Hey everyone! Back with another chapter! Thank you so much for the reviews, favorites, and follows!
The Bluest Lips: Thank you so much for your kind review! I was aiming for heart wrenching, so I am happy I succeeded.
Mistress Rayven: Thanks! I really do try to build up a story, rather than just jumping right in to the events of the show, so it means a lot to get a compliment like yours!
Eala Bhan: I really appreciated your reviews! Yes, I deliberately wrote it that way in the beginning because I wanted the emotional punch to be there for when the readers realize who Bonnie's father was, and how bad it was gonna be. I'm sorry for making you sob though! I enjoyed Benny (from the little time we saw on screen) and I wanted to write more about the impact his death would have on the community of Hawkins, because from the looks of it, he was decent well-liked dude.
BSPunk: Lol I aim to make all the sad feels, and it seems I am succeeding. Sorry about your day though and I appreciate the review! :)
MoonlightFlower54: Thank you so much! I'm glad you're enjoying the story so far, and yes, I had to do it very soon into the story because I have big plans for Bonnie, and as someone in this chapter says, "This is only the beginning!". I can't wait to hear your thoughts about this chapter!
Thank you very much to iammod for favoriting the story! Welcome! Also a gigantic thank you to L90, Megblueeyes, Navidasti, beastielou98, and lem00066 for following the story! I hope you enjoy this next chapter! Also, thank you to The Bluest Lips, Cherryblossom305, Eala Bhan, and Pein-Naru for joining the Favorite/Follow family! We have raves, balloons, and milkshakes here! So welcome! :D
Disclaimer: I do not own Stranger Things, only Bonnie, Rosa, and any other O.C. I make up.
T.W.: Suicide mentions, graphic descriptions, bodies, grief, and shitty parenting are depicted in this chapter. Reader discretion is advised.
I couldn't stop crying.
Like I physically couldn't stop. I tried to will myself to, but my body wouldn't let me. Every single time I tried to hold back my tears, it only made things worse.
After crying into Sheriff Hopper's shirt for half an hour, he had Eddie drive me back to the trailer park. He had to get statement reports from the people that came across my father's bod-well, just my father.
I sat in Eddie's van, with there being a heavy silence over us. He kept his stare on the road ahead. There was no music playing, the Cilla Black cassette long since shut off. The only noise came from the soft rumbling of the vehicle as it made it's way forward.
I sat in that van, when I noticed that the doors started inching closer in. I stared at my door because every second that passed, the door came in closer to me. I looked up, and saw that the roof to the van was also coming down, shrinking closer and closer to my head, as did the windshield in front of me.
I looked to my left to see Eddie's seat was also moving in closer to me, and when I quickly glanced back, the back of the automobile kept getting smaller and smaller. Everything was closing in, from all sides, and it started to suffocate me.
My heart started to race as everything shrunk around me, the fear of being crushed from the increasingly small space in the van starting to overwhelm my senses.
"St-stop the van." I hiccupped, starting to unbuckle myself. My hands were shaking so bad that they had a difficult time even performing as simple a task as that.
Eddie looked at me and without a word, pulled off the side of the road. I quickly stumbled out of the car, falling onto my side, and started to run.
That claustrophobic car, the shitty trailer park, and the incident at the restaurant- I had to get away from it all. I ran, as fast my legs could take me. I needed to put distance between myself and what just happened.
"BONNIE! HOLD UP!" I could heard Eddie call after me, but I didn't care. I had to get away, and I had to do it fast.
My feet pounded the forest floor, dead leaves and fallen twigs crunching under the weight of each step as I pumped my arms to make me go faster.
My lungs begged me to slow down. They begged me for air and my throat asked for water. My legs ached at the sudden onslaught of exercise, but I ignored all of my bodily symptoms. I had to keep going despite the pain.
The forest could heal-my Dad taught me that. There was something so sacred about the wilderness that it maintained the ability to cure most ailments. Perhaps, if I was able to run fast enough, the woods could cure me of time.
To a time earlier in the day when my worst nightmare wasn't happening. To a time yesterday when I last saw him. To a time when we would go out into these same woods to thrive in the gifts the Earth had given us. If I ran fast enough, maybe the forest could cure me of that lost time and give that most precious present back to me.
As I ran, I went through some low hanging branches that proceeded to scratch up my face. I stumbled over a bush, and fell hard face first. Despite being hurt, I didn't want to stay down, so I pushed myself up. I ended up twisting my ankle a bit when I tripped, but I continued to run forward, albeit with a limp.
I heard some heavy footsteps behind me and could hear, "HAMMOND! SLOW DOWN!"
Slow down? That wasn't possible.
I needed to go faster. Put the awfulness behind me, but due to my limp, it put a severe hindrance on my ability to run. If I outran it, maybe it wouldn't be real anymore. If I outran it, I could go fast enough and maybe end up back to yesterday, when all of the troubles that plagued me at that moment, would have ceased to exist. I needed to go to yesterday.
Finally, I saw Eddie come up to my side and get in front of me, firmly making me stop. He was holding his right side, which probably hurt from the long sprint.
"Hey! You. Have. To. Stop. Running!" He told me between heavy pants for air. Eddie put his hands on my shoulders, still trying to his catch breath, saying, "Why the hell did you start running?" I jerked my arm back, and Eddie immediately held his hands up to show he wasn't a threat.
