A/N: I figured it was time to write this up since it's been in my head since 2016 lmao

I hope you enjoy!

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. As the author I do not always agree with the actions the characters take. There will be mentions of sensitive topics, read at your own risk.


Darkness.

Lights flashing.

Rainbow.

Screaming.

Papa.

Peter's – 001's – dead eyes. His false smile. His hands around her neck when she wouldn't remove the Soteria. Hot breath in her ears. Nails ripping into her skin when she flung him off her. Warm wetness trickling, staining her gown in their wake.

The sickening crack of his body hitting the wall.

No one would believe her. Papa wouldn't believe her. Not now anyway. Peter – 001 – would tell them she was trying to escape, that he was trying to stop her. And he would win. Again. Then he would really kill her. And Papa wouldn't care. He had 011. He had 002 and all the others.

She didn't matter.

And since she didn't matter, she would leave. 008 left and so could she.

So, she did.


October 1, 1983

Kali had thought her plan was madness. Refused to endorse it, refused to help. Even went so far as to call her a "fucking idiot".

But Madison Hope Johnson, Mads to those closest to her, didn't think she was an idiot. Sure, the original plan of destroying Dr. Brenner's lab with Kali and her crew was dangerous at best, doing it alone was an assured suicide mission. That didn't mean she was an idiot.

Mads was just tired of running, hiding, and living.

A suicide mission was fitting.

That was what led her to this "reasonably priced" motel on the outskirts of Hawkins' city limits in the middle of the night. At least it had a kitchenette and was clean.

And the guy at the front desk hadn't asked too many questions when a teenage girl had checked in on her own.

Her cover story, if anyone asked, was that she was emancipated from her parents and looking to start over. No one would look too close at a grungy teen. They never did when she ran with Kali and her crew, and they wouldn't now.

She had mastered the art of hiding in plain sight. Of acting like she belonged, like a background character in a movie. Interesting enough for a passing glance with her perfectly disheveled shag hair – which she spent an obscene amount of time styling for it to look effortless – and eclectic nature. Both were a straight middle finger to the shaved head and hospital gown that had been forced on her for most of her life.

Mads learned very quickly that if you act like you need to hide, people will look for you. And those people will be the exact ones you don't want to find you. So, off to the side is where she preferred to be.

A well-established life in this town would allow her an "in" per se, to the lab. Brenner's people wouldn't expect her to come back, much less as a semi well-rounded person with her head screwed on mostly straight. She just had to keep her abilities in check, not use them too much or too often.

Especially not in front of too many witnesses.

That was going to be the difficult part. With Kali, she was encouraged to use them as often as she pleased, and she did. So much so, that she did it without noticing sometimes.

The other difficult part was that she hated being touched. No one, not even Kali could lay a finger on her. Putting herself in a high-school or retail setting was going to be hard. Kali had someone look into it for them and found that it was called Haphephobia - the fear of being touched.

The decrepit radiator groaned as it kicked on, a hot, musty smell permeating the room. Mads nose crinkled at the scent, but curled up in the middle of the tacky bedspread, allowing herself to think. She needed to go to the local bargain and thrift stores to pick up necessities and clothes. With only her motorcycle for transportation, she could only bring with her what she could carry in a backpack and saddlebags, which wasn't much at all.

In her rush, fearing that Kali wouldn't allow her to leave, she had only grabbed a few fistfuls of clothes, underwear, and her stolen jewelry along with her hairbrush, toothbrush, toothpaste, and deodorant which she was on the last dregs of.

Thankfully, the motel had soap. After living in a warehouse for who knows how long and going extended periods of time in-between showers – as well as driving the three plus hours from Chicago in the rain – she was feeling pretty ripe. And she couldn't pass herself off as self-reliant if she couldn't even appear as though she took care of herself.

Dragging her weary body from the lumpy, but comfortable bed, Mads trudged into the bathroom to shower. The creaking of the pipes and leaky faucet would have annoyed many other people, but not Mads. It made the place all the more comforting. Like some of the old hideouts she'd stayed in.

