House of the Rising Sun
Now I know how Joan of Arc felt
As the flames rose to her Roman nose
And her walkman started to melt
– The Smiths, Bigmouth Strikes Again
Chapter Two: Do You Want to Know How it Feels?
Alice's head was pounding, and the path seemed to be sliding from under her.
She had been cursed since that wretched day at Starcourt, a walking demon on a hellish path, where even walking was near impossible, her dreams were reddened blood-scapes, memories nests of flesh, and her heart endlessly aching.
The town of Hawkins kept a different sort of memory. It was a heartless, primal place, the acres of forest breathed with ghosts and the people seemed half of who they used to be. No one moved here. This was a town of miserable grey which Alice had not noticed until Billy was gone. Here people did not fill the void in her conversation. This was a place of deep silence and brooding shadows, and Alice did not feel like she was alive at all.
But she knew she would find solace in the basement of Hawkins & Hobgoblins Music Store. Whenever there was silence, there was music to blossom.
Alice had worked at Hawkins & Hobgoblins when it was a comic book store, and stayed when her manager leased it to his son Jeff Myers. He was instrumentally obsessed, and turned the shop into what it was today. Jeff and Alice knew one another, vaguely, from school, and with her being a couple of years older, he was too timid to fire her completely. Alice now worked in the basement, filing records, cassettes, and running the radio.
Alice secured her bike, started wearily limping down the path, when someone called her name.
"Robin," Alice called softly, "hey."
Robin leaned against the door of Family Rental, fixing her uniform. "Johnny Strabler," she said. Her teeth flashing with a smile. "Good morning."
She always had a nickname for her. "Another film?"
Robin looked back inside the store. "Johnny Strabler is the leader of the Black Rebels in a film from 1953 called The Wild One." She looked quite amused with her nickname, crossing her arms proudly. Then the smile slipped slightly. "Didn't you like that one?"
"Uh, it's good," Alice admitted. "You always have good ones."
"And you gonna give me one today?" she pushed. "Go on–give me a nickname."
Alice frowned. "Uh, I don't know, Robin. Today isn't really… I'm not really in the mood."
"I'm gonna give you a nickname every-time I see you until you think of one for me." Robin smiled. The words gave Alice a chill, as they always did. How many days had Robin asked her that? Every day since Alice had come back to work. And Alice couldn't think of one–didn't want to. This was a miserable place, she reflected, and I am a misery here.
"How's your leg? You know, I fell off a pier when I was a kid… broke my arm in seven places. I had to have metal rods in it for a month and, you know, it still hurts sometimes. Even now," Robin said. She swung her arm wildly, brandishing it like a sword.
"O-Oh, I'm sorry about that, Robin."
"It's no biggie," Robin replied, unabashedly studying Alice all over. She could see the red cheeks stained from tears, the dark shadows of mascara and sleepless nights sinking her skin into her skull. Robin had a lot of love for her friends, and she could not deny how painful it was to give love to someone who was emotionally wasting away. It had begun at Starcourt, when Alice had seen Billy murdered, when she fell to her knees, clutching her heart as the Mind Flayer ripped out her brother's. Over a month had passed, the pain was as sharp as the day it was forged. The voice Alice bore turned monotone, empty.
"I, uh, gotta get to work," Alice said grimly. "Lots to do." He swallowed. "Say hello to Steve for me."
"Oh, he'll love that," she laughed.
"Mm." Alice scratched the back of her neck. "And, uh, I'll catch you around."
"You free next Friday night?"
The thought made Alice shudder, and Robin must've seen the dread on her face. "I've got a new job. I'll let you know." She glanced at the music store, the automatic doors sliding open as Jeff stepped out with a cigarette.
Robin's smile was gentle."Whenever you're free, I'll be there. Unless I'm here, then I won't be there."
"Yeah, I'll catch you around whenever."
Robin swung back into the rental store, humming a Western tune. She dashed a video from the shelf and dove over the counter. "The credo is violence… Their God is hate… and they call themselves The Wild Angels!" she announced.
Hot tears filled Alice's eyes. She watched Robin bouncing around the counter, and wished she could see the brightness that her friend saw. It must've been sweet to feel such a colour more than the grey of Alice's world.
Hawkins & Hobgoblins was in full spate. Alice's nostrils flared at the strong smell of incense and marijuana, the suppressed salty chips and takeout pizza. Mixed with it all, the thick coating of lavender air-freshener, so heavy it hung in the air as a white powder.