"I-I-I just need it to go away! If I keep going it will!"
My body was happy that I stopped, and the pain from my ankle shot up tenfold, and I hissed out, "Fuck!" I collapsed on the dirt ground, and held it. Tears started to sting my eyes, that familiar watery sensation taking over. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! Jesus!" My tears dripped onto my legs as I held onto my ankle. My yellow dress was now covered in dirt, which I knew my mother would have my head for, but I paid no mind to it. I felt it was an accurate reflection of myself.
Eddie looked alarmed for a second. "Did you hurt yourself?" My throat thickened and I nodded.
"Why don't you get up, and we'll go back to my van?" He moved to help me up and I scooted out of reach.
"No!"
I could feel myself crumpling as I said ,"You don't understand!"
"What don't I understand?"
"I DON'T WANT HIM TO GO!" Sobs started to rack my body, and I felt it hard to breathe. "I-I-I just n-nee-need all of this to go away! I don't want this!" I choked out. I couldn't get my sentences out correctly because I was crying so hard. I shook my head vigorously trying to get the memory of what happened earlier out of my mind. "I don't want it! I just want my Dad."
Eddie stayed still for a moment as he contemplated his next move. Finally, he sat down beside me and said quietly, "It's never gonna go away, Hammond." I looked up at him, trying to wipe away my tears with my dirty hands.
Eddie sighed, and ran a hand through his long brown locks, accidentally getting a couple leaves stuck in them. "Listen, my Dad was in and out of prison my entire life. One day, he decided that doing messed up shit was better than raising his son, so he left." Eddie gave me a solemn look and scooched closer by an inch.
I looked at Eddie with wide tear filled eyes. Why was he telling me this? "My father", he continued in low soft voice, "was not a good dad. He chose to leave me. But I have known, ever since we were kids, that your father loved you very much." I felt a softball sized lump in my throat and tried to swallow it, but couldn't.
"However he passed, he didn't chose to leave you. Just seeing you guys out and about in town, and at the restaurant, he loved you, Bonnie. He loved you very much. I may not have known him, but I can surely say with every confidence that this is true." Eddie's brown eyes stared into mine.
"He wouldn't leave me." I whimpered out. "He wouldn't leave me..."
"No", Eddie agreed firmly, "he wouldn't. If he did though, it wasn't by his choice. Don't think for a second that it was. Not for a goddamn second."
Eddie, even though he didn't know my father, told me what I needed to hear. It wasn't his choice to leave me. My father was selfless, and I knew that if it was between him and me, he would choose me every single time. He wouldn't leave me willingly.
I wiped away some tears and sniffled. "I'm so sorry...we were supposed to watch movies. I'm so sorry you have to deal with this."
Eddie brushed his hair out, the leaves that were caught in there falling to the ground. "Don't you dare apologize! This isn't your fault, and you have nothing to be sorry for. I'm sorry that you have to go through this. I really am, Bonnie."
Silently I nodded. Then I whispered, "I just wish I could forget it right now. It's too much. The van felt like it was shrinking in on me, and I don't want to go to the trailer park. I just want to go home."
Eddie stood up and held out a hand to me. "So, I'll take you home. You don't have to go back to the trailer park if that's where you don't want to be." Slowly, I reached out and took his hand in mine. His hand was slightly rough from the callouses he built from playing guitar. He pulled me up, coming face to face with me. His brown eyes glanced down to my ankle, then back up to my face. His eyebrows scrunched together as he asked me, "Can you walk?"
"Maybe...It hurts pretty bad..." Eddie sighed. Then he reached down, put his hands under my legs, and lifted me up. He started to carry me bridal style back to the car. If this had been under normal circumstances, I would have been blushing like crazy, and would have flustered while trying to get him to put me down. But these weren't normal circumstances, and for a moment, a brief singular moment, I felt at peace being carried in the arms of Eddie Munson.
It was odd. Had someone told me a week prior that my father was gone and Eddie Munson, out of all people, would be comforting me because of this fact, I would have called them crazy. But, here we were, both things being true.
I put my arms around his neck and my head to his chest as he walked forward. I looked up and saw that he was red in the face while he was straining for breaths. "You okay, Eddie?"
"Trying not to talk right now, Hammond. Believe it or not, I'm not used to carrying people." As he said that I felt myself starting to slip. Eddie stopped as he adjusted himself to pull my body up more. He kept walking and it was silent until we reached the van that was off on the side of the road. Eddie set me down and said, "There we go." He opened the door for me, and I froze.
What if the inside of the van started to shrink on me again? I peered inside and saw that it wasn't shrunken. It was back to it's original state, and as much as I didn't want to, I got in. Eddie shut the door and climbed in on the other side, starting the engine again and driving forward.
It was odd. I felt my tears stop, but the pain was back to being all consuming. I put my head against the glass of the window and shut my eyes. I kept my eyes from opening until I felt the car stop completely once again. I opened my eyes and saw we were back at my home on Cherry Lane.
I blinked and felt the comfort of being there immediately come over me. I was home. I wasn't at that shitty trailer park with the bedroom that I hated and the odd people that lived there. I back at the comforting house where I learned how to bake brownies. I was back at the place where my Dad and I would build blanket forts when I was five, and back at the place where we would have cooking matches in the kitchen, and the winner would get to pick the movie we'd watch for the night.
