reckoned the whole street was going to hear. "I give you two years before you're in jail!"

"That's enough Neil," Susan's tiny squeak was just about audible, the woman looked decidedly embarrassed and completely mortified.

"No, it's not enough! He lives under my roof, eats my food, racks up the energy bills and does fuck all-in return!" The man roared, his face red.

"I'm going to school!" Billy responded, quite mildly for him.

"How about I sell that ridiculous car of yours?!"

"Then how would you be able to get rid of me!"

Neil was about to walk over to his son, most likely with the intent to put fists on him. Susan, however, stood before her husband, placing a small hand on his chest. "Billy, Max, go to school now. We will see you at dinner," She looked up at Neil. "Let's go inside now, hey?"

And that was that. The neighbourhood became at peace again, only interrupted by the roar of Billy's engine. Anya was impressed by how Susan handled the situation – she'd probably done it many times before. The woman clearly loved her husband, though what she saw in him Anya had absolutely no idea.

She headed back towards her bed, deciding maybe a little more shut eye wouldn't be so bad, when a sudden pain radiated through her brain.

Anya gasped, her hands flying to her temples. Her bare feet were wet – she looked down and saw the same, still rippling water as before. What had El called it again? A dream circle? She couldn't remember, the pain in her head making it difficult to think straight.

"I'm sorry it hurts, it always hurts the first few times,"

The voice made Anya start. She whirled around to face El, the curly haired girl as stoic and poised as ever. "What is this?"

"We are connected – our minds are one. We can communicate like this," El paced around Anya, pointing at something in the distance. Anya squinted into the darkness. There was an old house stood within the inky black water, too far for her to see much detail, close enough for her to see it was about ready to fall apart.

"It's time to go," The young girl looked to Anya once more.

"OK." Anya nodded, determination flooding through her very bones. "Let's do this,"

"I will be waiting. You will know where to find me,"

Anya felt the pain in her head fizzle to a dull ache as she felt herself thrust back into her bedroom. The world span on its axis for a moment, her hand falling to her bed for support. Within minutes, she was flinging clothes into her backpack.

She didn't know how long she or El were going to be, or where they would end up. Reaching underneath her bed, Anya pulled out the envelope of money she'd stashed under the bed for just this occasion. Stuffing it into the pocket of her pack, she panicked when her mother's footsteps began to ascend the stairs.

Sliding the pack under her covers, Anya jumped in and curled up, deciding the best course of action was to pretend to be asleep. Patricia came into her room quietly, and Anya felt the bed dip with her weight as she sat next to her daughter.

She couldn't see her Mom's face, but somehow knew that the older woman was crying. Patricia gently stroked Anya's hair. The gesture had once soothed Anya, but now, now it felt strange.

"I'm so sorry…so, so sorry…" Her Mom muttered through gulps. "All of this is my fault…"

What on earth did Patricia mean by that?

Anya struggled with the urge to question her mother – her curiosity almost getting the better of her. Patricia stayed for a while longer, before she leant down and kissed Anya on the cheek. After what seemed like an age, she finally left, and Anya jumped up almost immediately.

'Mom,

Please don't worry. I have to go away for a while, and I don't know how long I will be. There is just something that I need to do – I need answers, and I am not going to get them in Hawkins.

I will come back. I promise.

I love you,

Anya.'

She wrote the note hurriedly, folding the manila paper into two and setting it atop her bed covers. Now dressed in a pair of light denim jeans and a baggy jumper, she slipped on her white sneakers and pushed open her bedroom window.

It wasn't exactly the first time Anya had shimmied down across the roof of the front porch to escape the house. At age 15, she'd been besotted by an older boy from school and spent many a night in his car doing things no fifteen-year-old should have been doing.

Now though, her cause was different. This was about answers, about her Dad. She had to know why he'd been murdered, and El was the only one who seemed to be able to tell her. She had a connection to the girl that neither one could explain – a shared bond from some past traumatic experience.

Anya's feet hit the ground and she full pelt sprinted towards her truck, her mother's form dotting about the front room. She took one last look at her Mom, too busy cleaning to have noticed, before she jumped up in the vehicle and roared the engine to life.

El was waiting for her at the crossroads, where Hawkins ended. The young girl wasted no time, throwing open the door and getting inside quickly.

"Hi,"

"Hey," Anya answered. "You know the way?"

"Yes. So do you,"

This was in fact, true. Anya knew exactly where they were going, as if a map had been drawn into her mind. "Let's go find your Mama,"

…