It was almost nice. She almost felt like she didn't have to scrub at the fading 009 tattoo on the inside of her wrist until it was raw for once. Almost.

The hot water seemed to drown out all her troubles, at least until her stomach began to growl and she realized she hadn't eaten since before she left. Everything in a town like this would be closed, save the very few bars, and they were unlikely to let her in at this hour.

So, starving for dinner it was.

The water ran cold faster than she anticipated, and she would have minded less had she had a full belly. As it was, she pulled herself from the shower and toweled off, dressing herself in a giant t-shirt Funshine had "outgrown". Then she pulled a wristband back into place over the old tattoo.

After triple-checking the locks on the door and that there were no gaps in the curtains on the large window which faced the parking lot, Mads allowed herself to fall into bed, hair still dripping wet.

Sleep soon claimed her, but not long after, bright blue eyes met her beneath her eyelids. Mocking her. Taunting her. Pulling the breath from her lungs and chilling her to the bone like they did every night.


Three hard knocks awoke Mads from her troubled sleep. From the light streaming through the tops of the curtains, she could tell that it was early morning. A quick glance to the clock on the bedside table confirmed that.

When she made no move to answer the door, the person on the other side began to pound on it again. Not violently, just forceful enough that a sleeping person should be able to hear it. However, Mads again made no move.

Instead, she closed her eyes again and reached out, past the door to see who was on the other side. The one knocking was a middle-aged man sporting slicked back salt and pepper hair, and a woman around the same age with graying brown hair was next to him, holding a wad of cash. They may have seemed disarming to anyone else, but Mads knew never to trust anyone, and she wasn't about to start now. Not in Hawkins.

Reaching further, she dug her way into their heads. Their minds were soft, malleable. Easy picking for a girl with her talents. Through a myriad of thoughts and memories she dug before she was satisfied that these two were not here to harm her. In fact, they were the owners of the motel and needed to speak with her urgently.

Bones creaking and muscles groaning, she rose from the bed and padded over to the door, wiping sleep from her eyes.

"Hello dear," the woman began as Mads opened the door, before gasping in shock.

Rubbing her eyes blearily at the couple, mumbled a good morning, which they echoed, still stunned.

"Something the matter?" Mads asked, taking in their expressions.

The woman was very pretty, the lines at the corners of her deep blue eyes made her seem elegant rather than showing her age. Her graying brown hair was pulled back into a bun at the nape of her neck and she looked as though she was dressed for gardening.

The man looked quite stern, but not unkind. His face was more lined than his partner's, but his dark eyes spoke of a youthfulness many failed to keep hold of as they aged.

"Your nose," the woman said hesitantly. "It's… bleeding quite badly."

"Oh, shit…" Wiping her nose on the back of her hand, Mads saw that it came away, bright red with blood. She must have overdone it a bit with the mind reading. "Sorry, it does that a lot. I've got allergies."

A common excuse, one that was easily believed and easily to fake. The thin membrane in the nostrils easily cracked and bleed when dried out, or were swollen due to allergies. No one would jump to the conclusion that she'd just overworked her brain, unless they were privy to her abilities.

The man, who'd hardly said a word since she had opened the door, pulled a pristine handkerchief from his front pocket and held it out to Mads, who eyed it suspiciously.

With trepidation, she reached out and took it from him, careful not to touch his fingers. Then she wiped the back of her hand and held the square of fabric to her nose.

"Thanks…" she mumbled, waiting for them to get to the point.

Yeah, she could have read their minds again, but triggering another nosebleed wasn't on her to-do list today.

"We're the Wilson's dear," the woman, Mrs. Wilson, started. "We own the place."

"Am I in trouble or something?" Mads asked, pinching the kerchief over her nose to staunch the bleeding.

"No," Mr. Wilson finally spoke, smiling gently. "Our employee, Jake, said we had a lone teenager check in last night. That would go against our normal policy, but he said you had extenuating circumstances."