Her manager, eighteen-year old Jeff, inhaled the remainder of his cigarette then choked, spluttering spit and ash all over the sidewalk.
Alice slowly walked around him, and waved a hand at the stinking scene.
"Morning, to you too, Hargrove," Jeff wheezed.
"Mm," said Alice enthusiastically. "Left a mess in the basement?"
"If you are referring to the blood-splatter of our enemies, the Mages of Orpheus, then yes. Their insides hang from the walls, and their hearts upon spikes."
"Of course." Alice resigned to the permanent twinge in her leg.
The lead-coloured walls shimmered with rows of vinyl records, all of the classics–and Alice had to admit–they had changed her life for the better. The shelves were lined with cassette tapes freshly wound, unpacked and stickered with limited edition signings, and the musician collectors' cards hidden within a lucky few. The aisles were neatly lined with merchandise, mugs and coasters, guitar picks, or above, t-shirts hung from the industrial rafters. Their sales were one-of-a-kind, a space away from the usual convenience stores of Hawkins.
It seemed a peaceful place to work. How could she balance her time here and the Midnight Diner?
Alice picked up the box of deliveries, peeked inside. "Kate Bush. Looks like some limited stickers, too."
At the entrance, where Jeff was watching his twenty-sided dice glistening in the sun, he waved happily to a group of people crossing the car-park, five boys tending to the last slices of pizza from a box. The leader sauntered a little ahead, turning around and brandishing his hands wildly as he spoke, the silver jewellery rattling on his wrists. More distinctive than the rest, his shoulder-length hair, loose and thick, made Alice think he was some Slash wannabe. She wouldn't have paid much notice if not for Dustin Henderson and Mike Wheeler trailing after him.
As she watched the, she was suddenly back at Starcourt Mall. At that moment Alice understood that everything was different, Mike and Dustin had moved on, and she was stuck fearing the Mind Flayer. It seemed to her that she was in a dream, but they had woken up.
"Wanna join the League of Dark Phoenixes, Hargrove?" Jeff guffawed at her.
"Don't you have school, too?" Alice barked from the end of the shop.
Her manager shrugged, "If I don't pass the school year, then I get to stay on."
"And why would you want to do that?"
"Found my people."
An ache grew up Alice's leg. She grimaced. "And what? You've all got a pact to pretend you're eighteen forever?"
"Eddie and Gareth don't pretend they're eighteen." Jeff scoffed, unable to keep his cheeks from turning crimson. "They know they're twenty."
"Who and who?"
That was all he took of her sarcasm. He waved a hand at her as if brushing the words away. "This is the most you've spoke in weeks. What's got you so chatty?"
"Dunno," Alice murmured, and self-consciously she lowered her gaze and started towards the basement.
So to Alice who had not realised she was talking openly, Jeff's voice was a painful and cruel reminder. With a darkening glower, Alice trudged down into the basement; the radio station of Hawkins & Hobgoblins.
It might seem strange that such a store earned enough money, in a town that grew nuclear families like flowerbeds, with its hellish poses of modern bands, unfathomable electric music, and lyrics urging teens to fight the government. Dark, string fairy lights, crimson rugs, wavy tapestries, the basement looked like the hippie dungeon of some festival realm that didn't belong in Hawkins at all.
The basement had been Jeff's creation, a place to stuff Alice and her misery away from happy customers.
Hawkins and Hobgoblins, a single music station sat beneath the tarmac of the town, a growing radio for alternatives. From Heart's love ballads, to the rising Red Hot Chilli Peppers, even Huey Lewis and the News all the way from San Fransisco managed to blast out across all of Hawkins. Of these Alice found she'd rather listen to music, the thumping melody, which seemed to soothe her heart when images of Billy came.
"Start off with a little Blondie, Alice?" Jeff said to her.
Alice nodded, at the circuitboard, she wired up her headphones and plugged in the chime. A guitar-rip followed by the jazzy twang of a bass. Then, she leaned close to the mic: "Good morning, Hawkins! It's 7:43 and the sun is rising on our house of endless classics. We're starting you off with a little heartache from our favourite Blondie."
She hummed with the comms off, and the morning went smoothly. The music each a wonderful and whimsical buzz.
Alice turned and sang quietly, they rhymes that gave her power over pain. Each song louder, fiercer, and thunderous. All at oncee she felt afraid of the noise, so loud and vibrating and bone-rattling. The music surged around her, and she felt suffocated. Alice stepped back and her back hit the shelves. Among the music was a roar, a memory.
