Both girls sat on the couch in one of the boy's homes. Both were breathing heavily as their nerves were overloading them. Charlotte was unsure why the young boy allowed them into the home, or why he had trusted them, but when he opened the door to his basement and let them in, she had thanked him.

"Are you guys sisters? Is there a number we can call for your parents?" The tallest of the boys spoke up, handing Eleven his jacket and Charlotte a towel. She frowned at the smell of the towel, knowing that it was clearly dirty, but had placed it over her shirt anyways.

"Where's your hair?" The curly haired boy asked, a small gap in his teeth. "Do you have cancer?"

"Did you guys run away?" The dark skinned boy asked.

"Are you in some kind of trouble?"

"Is that blood?" The questions were constant and consuming as Charlotte looked at Eleven. The boys argued back and forth as the two girls refused to answer.

"Alright, that's enough, alright? They're just scared and cold." Eleven flinched, reaching for Charlotte's hand as the thunder rumbled, practically shaking the house. "Here, these are clean. It's my sister's, you're about the same size as her." The boy handed her a pair of warm pants and a sweater, Charlotte nodded her thanks while he held out a shirt and pants to Eleven. "And uh, that's- that's mine."

Eleven took the clothes and almost started getting dressed while Charlotte grabbed her hand quickly to stop her, all three of the boys freaking out and screaming, while pointing to the bathroom. Eleven got dressed first while Charlotte stood outside the door and listened to the boys talk about their plan to let them sleep in the house. She stopped listening when Eleven walked out of the bathroom, finally letting Charlotte change out of her wet clothes.

Charlotte stared at herself, seeing herself for the first time in a mirror clearly in over nine years. She looked at the dirt on her face and wiped it off with a cloth. As she continued staring, she couldn't help but be reminded of her mother. She looked almost exactly how her mother looked when she last saw her. She let her tears pool in her eyes at the image, before sniffling her nose and wiping the tears away.

She took a deep breath as she wiped the dirt away with a cloth hanging next to the sink. Sighing, as her face finally looked cleaner. She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear and opened the door. She watched as Eleven smiled at the boy and said a quiet "Night, Mike" while the boy walked up the stairs.

"Eleven." Charlotte moved towards the young girl who looked up at her with slightly less fearful eyes.

"El." The girl said softly.

"El." Charlotte smiled at the name. "I have to go. Just for a little while."

"No." El's eyes were wide now as she shook her head, lip trembling.

"You are safe here." She promised. "If you need me, just call out to me. I will always listen out for you."

"Where?"

"My family." She told the girl, who nodded slightly. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

Though the thunder and lightning were still filling the sky, the rain had finally let up as Charlotte rode the bike she had found through the woods. The hood on the heavy pink jacket that she had taken from the basement was pulled over her head, keeping her body warm as she traveled through the darkness of the forest.

She was unsure just how far she had ridden, or what time it was, but she knew that she was tired. She finally reached the trailer park, leaning the bike against the familiar wooden sign. She once again counted the houses one by one until she finally found the one that she wanted. She stared at the padlock on the front door, before holding her hand out and squeezing, snapping the lock off with ease.

She opened the door, the hinges still squeaking the same way they did back then. She was hit with a rush of memories from her final day in her old life.

It was a Sunday in early Autumn. Every Sunday was always the same. The smell of her mom baking her homemade chocolate chip cookies as she hummed to Pink Floyd. The sound of her dad screaming at the Chicago Bears. The way her brother and his best friend fought about who played a better Jimi Hendrix on the air guitar. She was outside on the porch listening to everything that was going on as she laid on her stomach, drawing the neighborhood cat that she had been delighted to name Scooby.

Everything was fine. Normal. Until it wasn't.

Charlotte looked around, shaking away the memory as she walked further into the home. It looked exactly the same, but it was completely different at the same time.

It looked hauntingly unlived in. Unloved.

Everything was where it usually was. Nothing out of the ordinary. Everything was in its rightful place, like it had stayed exactly how she left it. Like it was waiting for her to return to it.