They obviously believed the story she spun "Jake" at the desk last night and the forged papers she'd shown him. Her emancipation, urgent relocation, and need of shelter. People were too trusting.

"I've got the papers if you wanna see them." Mads turned from the door to find her backpack with her waterproof binder full of documents. She was used to this routine.

"That's not necessary," Mr. Wilson said, stopping her. Turning back towards them, Mads' brow furrowed quizzically. What did they want then? The couple looked normal and sweet enough. She had been searching for malicious intent or anything to do with the Lab, so she hadn't been paying attention to their objective. A rookie mistake. Mick would have reamed her ass for that one.

"Then what's the problem?" Her tone was harsher than she intended, but she was quickly losing patience.

"We don't feel right taking your money due to your circumstances…" Mrs. Wilson said, holding out the large wad of cash.

Last night, Mads had paid several months' rent in advance. All with stolen money, of course, but they didn't need to know that. The people she'd taken it from deserved it, and everything else she did to them.

"Well, I don't feel right staying here without paying," she insisted, tone still harsh. "It's part of the deal, you know, I'm supposed to prove I'm self-sufficient."

"We understand that," Mr. Wilson interjected for his wife, whose pitying expression looked close to tears. "But we cannot allow you to pay, and struggle, when we have more than enough. It's just not our way. We want you to stay here as long as you need."

Well, that was unexpected. In all her time playing these types of characters, Mads had rarely encountered truly kind souls. It was a cruel world out there, and she had learned to be crueler.

Blinking rapidly, she struggled for a response. "I don't, I mean… what…"

A thick swallow around an annoyingly large lump in her throat that had suddenly appeared – which had nothing to do with the kind treatment from the couple in front of her – but after a few swallows, she could finally speak.

"Thank you."

"But," she continued. "Is… is there something we can work out, I mean? I can't stay here for free. For all you know, I could be a freeloader."

"We thought of something already, if you would agree to it," hedged, holding out the money.

Again, Mads reached out to take the cash, careful not to touch the older woman. "What did you have in mind?"

"Well," Mrs. Wilson began, exchanging a look with her husband, eyes shining with unshed tears. "If you want, we would be willing to let you stay here rent free if you would clean the unoccupied rooms, and keep this one clean too? We understand that emancipation can be allowed due to abuse, so we don't want you to interact with our customers so you can be comfortable. We have a girl who will do the other rooms. And as long as it's done once a week, we don't care when you do it."

That was a pretty sweet deal. She would get to live here rent free, and not have to interact with the other patrons? The only problem was, she would need an actual job to keep up appearances. Part time because she would also have to attend school for the same reasons, but since she didn't have to pay rent now… Things were beginning to look up.

"D'you know where I'd be able to get a job? So I can buy food n' stuff?" Mads asked, pulling the handkerchief from her nose. The bleeding had finally staunched, leaving a thick, sticky feeling behind.

"The Hawk movie theater and Melvald's - the general store - are hiring. We can put in a good word for you at either spot if you'd like," Mr. Wilson offered with another small smile.

Huh. Things really were looking up. Mads did feel a twinge of guilt for deceiving this nice couple, but if everything went according to plan, she wouldn't be alive much longer anyway. Maybe a few months at most.

"That would be great… Thank you. I'll stop by both on my way back from the bank. I need some stuff anyway," she said, glancing over her shoulder at the fridge. "Actually, could you give me directions to the bank?"

Mrs. Wilson happily agreed and bustled off to grab a map from the front desk and a pen, leaving Mads alone with Mr. Wilson.

"Here," she said awkwardly, holding out the bloodied handkerchief to him.

He waved her off. "Keep it."

Crumpling up the square in her hand, Mads lowered her arm and began to fidget with the money in her other hand. An uneasy silence settled between them. She wasn't one for talking much and she could tell this guy wasn't either. He was also trying not to look to closely at her, which was when she realized she was dressed only in her oversized sleeping shirt with the scarring on her neck in full view. That made it all the more relieving when his wife returned with the map and a notepad page with directions written on it.