"He wants you to come with me," Billy said, "it's always been me and you."
"No, no, no," Alice said aloud, and the memories came to her. They came violently all of them together, making so much sound. Her glossed with the blue, red, and yellow of fireworks.
Alice gasped and shouted out again, telling them to go away. They came closed, crowding and burning around her. Nancy and Jonathan above shouted down, Steve screaming at her and Eleven with her bleeding nose and eyes wailing close. She tried to get free of them and to think of music. The fireworks burst in her ears, and she could only see their sparks.
Then the door opened. In the white sunlight, Robin stomped down the stairs. She flicked the switch, and the booming music was gone entirely, like air sucked from a balloon.
"You hungry?" she said to Alice. "Crouched down there like a little Ewok thing."
Robin took her sleeve. She let Jeff stare after them, and the customers flock to him instead. Midday was chilly and dusky, a breeze, fragrant with tobacco hung in the parking lot. There Robin led them to one of the picnic benches, and looking sidelong at Alice through the tangles of brown hair she asked her what was wrong.
"I don't want to eat lunch with you," Alice said, being clear over the fright the Mind Flayer held on her, and wrenched her arm free.
Robin said to her, "you don't want to eat with me, but I want to eat with you."
"I don't want to."
Robin smiled at her stubbornness. "Poe-tay-toe. Pohe-tah-toe. But you have to sit outside with me. Jeff is stinking of man-sweat, and Steve is threatening to choke me out with his hairspray."
"Fine," said Alice, she wished she could turn up the music, drown again.
She sat still while Robin unwrapped her sandwiches, and took a tasty bite of the cheese and chip concoction, and again sat silently wishing she was back in the basement. Robin began to hum. Her words recalling some action film, and the relay of the entire script went on and on until Alice did not know when she began listening, and all the while Robin watched her expressions to make her smile.
"It's a nice day for a..." she suddenly sang.
Alice could not speak, but she met Robin's eyes.
"White wedding!"
Alice chewed her fingernail and made a face. "That's a good song. Didn't know you had decent taste."
"There we go. Come on, Hargrove, insult me more. The sun is shining, the birds are singing, and we are sat eating lunch."
"I don't know what else to talk about," she said monotonously. "Don't know."
"You know Billy Idol is in the film Demons by Lamberto Bava?" Robin told her. "You might like it. It's about a group of people who go to a screening, and the film is packed full of demons."
Alice raised a brow. "That's kinda ironic, I guess."
"Well, you know, adults go on and on about how films are satanic forms of mind-control harming the brains of youths."
Amused but withdrawn, Alice glanced back at the music shop. "I imagine it's actually all the pot and flour everyone's snorting and smoking." She knew what Jeff and his friends got up to in the late hours. Perhaps Mike and Dustin ought to be warned.
Alice soured. They weren't her brothers. Who cares?
The afternoon was quiet and empty. A lone officer wandered through the vinyl records, his brow raised with discontent at the state of modern youths. Then, he asked Alice to play This Mortal Coil on the radio. Alice sat bored and miserable as she huddled in the basement alone, but she couldn't imagine being elsewhere.
The sound of the closing jingle spilled through the radio in front of her. She was the last one to leave the store. She exhaled, locking up the shop and taking the road toward the Midnight Diner.
Purple dusk bruised the sky, spreading black ink across the horizon. The diner sat alone down a dark road, forests blanketing either side. Alice steered slowly into the parking-lot.
"Nice ride, son," said the officer, as she turned off the engine.
Alice's face darkened at the assumption. She pushed off her helmet and said, "yeah, it is a nice ride."
The officer blubbered a response. He stepped back, and went struggling across the parking lot to his car. Alice sat forlorn and watched him go.
"Watch yourself, Hargrove!" called the officer, and threw himself in the seat where his partner was ready with a laugh.
"Yeah," she said, "whatever, asshole."
They were men she didn't know and certainly not Jim Hopper. He knew when she was riding her bike.
The Midnight Diner sat dripping with rainwater, its neon purple sign and gutter lights glistened. There in the window, groups of police-officers and businessmen sat scoffing their evening dinners.