I was home.
All of the memories I spent there with my father were caked into the walls, and I felt content in knowing that at least I had this house to call home.
But then I realized, that it may be different now. That maybe, with Daddy gone, it wouldn't feel like home anymore. I also knew that I would rather be here than at the trailer, so I got out and looked over to my shoulder at Eddie.
"Thank you for everything today. I really appreciate you, Eddie." Eddie gave me the smallest of smiles. "That's what friends are for." I grabbed my backpack and shut the passenger door. Eddie got out and opened up the back of his van, taking out my bike. He put it on the ground, closed the back, and wheeled the bike to the covered sun porch. I limped my way over to him and got the front door, and unlocked it. "You can just leave it on the porch." I told him.
Eddie put the bicycle down off to the side, and stood there with his hands in his pockets. "Hey, I don't know if this will make you uncomfortable or not, but do you want me to stay? I just don't think you should be alone right now..." He trailed off as he stared at me, his face full of nothing but sympathy.
Did I want him to stay over?
I didn't know, because it felt like it took to much energy to think of an answer. But as I looked inside the house, I knew I just wanted to go to my room, to my bed, and stay there for a long time. Perhaps having a guest over wouldn't be the best idea, because I might be neglectful to them.
"No, Eddie", I said limping inside, "maybe tomorrow night. Right now, I really just want to be alone."
"Well, if you're sure. But if there's something you need, just let me know." He started to make his way back to his way back to his car when something popped in my head. "Wait!" Eddie turned around as I called out to him. "Sheriff Hopper might be over at my Mom's later on. If you see him, tell him that I'm back here. I don't want him to worry or for you to get in trouble in any way. Please?"
"You don't have anything to worry about", Eddie assured me, "I'll let the Sheriff know you're here. You just get some rest, okay?" I nodded. "Okay. 'Night, Edward."
Eddie snorted at the sound of his given name and walked away. "Goodnight, Bonnie."
I went inside and closed the front door. I limped my way to the bathroom. Piece by piece, I took off my dirty clothes and put them in the hamper by the door. I turned on the water and stepped inside the shower. The water was scalding hot, though I didn't bother to adjust the temperature. I left it there. For a long time, I didn't wash myself. I sat down in the floor of the tub and leaned myself against the wall. The warm embrace of the water was comforting, so I sat there until I started to ache from sitting on the floor of the shower for so long.
Steadily, I got up and washed my hair and scrubbed myself clean with a loofa. I scrubbed my skin until it was bright red from friction. I noticed that even though I was scouring myself raw, I still had this sensation that everything bad was still on me. I kept scrubbing, hoping the events of today would come off.
When the water started to turn cold, I reluctantly stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel that was hanging on the towel rack, and I wrapped it around myself. I went to my room and rummaged my drawers for some clean pajamas. As I was putting them on, the phone rang. I let it ring until the answering machine picked up whoever was calling. I could hear the message that was being left as I put on some socks.
""Míja, answer the phone! I need to know you're okay. Please come home. Jim just told me what happened!" My mother was crying on the phone, which I thought to be unusual because of how much she disliked Dad.
The phone rang again, and this time, when the answering machine picked it up, it was Sheriff Hopper. "Hey, Kid. I saw Munson at the trailer park. He told me you're back at the house. Listen, I know things are shitty right now, but I think you should be here with your Mom instead of on your own. Will Byers is still missing and I don't think your Dad would have wanted you to be put in any danger. But if you insist on being by yourself, lock the doors and keep your old man's Colt .45 nearby."
How bad was it with Will Byers if the Chief of Police just told me to keep my Dad's gun nearby? Will, my Dad, it felt like the world was going to shit. I got up and called out, "Mrs. Pumpkin! Mrs. Pumpkin, where are you?" I wandered around the house. I saw that her food and water bowls were half-full. I topped each off, and I walked back to my room. When I passed my Dad's door, which was cracked open, I heard a meow.
I opened the door, and I was assaulted by my Dad's smell. Pine bark, Irish Spring Soap, and the faintest smell of cooked hamburger grease wafted in the air. It was an odd scent mixture, but one that I had been accustomed to smelling. I walked inside and saw everything was just as he had left it. The sheets were undone, his bathroom door shut completely, and Mrs. Pumpkin laying down on the right side of the bed, purring loudly as she saw me. I checked under the bed and got out a box that was under it. Sure enough, snuggled inside, was my Dad's Colt .45. I put the lid back on and slid the box under my Dad's bed. I didn't want to deal with a gun right now.
I inhaled the scent once more, as my grim reality unfolded before me.
"He's not coming back." I muttered as I went and sat on the edge of the bed. That's when it hit me like a freight train.
My Dad was never going to come back.
He would never sleep in this bed again.
He wouldn't give me those bear hugs that I loved the most.
He would never be able to teach me how to drive, like he promised to do.
He wouldn't get to see me graduate high school, or college.
He would never see me take over the family business.
He would never have the privilege of meeting his future grandkids, or walking me down the aisle at my wedding.
We would never have our father/daughter dance at my wedding, and we would never go on another fishing trip again.