But on the wall where her height was once measured, vines grew over the pencil marks, and they were taller than she had ever been. Windows that were once opened during the summer months to allow in a slight breeze, were now smashed, leaving a constant frigidness. Water stains monopolized the ceiling leading drops of rain to leak through, as if her home was crying for her.

She walked back to the room that she had once shared with her brother, Christopher. Her side had been frozen in time. The same bedspread. The same pictures on the wall. The same brown Dakin Drooper plush dog laying on her bed.

While her brother's side had changed slightly. Different posters, that were now faded and torn, encompassed the walls. New drawings were on the small desk that they had shared. It seemed like he had tried to move on without her, but was afraid to. And she couldn't help but wonder if he felt as if he were a prisoner, just as she was.

She picked up the small framed photograph that was on his end table. It was a picture of him and her on Christmas the year before she disappeared. She was holding a brand new copy of The Hobbit that she had begged him to read to her, while he was holding a stack of new comic books, both with wide smiles on their faces.

She barely registered the sound of footsteps until it was too late, a creak from the hallway startled her. The frame fell from her hands, shattering all over the floor. Charlotte panicked as she fell onto her knees with it, disregarding the glass that had sliced open the palm of her hand.

"Look what you did!" She yelled, tears in her eyes as she attempted to fix the picture frame. She sat on her bottom gracelessly falling against the night stand. She looked at the tall boy standing in front of her, his long messy waves framed his face as she recognized him from the previous night. "It's broken!"

She picked up the photo and held it against her chest as she tried not to let her anger, her despair loose on the boy. His brown eyes stared at her with unease. He was not exactly familiar with what to do with crying teenage girls.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you." He looked her up and down, ignoring the fact that he recognized her as the girl who stole his blanket just yesterday, when he saw that her hand was bleeding. "You okay?"

"I'm fine." She sniffled, standing up from where she sat, trying to avoid the glass.

"You're bleeding." He pointed to her hand, but she flinched back at the sudden movement, looking at him skeptically. The boy put his hands up in surrender, trying to look less intimidating. "I'm not gonna hurt you. What's your name?"

Charlotte ignored him as she looked down at the photo of her and her brother again, holding it tightly in her uninjured hand.

"Did you know them? The Hanovers?" The boy nodded towards the picture, moving slowly so as to not frighten her again.

"Yes." She whispered, looking up at him now, realizing just how much taller he was than her. "Did you?"

"Yeah. Yeah." He nodded, crossing his arms over his chest. She could sense the sadness radiating off of him now as he cleared his throat. "They were my neighbors. You family of theirs? A friend?" Charlotte didn't answer as her breath hitched and her eyes moved away from the boy. "I, uh, I knew Chris. Yeah, we were friends. Best friends. He, uh, he played in my band."

"Where are they?" She asked quietly, realizing now exactly who was standing in front of her. He had always been the better Jimi Hendrix not that she would ever admit that to her brother.

"My band? They're uh, they're probably at home. I don't know, we don't usually practice on Tuesdays."

"Not your band."

"Oh, the Hanovers?" He cleared his throat again, she could sense the slight embarrassment mixed with tension, grief. "They, uh, they died. A little over a year ago. Some kind of freak accident. I'm sorry." He saw the way her eyes filled with tears as she squeezed them shut, her lip trembling, her hands shaking. "Uh, you should really clean that up."

"Hmm?" She finally opened her eyes, and he could instantly tell she was trying to be strong, trying to hold it all together. He pointed to her hand that had dripped blood onto the old carpet. She nodded her head as he inched towards her, his gentle brown eyes boring into hers to ensure she wasn't going to flinch back again. When there were no signs of fear on her face, he took a gentle hold of her and escorted her to his trailer across the street.

"Come on in." He opened the door for her. "It's a little messy. But uh, mi casa es su casa." She furrowed her eyebrows at him, but sat in the chair that he pointed to. "Spanish class. Maybe I won't actually flunk this year."

Charlotte watched as he walked away, sighing as she looked around his home. He had only been gone for a second when he came back holding a small bottle and a black cloth in his hand.