Mrs. Wilson pressed both into Mads' hands, thankfully not touching them, and took her place back at her husband's side. After thanking them softly, Mads made to close the door but Mr. Wilson cleared his throat, stopping her.

"Yeah?" She asked, praying they hadn't changed their minds.

"We, ah… We had a daughter," he began tenuously. "Died in a car crash a few years ago. Still got all her clothes, they might be a bit big on you, but you can have them if you want."

"She had a bit of an… alternative style, as she called it," Mrs. Wilson continued for her husband. "She wouldn't want all her things collecting dust like they have been, and we'd love for you to take them."

"I, ah… Thanks," Mads said again. "I don't have much, so that would be nice."

Mrs. Wilson, who had picked up on that Mads didn't want to be touched, held herself back from hugging her. They agreed on a time that they would drop off the clothes, and were off, promising to wash everything and pack it up for her.

Standing there in a daze, Mads looked down at the handful of items she now held before slamming the door shut and locking it. The handkerchief was set in the bathroom sink to soak in cold water and soap while she brushed her teeth in the kitchen, ignoring her growling belly.

She decided she would sneak a bit of rent into the register before she left for the day, enough to cover a week's worth of rent and hope they wouldn't notice. Quickly, she brushed through her hair, which had turned into a fluffy nest after sleeping on it wet, and dressed in the only clean pair of jeans she'd brought with her, and an old t-shirt.

Grabbing her biking jacket, pulling her heavy boots onto her feet, and settling her helmet over her head, Mads shoved the map and directions into her backpack along with the money, and locked the door before sneaking into the front office. Quickly, Mads put about a week's worth of rent into the register before running out to her bike. It was going to be a long, strange day if this morning was anything to go by.


Her earlier prediction was correct. It was strange. The banker who had helped her set up her account was suspicious about the large wads of cash she brought in, grilling her about a parent coming in to co-sign on the account, but as soon as she'd started her spiel about emancipation, he'd clamped his mouth shut so hard Mads worried he'd cracked a tooth.

"Wouldn't your social worker have set something up for you?" He asked in response to her speech, raising a brow.

Mads smiled a disarmingly demure smile, as though she were embarrassed. It was oh so easy to fool older men when they thought you were helpless, a damsel.

"They were supposed to," she replied, projecting as much sadness into her big hazel eyes as she could without actually using her powers. "But I had to relocate earlier and on my own because of some… issues back home. Social services will be checking in soon to make sure everything is set up properly."

Which was total bull. It was actually an acquaintance of Axel's who owed her a huge favor who was making the call. Playing the part of her social worker was the least he could do. After all, she did help get rid of his drug trafficking charges by manipulating the prosecuting officers' minds.

"The government wants to do everything but help the kids in its own country huh," He groused, leaning back in his chair. "If you were one of my girls… Okay kid, I'll set you up."

It also turned out that Mr. Wilson had called the bank too and told them not to give her a hard time. Being one of the only motels in town meant that they generated a lot of income for the bank and pissing the Wilsons off was not high on their priority list. That and, the banker was vehemently protective of his own teenage girls.

After all her paperwork was processed and more than half of her stolen money was in the bank's vaults, Mads headed to the movie theater, where the manager regretfully informed her that they had filled the position the afternoon before. But the theater would be looking for her application during the summer months. That worked out just fine for Mads, since she wasn't planning on being around that long anyway. The less paper trail of her existence the better. All that she could do now was head to the general store.

The owner there – Donald Melvald – was very understanding about her needs and said that her work schedule would easily fit her school schedule. The Wilson's had proved to be very useful. A quick call to the banker sorted out the new job situation and all was settled.

Since she was there, she decided to grab some non-perishables and canned goods to take back to the motel with her. She also picked up a pack of disposable plates, utensils, and cups along with a can opener. Toothpaste and deodorant were next. It was all cheap stuff so she didn't have to worry about spending too much cash; however, the hair care products were where she splurged. One, because she needed hairspray, two, because the good shampoo smelled like strawberries and she was going to take care of her goddamn hair.