Why didn't I just go with him that one last time? Why did I have to be good and obedient, and listen to my Mom? Why couldn't I have been more rebellious? Perhaps if I was, I could have seen he wasn't doing alright.
The future my father had was something he was robbed of, and I would be out on my own to find my way forward, without him. I'd have to pick up the pieces he left behind in his passing.
That was truly the hardest thing. The unknown of it all. It was a bitter irony that I now understood what Eddie meant in it's entirety.
From this point forward, I would have to be on my own without my Dad, a reality that I knew absolutely nothing about, and it terrified me.
My chest constricted and my throat thickened. I fell back onto the mattress.
I curled up into a ball, and I didn't know if it was from my wet hair or my tears, but the pillow began to get damp from all the moisture coming from me.
I heard Mrs. Pumpkin get up and walk over to where I was, and she laid in my arms. She closed her eyes and purred. I don't know if she knew or not (because she was a big orange cat) that my Dad was never going to come back, and she would be waiting for him forever on his bed.
I held her fluffy body close to me, her purrs getting loud as she became content with all of the affection she was getting.
"He's not coming back." The sobs wracked my body, and I shook as I held onto Mrs. Pumpkin, "He's never coming back."
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I was in a pitch black room with only a single dim lamp hanging overhead. It emitted a soft glowing light, but it gave me no comfort from the dark. The floor was sticky, but due to how dark it was, I couldn't see what I was standing in.
I tried to lift up my foot to inspect what it was, but my efforts were futile. I put my foot down and called out, "Hello! Is anybody here?"
My voice echoed back, "Hello! Is anybody here? Is anybody here? Is anybody here?"
"It was all your fault."
I turned and saw a handsome man slowly walk up to me. The hairs on my neck and arms were raised high, and I had a gut instinct to run as far as I could. Everything in me was telling me that he was predator, and I was the prey he was circling for the kill, like a shark before it strikes.
However, I stayed. Despite my fears, I was curious, even if it was certain that my curiosity would be lethal.
Well, as the saying goes...
"Who are you?" I asked him as he approached me closely. He was all in white, and he gave me a malevolent smile.
"Time will tell." He looked me up and down, causing me to cross my arms out of self consciousness. I took a step back, and his smile widened as he was pleased with his intimidation.
"I said who are you? Answer me!" I told him more firmly, refusing to back down, though on the inside I was absolutely terrified. The man's blue eyed gaze glanced at the floor, then back to me. Steadily, he reached out his hand and caressed my cheek, causing my body to instinctually petrify from pure fear.
"You brave foolish girl. His blood is on your hands, so let this be your penance."
Suddenly, the overhead lights came on and I was in a white room. The floor was a dark burgundy, and as I lifted up my foot once more, I saw the bottom was covered in dark sticky blood. I looked at horrified, and yelped as I fell down, my hands and legs covered in the substance. I crawled backwards from the man as he looked at me with an ominous gleam in his eye. I looked to the right of me and saw my father on the side of me, laying face down and was perfectly still.
I quickly looked away, horrified at the image, and struggled to get up, and kept falling back into the red sticky liquid. I felt myself gagging at the sight. It was my worst nightmare.
"No, no it isn't! I didn't do anything wrong! It was just his time." I heard the man chuckle as my panic became evident. "Or so they tell you..."
I ignored him as I hastily tried wipe the blood of my father off of me, but it only smeared further. I started to hyperventilate, when the man calmly walked over and knelt down in front of me, unbothered that his white clothes were getting stained red.
Then as fast as a viper, he snatched my chin, his nails digging into my skin. I cried out and tried to jerk myself away, but his grip was that of steel. He pulled my face dangerously close to his, and I could feel his breath on me. I averted my gaze, when he snapped. "Look at me!"
I slowly let my eyes meet his and his face became wickedly happy as if my fear was giving him power. "This is only the beginning, Bonnie." With that said, he put his forehead against my own, with me closing my eyes praying my hurt would be over.
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I woke up the next morning to a car horn honking and in a cold sweat. I didn't realize it, but I fell asleep crying and spent the night on Dad's bed. I ignored the horn blaring outside, and pulled the covers over me. "Go away." I mumbled as I sniffed the blankets, the familiarity of their scent comforting me. I just wanted to sleep.
When I heard knocking, I felt anger surge through me. "What do you want?! I SAID GO AWAY!" I threw the covers off of me and stormed over to the door.
I swung it open and standing in front of me was Jonathan Byers.
I blinked as he stared at my pink Care Bear pajamas and disheveled appearance. "Oh...Hey." I said quietly. Jonathan put his hands in his pockets and said, "Hey, Bonnie...I heard about what happened. You know, small town and all...I just wanted to say...I'm sorry...I know how much you loved him...how are you holding up?"
"My Dad is gone and Will is still missing. How do you think I'm doing?" I stated bluntly, my voice sounding hoarse from all the sobbing I did last night.
Without a single word, he grabbed me by my top and pulled me into him. "What are you doing?" My voice was muffled into his chest. In his usual low soft voice, Jonathan said, "I was once told that by a special someone that 'If it was me and my family who were going through a hard time, something small could go a long way.'"
I stayed still. I wasn't expecting this, and certainly not from Jonathan Byers. I was touched, and I put my arms around him, and let Jonathan hold me for a moment.