She recognised some of them and swallowed the bile in her throat, for they'd been there after the Battle of Starcourt. She had spoken to some of the officers, who'd believed it to be a mall fire, and it still trembled her when she recalled how they'd asked where Billy Hargrove was. Alice could not talk, and now, seeing them again, remembered their pity. She glanced up at the horizon almost in fear that the Mind Flayer would crawl over the trees for her; but Hawkins was quiet once again.
She went to the staff entrance, where the Chef came hastening to welcome her and ask what made Susan leave. Alice told him, and at once he flung his tea towel over his shoulder with an understanding nod. "Neil's been struggling, I think," he said, "nothing sweeter than a wife at home to ease the pain."
"He's been down at The Night Owl most nights!" a front-of-house server said, pushing past with a plate of bacon sandwiches. "Susan sure enjoyed working here; shame he wanted her home instead. What's your name, chick?"
"Uh, I'm Alice. Susan is my step-mother."
"Neil said you've some skill with Customer Service and time management, but none with food," the Chef said, scratching his neck..
Alice's face darkened at the idea of Neil speaking on her behalf, but she said, "Yes, I've worked as a shop assistant. Usually pretty busy, especially on weekends."
The Chef gave her a hard look. His eyes lingered on her auburn curls, and went to her brows and cheeks. Alice clenched her teeth. She knew who the Chef was seeing.
"Come along, sweetheart," said the Chef, and took her through the staff-room.
It might seem strange that a young woman, out of education, would adhere to the control of her father, a woman may grow into womanhood choosing to follow her happiness, but so it is.
Child of divorce, step-sister, stranger, loner or lonely, Alice did not know what to call herself. The control of Neil was home, and she could not bear the thought of loosing more.
So to Alice who had never been free to pursue her happiness, the Front-of-House job was just another part of home, the misery and exhaustion were all who she had to be.
With her new uniform on, the Chef made her sign her contract. The Chef was a big man, and sweaty, in a grease-laden chef's shirt. He had a gentle smile, then he asked, "Can you count, sweetheart?"
"I can."
"Can you carry things?"
Alice had to say she could, and with that the chef told her to find an apron and ribbon for her hair.
The main menu was cooking now, the Chef disappeared to oil up the large frying station as orders came rolling in, and the deep-fryer started spitting for supper. There were waitresses hurrying around her, but Alice tightened her uniform as well as she could and presented her notepad.
A waitress came leaping beside her, bustling with energy, while another cook rolled oil barrels thundering out of the stockroom and filled the fryer. Then the waitress showed her the tables, pointing out the hungry customers, who sat examining their menus. The chef roared his prepared orders, and the waitress darted back to take out the plates.
She settled in her place amongst the servers and began. The rush. The setting sun filled the diner and distracted her mood.
The Midnight Diner was hazy with smoke and heavy with the smell of sizzling meat and oiled fries. Its blue tiled walls were plastered with posters. Red, white, blue: American dreams, the dishy waitresses, the strong soldiers. A radio was playing the jazz and sweetening the diners.
It was nearing midnight when the shift came to an end. The Chef left long before closing, leaving the cleaning to the waitresses. In honour of their new employee, the servers permitted her to trying the last pieces of cake before they were thrown away. In the staff-room, Alice didn't throw them away. There was no one to stop her wrapping them up and stuffing them in her bag.
The last of the waitresses to leave with her, showed her how to lock up. She gave Alice a warm smile as she turned the key. Alice did not reciprocate, but there was nothing new in that. After the lights were switched off, the goodbyes were made, then they left the diner.
Alice went to her bike, and did not put her helmet on.
Something rubbed against her foot beneath her bike. Alice saw glowing eyes staring up at her. "Shit," she gasped.
The raccoon scarpered away. Alice clutched her chest, breathing heavily. She revved the engined and let the bike rumble like an angry giant between her legs. The birds in the trees took flight from the savage noise.
Her eyes stung. Alice rubbed at them savagely, her fingers coming away with mascara. She swallowed the bile in her throat and watched the shadows around the parking-lot.
The wind moved between the trees, teasing the darkness. For a moment, a dark cat with round, yellow eyes, blinked at her. She stopped and eased the bike into reverse. She dared the cat to jump out. To reveal itself to be some great beast.
A squirrel interrupted the ghoulish space. Alice straddled the bike with her long legs and stretched her sore thigh before reversing further. "Whatever," she said with a sneer.