When she excited the store, she realized it was getting pretty late, especially since it was now autumn and the days were getting shorter. Quickly, she packed up her saddlebags and started up her bike, securing her helmet over her head once again. Dark was when the less presentable denizens of most cities came crawling out of the woodwork, and Hawkins was no different. This was no trouble for Mads though, as she felt safest in the dark.

It was insulating, covered her up, cradled her in its soft fingers. Bathed her in soft light occasionally, but protected her from prying eyes when she needed it. The dark was good.

However, her anxiety was flaring up and she needed to find some weed. So, she set out for the seediest bar in town, which happened to be aptly named "Hideaway". A wry smile crossed her lips as she pulled up to the building and saw its name. People of various ages loitered about the outside, smoking, drinking even though the light was still out, but waning.

Rock music and smoky air wafted through the open door as Mads peered in from the parking lot. It certainly was the sort of place she was looking for, but also the kind of place people who were searching for her may congregate. There were illicit dealings going down in this place, for sure.

But she hadn't eaten all day, she was starving and she craved the feeling of complete relaxation a high gave her. Her nerves, while not exactly frayed, were getting close to the wire. Interacting with so many people today had done a number on her.

Steeling herself, Mads turned off the bike's ignition and pocketed the keys, making sure the bags were locked up tight before making her way inside. Ignoring the jeers from the drunks in the parking lot, she tucked her helmet under her arm and sidled up to the bar. The tender looked at her suspiciously, but handed her a menu along with a list of on tap beer.

While she did drink, she was not about to drive after, so, she pushed the list to the side and asked for water. The bartender rolled his eyes, but slammed a bottle of water down on the counter as he waited for her order.

"Burger and fries," she bit out with a glare, slapping cash down on the counter, enough to cover the tab with a large tip.

Once she showed her money, the guy changed his tune. "That'll be right out," he said with a more cheerful tone, snatching up her money.

"Wait," Mads demanded and the bartender paused mid-turn, waiting for her to speak again.

Leaning in, she rested her elbows on the counter and lowered her voice. "Know where I can get some… dope?"

"Oh, yeah," the guy grinned knowingly, pointing over Mads' shoulder. "The kid over there with the band knows Reefer Rick, he can hook you up."

With that, he turned to put in her order and put her money in the till as Mads twisted in her seat to look at who the bartender had pointed to. From where she sat, she saw four boys – all teenagers – playing their instruments at the back of the bar. They weren't bad, but they were obviously overcompensating with volume for what they lacked in practiced talent.

The frontman was who the bartender had pointed to, a tallish boy with long, brown hair who was playing a red and black Warlock. He looked shockingly like Eddie Van Halen with his rangy build and fluffy hair, though Van Halen's was longer. The way his fingers flew over the instrument, the energy he exuded… even though he was playing with his friends in a seedy bar and not on an international stage for thousands of adoring fans, he was loving every second of it.

From across the room his eyes – impossibly dark from what she could tell as far away as she was – met hers and she lifted her bottled water in a salute, eliciting a grin. She never turned away, even when her food arrived, Mads just set the basket in her lap and watched him as she ate. Waiting.

Not to say that she wasn't enjoying the show he was putting on, especially now that he had an audience who was paying attention. But she wanted her weed. The amusingly goofy antics of a teenage boy who knew he was being watched was an added bonus.

Too soon – thanks to her ravenous appetite – her food was gone and she really had no other reason to be there. The bartender, who probably just wanted another tip, brought her another bottle of water, which she reluctantly paid for and drank greedily. As she did so, the band ended their set and boy who played the Warlock sidled up to her, leaning against the bar.

"Soooo…" Came his smooth drawl. "Enjoy the show?"

A smile crept over Mads face as she placed the cap back on her new bottled water, turning toward him. "It was entertaining," she mused, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I aim to please," he grinned, bowing with a flourish.

"You're an energetic performer." She bit back a laugh.

"Thank you!" He exclaimed, placing his hand over his heart, dark eyes widening endearingly. "Energetic… that's a great description!"