Sniffing, I let go of him and gave a sad sort of smile. "Did you have to honk your horn, though?"
Jonathan gave out a short laugh and replied, "I honked because I tried calling out to you and you weren't answering. I've been blasting that horn for about ten minutes now." That made me roll my eyes, and I said, "Why don't you come in? You're letting the heat out."
Jonathan and I stepped inside and I shut the door behind us. Rubbing my hands together to get them warm, I looked up at Jonathan and said, "Do you want anything to eat or drink? We have coffee and hot chocolate." Jonathan looked around and shook his head. "I'm okay." After a beat, I asked, "How is your mom holding up?"
Jonathan shrugged. "About as good as she's able to, but I don't want to talk about that. Are you coming to school today?"
I looked around me. "I don't know if I should..." I pointed down to my ankle. "I sprained it yesterday." I ran my hand through my curly tangled hair. "I don't know if I want to be at school with everybody staring at me, and giving me false sympathy, especially from people like Steve Harrington, who never cared in the first place. I really don't think I can handle that stress right now." Jonathan nodded and replied in his usual soft voice, "Yeah, I understand how that can be."
The tall quiet boy looked around and then said, "Well, I came to offer you a ride to school. But it looks like you insist on staying home."
I crossed my arms mumbled, "Yeah, I do."
"Okay..." Jonathan awkwardly stood there, and then he said, "Well, I have to go. Don't want to be late." He gave me a pat on the shoulder, and then left without another word.
Perhaps I had been wrong about my relationship with Jonathan. Maybe we were friends, and I was too stupid to see it?
I sighed and went to the kitchen to heat up some milk for hot chocolate. I went and got out the cloves, cinnamon, and chili pepper that I put in with the chocolate. As I started to put the mixture together, I heard the phone ring.
Knowing this time I couldn't ignore it, I reluctantly went and picked it up. "Hello?"
"Míja it's me. I know you most likely want to stay home from school today, and that's alright, but I need you to get dressed in twenty minutes."
"Why?" I deadpanned. I wasn't in the mood to go out. I just wanted my hot chocolate and to go back to bed.
"We have to go to the morgue. We have to talk to the funeral director. We have errands to do today." That was was the last thing I needed. I didn't want to get dressed and be forced all over town planning a funeral. I wanted to be here, in my sanctuary away from the world.
"No, Mama. I just want to stay home. Can't you do it?" I pleaded, hoping she would here the desperation in my voice.
"Bonnie, I'm not next of kin, you are. Unfortunately, you have to come along with me." I put my forehead against the wall and shut my eyes, a massive headache starting to form.
Of course. Nana died years ago before my parents got a divorce and my grandfather died before I was born. Dad was an only child, so that left me. I knew I would have to do this eventually, but I didn't expect it to happen so soon. I also knew, despite the pain of my loss, I had to do this for him. I couldn't let him sit in a place like a morgue for another day. He deserved better than that.
"Fine...Come get me in an hour." Not in the mood for an argument, I hung up the phone. A whiff of aromatic spices came from the kitchen, and I went back to making my hot chocolate. I poured the mixture in a wide yellow mug and in Dad's mug that said "Fred's Tackle Shop". Whenever I made hot chocolate, he would always want some, so I left his mug at his place at the table for him. I went back to Dad's room where I laid down for a while after finishing my drink.
How do you say goodbye to the one you love? How does someone go about doing that?
When Nana died, I was sad and I cried, of course. But her death didn't hit me as hard as my father's did...
I got up and got dressed in a pair of jeans and a black floral blouse. I braided my hair and put on a thick grey wool jacket and black boots. Grabbing my keys, I waited outside of the house until Mom pulled up in her car.
When she did, I limped over to my car and got in. I felt like my injury was worse today than it was yesterday, but I ignored it. Mom saw me limping and said, "What happened?"
"I think I sprained my ankle yesterday." I told her as I buckled up. Mom sighed and changed the subject, "You know, Mr. Wilkins called today."
Mr. Wilkins? Who was that?
"Who?" I questioned as she started to drive forward. "The solicitor for your Dad's will. He wants to meet with us soon. It seems like he may have left a lot to us."
My Dad's will? Us? What did she mean "Us"?
I scoffed as I felt irritation irk me, but I didn't want to let it show. How could my mother bring that up? It felt like my father was barely cold, yet she was so callously mentioning meeting with a lawyer to sort out my father's things as if she was a vulture ready for the pickings.
I felt reviled.
"Maybe sometime later...what's our first thing to do?"
Mom glanced at me and then said in a gentle voice, "You have to go identify the body. "
"Excuse me?!" I exclaimed, turning to her. "I have to do the WHAT?! I thought when we went to the morgue, we were going to plan the funeral, not this!"
I shook my head ferociously and crossed my arms. "No. I'm not doing that. You want to do the errands, you can do that. I will not look at his- at his..." I couldn't even get the words out.
My mom reached over and stroked my upper arm. "I know this is hard, but you are next of kin. You have to do this."
"No! I'm not eighteen yet, so don't they have some sort of law against this? I don't want to see him. You said funeral arrangements! You said nothing about body identification!" My voice started to raise and my mom stopped the car in the middle of the road. She put it in brake and glared over at me.
"Now, you listen here, and you listen good. Do you think I want to do this either?" She demanded.
