Ellie hit the gas as she merged onto the highway, she had a long drive from the New Jersey Coast to the Midwest. Her car was old and beat up, sputtering as she tried to go over 65mph. The sounds of MOrissey's singing blared through her open windows, she had cardboard boxes piled up in her backseat. They held all of her worldly possessions. Every cassette and vinyl record was safely wrapped.
There was no trace of her at her parent's house, she had her yearbooks and every photo of her, every baby photo even laid in a pile of ash in the living room's fireplaces. Her stuffie, a beaten up grey elephant laid on the kitchen counter cut up with the cotton strewn about the room.
A picture of her and Janet, her-
It was torn in half, she held the half of Janet tightly in her sweaty palm. She wanted to forget but nothing she did, no substance would pull her away from the wounds.
She looked at the highlighted route on the map, sighing. Ellie wanted to go to her apartment in the East Village, tell her friends where she was going.
Did they think the same fate had befallen her as Janis?
No contact was the rule if she wanted to live again. Her parents had taken all of her things from the shabby studio and put them in garbage bags.
Erik had asked to keep her battle jacket to remember her and her father had laughed, throwing it in a trash can on the way back to the hospital. She wondered what Lucille had asked for or James?
It took hours but eventually she saw it. It was pitch black out as her headlight illuminated it.
'Welcome to Hell'
Hawkin's had been written over in red spray paint. Charming. Just fucking peachy.
She pulled into a grocery store, and shifted into park.
It was what she expected but not what she was used to, there was almost no one in the store. A man in a trucker hat eyed her and she ignored it as she grabbed a shopping cart and wheeled into the store. If having suits in the city give her side eye never bothered her; why should the hicks?
She wore a pair of ripped black jeans and a knitted sweater with holes in the neckline, her trusty combat boots as always. She grabbed the essentials, stuff for sandwiches, milk, a few cans of spaghetti-o's, and if the liquor store was open she was heading there next.
Warmed up fake meatballs, booze, and home improvement plans were all she would be doing for the next month. She had interviewed over the phone so money was lined up they even allowed her time to settle into their little slice of heaven.
She had lived here briefly while her parents had finished their residences at a nearby hospital. They didn't have to sell her on the town, she knew what she was getting into.
A group of high schoolers in letterman jackets whispered behind her as she placed her items on the counter.
"We don't need more of that," a boy in a trucker hat, auburn curls peeking out said.
"God would want us to fight against them…" a blonde boy went on. She turned to them as she fished out her money. She raised an eyebrow and handed the money to the lady at the register.
"Hey," she began, grabbing the paper bag. "Are you boys reading The Crucible?"
They stared at her. One of them puffed up their jacket, making himself appear bigger. Her eyebrow went further up.
"My favorite part is when John Proctor screams that 'god is dead', has your teacher got to that part in the book yet? Explained it in simple words?" They looked at each other and then back at her. She could hear someone chuckling as she unlocked her car, her groceries on her hip as she fiddled with her keys.
There was someone leaning against the wall, smoking a clove cigarette. If that interaction was any indication of what Hawkins would be like she had half a mind to ask him for one.
"You saw the sign when you came in?" The stranger asked. He took a drag of his cigarette. "You can still leave- don't look like you've unpacked." He glanced at her backseat. That was enough of this creepy, may-he-rise again bullshit. She flung the grocery bag in the passenger's seat.
"I think you need to mind your own fucking business, dude." She got into the driver's seat and floored it out of the parking lot.
Her hands didn't stop shaking until she had put a few miles between her car and the store. She wanted to be able to shut up and not fight back; it was half the reason she was here in the first place.
No one was going to disrespect her. And if they were, they were gonna get bit.
The roads were dark as she drove on the country road. She didn't play any music, wanting to quickly and quietly get to her new home. No loud noise should keep her under the radar. She got to her destination and ran into the house locking the door the moment she could.
She didn't want to run anymore but she needed to rest.
When she awoke the next morning she made a list of all the work she would need to do.
The car didn't start, she called a tow truck and was later told that someone had filled her gas tank with sugar.
Son of a bitch, she thought to herself.