"I aim to please," she mimicked, jumping down from the barstool looking him up and down as he laughed.

He had about five inches on her and looked to be about her age, give or take a year. Warm smile, wiry, mischievous expression. This was a good kid, even if he had a visible tattoo and was mixed up with a guy called "Reefer Rick". Perhaps this was a bad idea.

Mads was never one to heed a "perhaps", but she almost wished she would. Getting this kid involved with her in any way would ruin his life, besides the fact that he lived in Hawkins. Which was cursed as Hell.

But before she could make up her mind, the boy stuck out his hand to introduce himself.

"Eddie Munson," he said, smile still in place.

"That's ironic," she deadpanned, grinning at his confused expression. "When I saw you, I thought you looked just like Eddie Van Halen."

His smile turned into his biggest grin yet. "You have no idea how much of a complement that is!"

God, his energy was infectious. He was a good, good, kid. She couldn't do this. She'd just find someone else to get her dope from. He, Eddie, didn't need someone like her – a hurricane of massively destructive proportions – ruining his life as she inevitably would should she buy from him.

Kids like him… they always got too friendly and always ended up hurt when she disappeared, or when Brenner's people were on the gang's trail. This was an incredibly stupid endeavor.

"So, you gonna give me your name?" Eddie asked, still holding out his hand.

Fuck it.

"Yeah, it's Madison," she said as she reached a trembling hand out, shuddering when she clasped his hand with hers.

The muscles in her jaw worked as she attempted to suppress the revulsion that arose, the nausea that crept through her. It was just a fucking handshake. She could do this. Her heart was pounding and she could feel sweat beading up on her forehead, but she ignored it. The high would be worth it.

"No last name? I get it." Relization lit up his eyes as he withdrew his hand from hers – a wave of relief – and gestured to his bandmates, who began playing another set without him, then to her and headed outside.

Grabbing her water, Mads picked her way through the now very crowded bar, trembling as she tried to avoid touching anyone. When she stepped through the door, she saw that Eddie was nearing an old, beat-up van and hurried to catch up.

"Right, so," Eddie began, banging open the back of the van and rustling around inside before facing her again, black box in hand. "Cash only and, uh, no receipts."

Mads rolled her eyes and fished a wad of cash out of her back pocket. "I've done this before; will this cover it?"

Eyes bulging, Eddie shook his head violently. "That much will buy more than what I've got!"

"Oh…" Mads mumbled, brow furrowing. "It suck or something? I always pay this much back home."

"Well," Eddie said cautiously. "I don't know about where you're from, but this is pretty good shit. I don't sell anything I don't like myself."

"So how much?"

"Twenty an ounce…"

Mads let out a laugh of surprise. She was going to get so high later.

"Damn, how much do you have on you?"

Eddie told her the amount and she laughed again, nearly manic with the promise of an amazing high.

"I'll take half." She set her water on the ground and pulled a significantly smaller amount of bills from the wad and handed it to him.

"Deal," he said, eyes widening at the amount of money he'd just made, his fingers brushing against hers as he took it from her. He didn't even register the grimace that crossed her face or the shudder that wracked her body at his touch.

"Pleasure doing business with you," he said, grinning down at her with awe in his eyes and handed over her purchase.

"Same here," she replied, grabbing it carefully and tucking it on the inside of her jacket.

They stood there awkwardly for a few moments before Mads muttered a goodbye and turned toward her bike. But a hand around her wrist stopped her before she could get too far.

Fight, flight, freeze. Kali had taught her fight and flight, but freezing was her default, which is what she did then. Froze, save the tremors wracking her body.

"Hey, hey, sorry!" It was Eddie, not Brenner. Not the orderlies. Not 001. "You left your water…"

"Fuck," she spat, ripping herself from his grip. "Thanks."

He looked at her uneasily, holding out the bottle to her. She took it from him and clutched it to her chest, trying to just fucking breathe.

"You good?" Eddie asked, holding up his hands to show her he wasn't going to touch her again.