"No, I don't, because I know you didn't give a shit about Daddy. You're glad he's not around anymore. It's obvious you don't care that he's gone! You just care about his money!"
My head was turned to the side as I felt the force of my mother's slap. I held my stinging cheek as I turned to see my Mom seething at me.
"Listen here, you little shit. I cared about your father, I did. But there are reasons about why we didn't work out that you don't need to know. All you need to know is that I did love him. I left my life, my parents, my siblings, and my school to be with a man who didn't appreciate me. I left for you and for him. But things didn't work out, and that's fine. I can live with that. What I can't live with, is my only daughter talking to me as if she's my equal." My mother huffed as she finished her rapid Spanish and leaned over towards me, causing me to flinch and lean back against my car door.
"I don't care about the money, or the house, or that stupid restaurant. I'm sorry he's gone. I know it's hard, and it's going to get harder as time moves on, and I will be here for you. But you need to remember that I am your mother, not your friend. You will not talk to me with disrespect and you will do what I say until the day you leave for college, hell, even after then. Just because you grow up, I don't stop being your mother. ¿Entiendes?"
I stared at her in shock. My father and mother had very different parenting styles. Even though I had grown up with it, it was always jarring to have her yell and lay her hands on me like this, compared to how Dad was.
Daddy, despite looking like a tall tough guy, was a gentle giant and only ever yelled at me if I got myself into actual danger, like when I was trying to sharpen a knife when I was eleven. I had cut my hand and bled all over the kitchen, and he was extremely angry at me, but only because I had hurt myself and wasn't aware of the danger that such a seemingly simple task posed. He took one look at my hand after he was done yelling and asked, "Are you going to do that again?" I remember whimpering and telling him no. After getting five stitches, he taught me how to properly sharpen knives with a whetstone.
Mom, on the other hand, was very much into yelling and giving out the occasional spanking if she felt that I needed it. But she's never slapped me before. Never.
I was snapped out of my thoughts as she growled out, "¿Entiendes?", to which I hastily nodded so I wouldn't further upset her.
I was regretting not going to school. I would have rather put up with Steve Harrington and his posse than with my Mom and her temper.
I was silent the rest of the car ride, and when we pulled into the morgue, I all but sprinted out of the vehicle, sprained ankle and everything. I quickly went inside, not even waiting for my mother and saw the receptionist inside, who jumped up at my sudden intrusion. She was a young thing, not much older than twenty. She had blond hair and looks that could have rivaled Farrah Fawcett. She was out of place here at the morgue in Hawkins when she could have easily been a model out in New York or California.
I noticed the name placard on her desk read "Stacey Hodgkins". "Hello?", she asked uncertainly, looking at me as I had five grown heads.
I went up to her desk and said, "I'm here for my Dad. Benny Hammond."
The woman gave me a sympathetic red-lipped smile and said, "Oh, of course. We've been expecting you. Why don't you take a seat and we'll call you when we're ready?"
Just then my mother came in, looking angry and muttering under her breath. She looked at me and then the receptionist, then said, "Well? Did you ask to see him." Before I could answer, Stacey's curt voice cut through the air and said, "As I explained, Ma'am, that you may take a seat. We'll call you when you're ready." My mom narrowed her eyes at the woman, but did what she said.
The waiting area was empty, so there were plenty of chairs to choose from. My mom sat in one, and I sat in another that was one chair away from her. I let that chair be a small physical barrier between us. I didn't want to look at her, much less be near her, but knowing my mother, had I sat in a chair on the other side of the room, it would have made her angrier. She would've never let me live it down, probably saying something like, "I don't know why you're so angry, you don't have any reason to be."
I just wanted it to be over. My sleep last night was restless...and disturbing. I couldn't help but notice an omnipresent feeling come over me, as if the malevolent man from my dreams was watching me every move. I shifted my eyes around the room, and let out a breath of relief to see it was just me, my Mom, and Stacey.
The phone at the front desk started to ring, and Stacey the Receptionist took the call.
"Hello, Hawkins Mortarium, may I ask who's-oh. Yes. Okay, will do sir." Stacey hung up the phone and said to us, "They're ready to see you now. Go down the hall and to your left."
Mom and I got up, and went went forward, going past the desk into the back. We followed the instructions given to us, and as we approached a large rectangular glass window, my mother grabbed my hand and held it tight. "It'll be okay." She whispered as we came to a stop in front of the window.
I didn't want her touching me, let alone giving me comfort, but she was the only one I had at the moment. I hesitantly gave her hand a squeeze of reassurance. The mortician, dressed head to toe in green scrubs, came out on the other side of the window and said, "Are you here for the body of Benjamin Alexander Hammond III?"
I felt my voice weaken as I said out loud. "Yes. I'm his daughter."
The man got a clipboard off of the wall and wrote something down. He put it back and went to the metal slab where the covered body was. He lifted up the sheet and I saw him.
It was my father, dead.
I couldn't stop staring at the man who raised me, who was always glowing of happiness and joy, now reduced to a pale corpse with the life snuffed out of him.
His arms laid still on his sides, covered in the same marks that mine were, the marks of being in a kitchen for many years. Those arms that taught me to chop, sear, fillet, butcher, sautée, julienne, and mince would never hold me again. They would never be wrapped around me when I would have a bad day or when I would have doubt in myself and my capabilities.