Her motorbike was sharp-featured and heavy as a mountain crag, but there was a snicker in its engine. Its black paint was chipped slightly, as befitted a bike only a young person could afford. The wind raked its fingers through her hair. Whether tears or the wind, her eyes watered tremendously, burning her cheeks with salt.
The last road for her to take was a sharp bend, and she leaned deeply into the curve. Her hair scuttled the pavement. Alice wondered what it would feel like for her skin to scrape; would she feel more, be more than she was?
Her road was dimly lit. Her motorbike revved quieter as she eased it onto the drive. Alice glowered unhappily as her gaze landed on her father's bedroom window. She pushed the bike into the garage and ruffled her frizzed, knotted hair.
"You're home late," a familiar voice asked behind her.
Alice gritted her teeth. "Yes," she said, "busy night."
Susan wrapped her dressing gown around her shoulders and smiled softly. "It does get busy," she said after a moment. "How are you feeling? Is your leg hurting?"
Alice frowned.
Susan sighed. "I know this is hard for you. It's so much harder than it needs to be." She opened the door for her.
Her step-mother was gentle-featured and gaunt with stress, but there was always a hint of sweetness in her blue eyes. She dressed in feminine clothing, as befitted a housewife. Tonight she had returned to wearing her hair-curlers, with her gold jewellery in her ears and on her fingers. A golden cross was looped round her neck. Susan watched Alice with a sad pity. "He's asleep," she soothed.
"Great," Alice said. "Thanks for letting me know."
"There is dinner in the microwave for you." Susan gave Alice a long look. "Unless the ladies let you have something?"
"Yeah," Alice answered in a flat voice. "I'm going to just go to bed."
"Okay, sweetheart." Her step-mother glanced up the hallway. "You going to shower before you sleep?"
Alice noticed the mark on the bathroom door. She had learned to be an observer, to study the body language of others. Her father was easy to study, she knew when to get out of the way. It seemed Susan did, too. "He didn't like dinner," Alice said in a low, quiet voice. "I made it with what I had left from the market."
Susan gave Alice a careful, measuring look. "I'll make the food from now on, Alice. You just focus on yourself."
Alice swelled with hurt. "I can do that."
"I'm trying to help you, Alice."
"Don't make me leave," Alice said in a sudden rush. "I have nowhere to go. Dad can't make me go. Please don't make me go."
Susan wrung her hands. "What your Dad says, we do, Alice."
"It doesn't have to be," Alice protested. "I work so hard, and I'm so tired. I can't just be what he wants."
"Life is hard enough for us all," Susan said with a downward twist of her mouth. She took a towel from the cupboard, pressed it into her hands, and smiled.
"You were twenty-four when you left home," Alice said. She knew little of Susan's life before Neil.
"A decision which gave me my beautiful Maxine," her step-mother pointed out. "I was a young woman, you must start to understand."
"I don't care about that!" Alice said hotly.
"You might, if you knew what it means," Susan said. "If you knew what freedom marriage can give you, you might be less eager to stay, sweetheart."
Alice felt anger rise inside of her. "I am not your sweetheart."
Susan stepped back. "If you wish it that way." She smiled sadly. "I'll be up to make breakfast. It'll be pancakes, I think."
Alice trembled. "I will never be married and have children," she said carefully. "Never!" She spat it out like venom.
Suddenly she realised that the floorboards on the other side of the house were creaking. She felt the tears begin to well behind her eyes. She pushed herself past Susan.
"I can't bear any of it," she said with the last of her dignity. She whirled and bolted before Neil could appear. She must have been more tired that she had realised. Her feet got tangled under her as she stepped through the bathroom, and she lurched sideways into the sink and caught the tap so water gushed out. It sprayed over her blouse, and Alice felt hot tears on her cheeks.
She wrenched free of the sink and shoved the door-shut, half-blind. The ache of her leg grew, high into her pelvis.
Alice leaned against the door, resting her forehead to the wood. "I am nothing," she said to herself, in bitter envy; and all the exhaustion of the day darkened for her, after that.
A/N: 7 comments already? And 20 follows! I'm in awe and writing this as quickly as possible before vol. 2 comes out. I have the entire story plotted with extra scenes and moments that aren't included in the show.
Alice is pretty miserable at the moment and moody poor girl i had to listen to sufjan stevens to get in the mood to write her.
Thank you for your support and love for Eddie bc same i've rewatched the scene from game of thrones for Joseph Quinn he's just wonderful
I'm thinking of writing an Enzo fanfic too lol so tempted.