"Yeah…" She said shakily, breathing deeply through her nose. "I just don't do the whole touching thing."

"Right, sorry," he rubbed the back of his neck. "Won't happen again."

"Thanks."

"Yeah, sorry again."

They stood there in the dark parking lot silently. Mads realized he was staying with her because she was having a freak out. Damn it, why did she have to find the honest and nice drug dealer in town? Why couldn't he have been like the dickheads in Chicago who would promise to knock half off the price if she gave them head, then piss themselves when she threatened to cut off their balls instead.

Fuck.

"I gotta get out of here," Mads said slowly, now that she could breathe.

"You gonna be okay?" Eddie asked her, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. He was actually concerned. What was it with people in this town? All of them had been so stupidly nice and helpful. How did the Lab get set up in this place?

"Yeah. I'll survive," she said, giving him a small wave..Eddie returned it and she turned away, leaving him there in the dark.

The sound of the engine roaring to life on her bike was like a balm. She could go anywhere on it, so long as she had the gas. It was her freedom.

It was time to go light up.


The room was nice and warm when Mads returned, almost cozy. The radiator had lost its musty smell since it had been running regularly and the room felt less uninviting. It was a relief to come back, which surprised her.

There were tote boxes sitting on the floor of the living space, more than she thought there would be. She'd go through them later. Her groceries needed to be unpacked and she wanted to smoke. It would be bad if her new clothes smelled like dope.

Mads sat her bags down on the counter and began pulling things out, opening cupboards to decide where to put it all. Not that she had much to put away. But when she opened one cupboard, it was filled with food. Cereal, Bisquick, other box mixes, and cans.

"What the hell…" She murmured. These things weren't there last night, that much was for certain. She pulled out the Bisquick and shook it. The box was full.

She opened another cupboard and this one had coffee, tea, spices, and mugs in it. The next held dishes and cups. The drawers were filled with cooking utensils, silverware, and pots and pans. The cupboard under the sink had a variety of cleaning products.

Yanking the fridge and freezer doors open, Mads was shocked to see that both were filled to the brim with food of all kinds. Shit, shit. What the hell? Box in hand, she ran to the bathroom to see that several boxes of feminine products, toothpaste, floss, mouthwash… a basic first aid kit and medicines along with the same nice brand of shampoo and conditioner she had bought that afternoon were all sitting on the counter.

She ran back to the kitchen, breathing heavily, anxiety creeping over her again when she noticed a note and a handful of change on the counter. Gingerly, she picked it up. It read:

"Madison,

We know we weren't introduced properly this morning, so we got your name from our registry book. We took the liberty of using the money you snuck back into the register to pay for some necessities for you, we count religiously. We hope you don't mind. The change on the counter is what was left over, which you could use at the laundromat, or we could wash your clothes here. Whatever you prefer.

We also will be taking your safety seriously, so anyone asking for you will be turned away unless you let us know about them beforehand. We left the clothes in the boxes so you could put things how you want them. Let us know if you need anything else, we are happy to help.

- James and Pamela Wilson"

Trembling. She was trembling. The words on the page were blurring and she tried to blink it away but each time something warm and wet would trickle down her cheeks and her eyes would become blurry again.

She had forgotten to close the fridge. Mads stumbled over to the fridge and slammed the freezer shut, but when she placed her hand on the handle to the fridge door, her knees buckled beneath her.

That fat lump from earlier returned to her throat, but this time she couldn't swallow it back. The only thing that would relieve it was to let out cries of rage and pain and the bittersweet emotions the Wilsons' kindness made her feel.

So, Mads knelt there in the light of the refrigerator, tears streaming onto the linoleum, while she clutched the unopened box of Bisquick to her chest.


A/N: Cross posted on Ao3 under the "Stranger Things: The Mixtape" series.

This is the "mixtape" I created for this fic. It's not entirely period accurate, but I feel like these songs fit the theme of the show and characters.

playlist/2w0Fg6UPmVvj5L3EIMRYfw?si=d8e38810c96f4875