His mouth was closed shut, and I yearned to hear his voice, the voice of comfort, which I knew I would never hear again. I wanted to hear it just one more time, if only to say goodbye.
He was gone.
As simple as that.
And I was all alone, with no one else who could understand me, not the way he could.
"When did he die?" My Mom asked out loud interrupting my thoughts. I wiped my eyes, not even realizing that I was crying.
"We're determined he died somewhere between the night before last to yesterday morning, though it is a bit unclear." How could that be? I saw him just the other night. He was alive and thriving, unlike now...
That's when I noticed it, on the side of his head. A hole that was not supposed to be there.
"What the hell is that?" I heard myself saying out loud. My mom and the mortician looked at me oddly as I pointed to my father's head.
"Wh-what did you do to his head?" I asked him angrily.
"He died of a self-inflicted gunshot wound, Miss. I assumed you knew..."
Have you ever been punched in the stomach? Hurt to the point where you can't even let out a breath?
That's what it felt like.
I let go of my mother's hand as my knees gave out and I struggled to breathe, while my Mom gave out a cry of anguish. I looked up to see she was making the sign of the cross, like the devout Catholic she is, and start to immediately murmur a prayer.
Suicide? My father?
It didn't make sense. He didn't have PTSD like other Vietnam veterans, or at least not too severely. He only had the one gun, and as far as I knew that was at the house under the bed where he had left it. We weren't struggling financially, and no one significant died recently.
I knew he wasn't depressed because I was the one who organized the cabinets at the house, and the only medicines he took were for heartburn, and the occasional Pepto-Bismal.
Most importantly I remembered what Eddie said, "Don't think for a second that it was. Not for a goddamn second."
He was right.
Daddy would never have left me if it was his choice, and no one knew that truth better than me. The puzzle pieces weren't fitting, and I wanted to know why.
"No."
My Mom stopped praying and she looked at me as I regained my breath and narrowed my eyes at the man. "No, this isn't possible. My Dad would never have killed himself. That's not him. He wasn't depressed or suicidal, and if he was, he would have gotten help."
The mortician gave me an annoyed glare and said, "Young Lady, there was a gunshot wound to his head. He was found with the gun in hand. Now, I know this is difficult to come to terms with, but I've seen good men take their lives for a myriad of reasons."
I knew that was bullshit. I saw Dad's gun last night, in a box, under his bed. He didn't have any other ones, because he would have told me. So for him to shoot himself? It didn't add up.
My hands balled into fists and I replied, "My father is not most men. This is selfish, and he would never have left me, because he wasn't a selfish person. This is wrong!"
With that, I turned heel and started to walk away as fast as I could, despite my ankle hurting me. My Mom trailed after me and grabbed my arm. "Where do you think you're going?"
"¡No me toques!" I snapped. "Don't fucking touch me." My Mom stood there shocked as I turned around and left the morgue. I was mildly surprised that I wasn't hit right then and there.
I went through the lobby where I could hear Stacey calling me from behind her desk. "Miss! Miss, wait! You have to sign some papers!"
I didn't give a shit. None of it made sense.
Then, another important piece of the puzzle I had forgotten about came to mind: the girl. The runaway girl Dad found in his restaurant. It seemed almost entirely too coincidental that she would appear around the same time he would pass on. And then to say he left me because of something like suicide?
No, I didn't buy that.
I had to find that girl, because if anyone was going to know what happened to my Dad, it would be her. I stopped walking and looked up at the sky. "I'm gonna find out the truth, Dad. And you can bet your ass I'll be relentless about it." I looked ahead and walked until I found a stretch of woods.
I knew if I cut through here, I'd be able to find my way back to the restaurant. I still had my keys for there, and it was the best place to start.
I entered into the forest, my thoughts keeping me company. I was no longer sad. I was pissed off. Somebody was definitely lying, and I would go to my grave trying to find out who. My ankle was screaming at me to stop and rest, but my determination fueled me as I kept moving.
I don't what happened at this next moment though, if it was my blood pressure spiking from anger or perhaps the wounds weren't closed properly, but I started to bleed from the scratches on my face.
I paused and wiped off the blood and sweat, before continuing on my way. As I moved forward a couple paces, I heard an odd noise, unlike anything I had ever seen, and it was stepping on branches as I heard it come close to me.
From a distance, I could see what looked like a naked man coming towards me really fast. He was pale white with long nails, that looked like claws. That's when I noticed his eyes-they weren't there. His face opened up like a flower in bloom, except there were rows of razor sharp teeth on each petal.
What in the actual fuck was that thing?
My instincts to run kicked in, and despite my ankle hurting like hell, I sprinted as fast I could.
I could hear it running after me. I knew when encounting a mountain lion you can't run away or they'll pounce, and that the safest thing to do is never take your eyes off it and try to scare it off. Well, this wasn't a mountain lion, and yes, I am aware that running possibly put me in more danger, but I trusted my gut when it came to wilderness, and it never let me down.
I ran as fast as I could, my arms pumping, my legs pounding the ground, my entire body high off of the adrenaline from the chase. It was probably that same adrenaline that saved my life that day, because I never ran faster in my life.