"Alcohol. And not the drinking kind." He grinned a cheeky smile, his dimples prominent on his cheeks. She stared into his eyes, realizing just how much he had changed over the past years. But one thing that remained were his big brown eyes that portrayed so much emotion, even before she knew she had the ability to sense them. He blew on the palm of her hand to allow the alcohol to dry before he held up the black cloth. "We don't have that fancy gauze shit. But I do have a clean bandana. Fresh out the sock drawer."

She watched on silently as he wrapped and then tied the bandana around her palm with a surprising amount of gentleness.

"There. Now you look metal as fuck. Even in this bright pink jacket." He smiled as she just looked at him strangely. "So, what were you doing over at the Hanovers?"

"I used to live there." She finally admitted.

"There? Are you sure?" A questioning look on his face. "The Hanovers lived there as long as I've been alive. And no one's moved in since they died." He watched as she took a deep breath and looked down at the photograph in her hand once again. His eyes caught the picture and a stunned look fell onto his face. "Unless… holy shit… Char?"

"You remember who I am?"

"Remember you? Of course I remember you." He sighed, running his fingers through his hair nervously. "Everyone remembers you. You've been gone for over nine years. You're like some urban legend parents and teachers tell all these kids. You were the first person to go missing in Hawkins in like fifty years. Except the Byers kid that's missing now." She frowned at his words. "Shit, I'm sorry. Should I be like… reporting that I found you or some shit?"

"No!" She shook her head quickly, standing up from the chair. "No one can know that I am alive. They will take me again." She breathed heavily, panic over taking her features. "I do not… I cannot. Please."

"Hey, alright. You're alright. You're safe. I'm not gonna tell anyone. Your secret is safe with me."

"Safe." She tried to calm her breathing.

"Yeah." He nodded, his eyes soft. "You're safe."

And for the few minutes that she was with him, she convinced herself that she actually was. But she didn't have a chance to respond when she was swept away by an onslaught of paralyzing fear from somewhere that she could not quite place. Her heart raced as the humming and quiet murmurs for help flooded her head.

The long haired boy looked at her, his eyebrows furrowing as she began to shake slightly.

"You're safe." He reiterated, she looked into his eyes, knowing that he was being truthful. It was only a moment later that she heard El calling out for her.

"I have to leave."

"Wait- where are you gonna go?" She just looked at him, refusing to respond. Not because she didn't trust him. But because she genuinely did not know what she will be doing this time tomorrow. "Are you gonna come back?" She blinked, unsure of what to say. "Okay. Uh. Well…"

"Tomorrow." She spoke up before she could even cut herself off. "I can bring back your blanket."

"Keep it." He smiled, but nodded his head. "Tomorrow."

She began walking towards the door as he followed her, holding it open for her as she smiled slightly. His curious eyes were on her, realizing the resemblance between the young girl he used to know and the girl standing before him. She looked up at him one more time and took a deep breath.

"D-Did they miss me?" She asked quietly, her eyes watering. If he wasn't standing just a foot away from her, he didn't think he would have heard it.

"Yeah. Everyone did." She could tell he was telling the truth by the way his eyes refused to break contact with hers. "They never stopped looking, Char."

"Thank you, Eddie." She wiped a tear away as she started walking away. He stared at her in stunned silence, shocked that she returned and that she remembered exactly who he was.

Eleven was sitting up, waiting for Charlotte to return after calling out to her. It had only been a few minutes when the girl quietly placed the bicycle against the house and entered the basement through the back door. She took off the jacket and hung it back up where she found it. El stared at her, seeing the tears that lingered in her eyes. Charlotte sat next to the younger girl, leaning her head against the wall as she sighed out.

"Hurt." Eleven pointed to the makeshift bandage on Charlotte's hand.

"I'm okay, El." The girl promised, closing her eyes.

"Family?" Charlotte opened her eyes and just shook her head, tears still threatening to fall. "Gone?"

"Yes." She cleared her throat quietly. "Gone."

"Family." El spoke slowly as she placed her hand in the older girl's, letting a small smile grace her face. Charlotte just nodded, squeezing her hand back before putting her head on the younger girl's shoulder.

"Sisters." She nodded, closing her eyes, wishing she could stop hearing the sudden haunting sound of the humming and cries for help.