That's when it came into the clearing, the restaurant, and there were cop cars there, probably doing some aftermath inspections of the property from yesterday. One of the policemen, a young man with brown hair and glasses, was scribbling something on a notepad, looking like he was about ready to get in the car and leave.
"HELP!" I bellowed out, not pausing even for a second. The officer stopped and looked up at me and I ran faster to close the distance between us. I ran up to him and nearly collapsed at his feet, crying out, "Please! Help me! There's a man chasing me." The police officer asked, "What?" and didn't do anything.
Another officer was exiting out of the building, and I immediately recognized him as Calvin Powell, the man I would usually give the baked goods to on Mondays for the police station if Sheriff Hopper wasn't around to recieve them.
I shoved the other guy away (to which he responded with a "Hey!") and ran to Officer Powell. "Please!", I panted, "please help me. Th-there's a man chasing me. He's in the forest. Please!"
Officer Powell seemed surprised to see me there and took me by my shoulder to the cop car.
"Bonnie? Sweetie, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at school or at home? This is not the place you should be at right now." I slapped his hand away.
"PLEASE! YOU'RE NOT LISTENING TO ME! THERE WAS A MAN CHASING ME IN THE FOREST! HE WANTED TO HURT ME! PLEASE!" I think he could hear the urgent pleading in my voice and the fear in my eyes, because Officer Powell said, "Phil, keep her close. I'm going to check this out."
Officer Powell took out his gun and held it up as he entered the thicket of the forest. After what seemed like a tense moment, I heard his voice call out, "Is anybody out there?! Come out with your hands in the air!"
There was a very long pause, and then silence. After about ten minutes, Officer Powell came out of the woods, putting his gun away. He gave me a concerned look and said, "Bonnie, child, why don't you sit down." He gestured to the hood of their car.
Shakily, I nodded as he led me to sit down and he sat beside me. "Bonnie, I didn't see anyone out there. Are you sure you saw someone?"
"Yes", I nodded, "It was some freaky pervert! He was naked and tall and pale and wearing a scary Halloween mask or something. Please! You know I wouldn't lie!"
I could still feel myself shaking from the adrenaline. I knew I couldn't outright say 'I saw a devious creature in the forest!', because no one would believe me. I had to say it was a man, but more importantly, what was that thing? Because I knew damn well it wasn't human.
"What are you doing out here in the first place?" Officer Powell questioned me. It wasn't interrogative, and he spoke it as gently as he could.
I twiddled with my thumbs and muttered, "I had to take the day off...I had to identify Dad and talk about funeral arrangements. I left because...I couldn't stand to see him like that..." There was beat of silence.
Officer Powell contemplated what I had just said before he took off his hat and rubbed the back of his head. "Listen...I know things are really rough for you, and I don't doubt that you saw someone out there. But, grief, it was a strong impact and I don't want to see you get consumed by it. So, how about this. Come by the station with us, we'll make a report to ease your mind, and then one of us will drop you off back at home." He must have seen my absolute disbelief because he quickly added, "Bonnie, there was nothing out there, save for the occasional squirrel. Trust me, you're safe. I'm not sure we'll find anyone out there, but if it helps, we'll make a report."
I looked at the diner, then at Officer Powell. I knew that if I went with him, it would be a while before I would be able to come back here, but I also knew that I couldn't get to the bottom of the discrepancies behind my Dad's passing if I wasn't alive. And staying behind, alone at the restaurant, was not the wisest choice.
I had to be smart.
Judging by what my Dad taught me throughout all these years about wild animals, that thing was ready for the kill, and it would have done so, had I not booked it out of there like a bat out of hell.
Solemnly, I nodded. "Let's go make the report, please...just...get me out of here..."
Officer Powell gave me a kind smile and said, "Okay." He put his hat back on and stood up to go open the side door of the car. I carefully slid off the hood (my ankle now swelling, though I didn't tell the two officers that) and I got in. As I was sliding in, the other officer with glasses was about to say something to me, but Officer Powell held up one finger and said, "Not a damn word, Phil."
He slammed my door shut and sat inside. The other officer got behind the wheel and turned around to say, "Hey, why don't we turn the lights on? All the kids love that!" in an attempt to make me feel better, though it came off like he was speaking to a five year old, rather than a teenage girl who was just running for her life.
If I'm being totally honest here, I would definitely be the type of person to actually be excited to get to ride in the back of a cop car with the lights on (granted if I wasn't actually being arrested), but I was nearly chased and killed by some horrible thing out there, so the amusement of cop car lights didn't have the usual effect on me.
I gave a soft, "Yeah.." and then Officer Powell said, "Hey, that's the spirit!" He flicked a switch and I could hear the car do a "whoop-whoop" from the siren and see the red and blue lights reflect on the black pavement of the street as we drove away from the restaurant.
Now on top of Will Byers missing, my father gone, my Mother's hurtful actions, school, and that missing runaway girl, I had to also get chased by a demon in the forest.
Was I going crazy, or had that actually happened?
Maybe the stress of everything was causing me to hallucinate, but it felt so real. It looked real...but maybe Officer Powell was right, and I was in danger of letting my grief consume me.
Either way, I was not prepared for the shit to hit the fan that night.
That's chapter three! :D Let me know what you think! I love reading your reviews and I will do my best to respond to each of them! They were all so thoughtful and nice, it made me happy to read each of them.