Every so often, since the day I'd first earned my driver's license, I took joy in taking short trips. Sometimes on my own, and sometimes with another person, but they were always exactly what I needed. Like some kind of breath of fresh air, but for my mind and soul. I was the first to admit that I was easily stressed, especially in recent days, but it was almost as if it was endless right now, and the further I drove from home, the more relaxed I slowly became.
I sat with my foot pressed half hard on the gas, one arm out the open window to my left and my right hand loose on the wheel, and once the large sign welcoming me into Indiana whizzed past me, I hissed out a shaky sigh of growing relief. I'd finally crossed the line to my new life. Sure, I wasn't exactly sure what step came after leaving Norfolk, but the uncertainty hadn't yet stopped me. I'd chosen an uncertain day-to-day life in Hawkins over the likelihood of my own inevitable death in Norfolk. I knew what I was capable of stuck inside my own head, and if I couldn't get rid of the noise in my head, I'd get out of the place where all the noise began.
The long stretch of Hoosier main road set my mind at ease, and once I was sure I could breathe, once I saw the small Hawkins welcome sign breeze past me, I flicked my stereo on and let it play whatever was in the cassette player echo through my Audi Quattro. Madonna, unsurprisingly. Likely from a mix I'd made myself for my last drive, songs recorded from my stereo in my room. I was certain that I seemed like something of a cliche- a young blonde thing driving alone in the like-new 83' model she'd been given by her parents, listening to Madonna at what had to have been top volume in the middle of the night. I was a noise complaint on four newly replaced tires. The self conscious part of me toyed with the idea of fast forwarding to whatever the next song may be, but the part of me that lived and breathe for the flair of dramatics like I was some kind of Andrew Lloyd Webber protege was giving my nervous half the double bird and yelled "FUCK IT" like it was a thing to do.
I was new at this whole runaway concept, too green to realize that you're not meant to draw attention to yourself in the process. So green, in fact, that the hand freely groping at the brisk midnight air jolted back to the wheel when red and blue lights lit up behind my Quattro, a matching siren giving a short whirr targeted at me, and my sleepy green eyes flitted to the speedometer: 60 in a 45. Impressive, I thought to myself, uncovering new ways to get off to terrible starts, like some kind of jaded scientist. My self-loathing followed me all the way to the side of the road as I shakily pulled over and sharply turned the music down to a whisper. I couldn't recall my nerves coming back, but I'd already been on the road for almost a full day. Nearly 12 total hours of driving, only stopping to eat and piss. I was exhausted. Maybe this was a sign. Stop running for like, five fucking minutes.
In my head, I could have sworn that I'd only been pulled to the side of the early autumn road for a few moments, digging into my glove compartment for any kind of identification I could find- whatever it took to keep from getting a ticket on my first day living this new life I'd so bravely and stupidly gone hunting for, but there was already the telltale tap at my window frame, and it gave me such a sudden jump that my wallet leapt from my hand and into the passenger seat next to me. With a sigh, I turned, eyes squinting through the yellow beam of the flashlight that the officer there had been prodding through the dark. I tried to blink away the after images of the light, but as he began to speak to me, I rubbed my eyes a bit, like it was going to fix my stunned vision.
"Not to sound like an ass, but do you know how fast you were going?"
I was admittedly caught off guard by the voice I heard as my eyes tried to blink themselves into some kind of normal vision. I'd been pulled over a number of times in my life, mostly as I was still getting used to driving as a concept. All officers had been roughly my father's age, and admittedly, I had no qualms with turning on the waterworks, if it came down to it. Mom once tried to shame me for it, telling me it was immature of me to try and weasel my way out of consequence, but I always argued that that was the job of a performer, to make the audience believe something that isn't true. But as it were, this audience sounded different, spoke differently. He sounded young, maybe my age, but I still couldn't make out his face. I could see the outline of limbs and hair, but beyond that, I still saw grey and yellow clouds in my vision. His flashlight whipped away from my face as I squinted in disapproval, and I undoubtedly heard him swear at himself.
"Oh, shit, I totally just blinded you- sorry," he said, and the way it came out was with some kind of childlike earnesty, like I could suddenly be the one to get him into trouble. It was... strange. Nothing I'd ever heard from an officer before.
"It's fine, don't worry..." I reassured him, entirely aware of how drowsy my voice sounded. "Yeah, uh... I was tired and messing with the radio so I could stay awake. I guess I didn't realize I was pushing on the gas so hard." One more rub and my eyes focused on his, brown and somewhere between sweet and smug, as if no matter how kind he could ever be (and seriously, I got the feeling that there was an incredible amount of kindness in him), he always desired to be a step ahead at the very least. Those brown eyes laid under what I only dared to call a mane of chestnut hair, like it was a meticulously crafted feature of his that required a daily routine. An almost boyish smile and somewhat lean frame draped in an officer's uniform wrapped up the package. He had to have been my age, without a doubt. No wonder, I thought, only a rookie would manage to get stuck with speeders past midnight.
"Can I see your ID?" he asked, and I simply nodded and slid him the card. He seemed to gleam over it just for a few moments before his eyes fell back on me. "Virginia... don't tell me you've been driving all night?" He folded his arms against the open window of my door, looking me over as if to see how tired I was, but I shrugged a bit, brushing off the concern evident in his voice.
"Is it technically all night if I started driving when it was daylight?" I asked, and was both surprised and relieved when I was met with a laugh instead of a huff of disapproval. Maybe I'd evade a ticket yet.
"Lucy-" he said my name softly, eyes drawn back onto the ID in his hand, and I perked at the sound of my name, like I hadn't heard it in years, "you're a long way from home." His eyes went from the ID, to me, and then to the back seat of my car, and I could pinpoint the moment where his face fell. Half my life was packed up and crammed in the back seats, clothes and personal belongings pouring from bags and boxes. I'd probably almost be able to pass for a traveling college student had it not been for the food and drink packages in a bag next to a pillow and a blanket wrapped up in each other on my passenger side seat. I may as well have had the word RUNAWAY tattooed on my forehead.
He gave me what appeared to be a somewhat sad, worried smile. "Where are you headed?" he asked. "How much farther do you have to go?"
I rubbed the back of my neck, bare from my blonde hair sitting tied up on the back of my head. "Hawkins was my end goal. As far as where..." I let out a short exhale from my nose that somewhat resembled a laugh. "That remains to be seen. Maybe a quiet little parking lot somewhere in this quiet little town so I can look at places." I made sure to say it with confidence, but it was clear that I'd done nothing to ease his concern. His hands laid down on the edge of the window of my car and he leaned back, shaking his head.
"Oh, no, yeah, that's not- that's a no," he stuttered, and I could feel my eyes widen a bit, between confusion and indignance. No? What in the hell would he prefer I did? I was a nineteen year old runaway with no job and just enough money to just barely get by. I had no other options. It was evident that my indignance was clear because he sighed a bit, seemingly softening up again. "Doesn't matter how quiet a parking lot in a quiet town is, no girl should be living out of her car."
I gave him a weak laugh that vibrated from my throat. "Okay, well, there's not a lot I can do, I don't-"
He smacked his hand against the edge of the open window, like he'd come up with a brilliant idea, and it snatched me from my argument. "I'll lead you into town, I know a hotel right in the center of town."
"I can't afford a hotel," I told him, and he gave me a look like lifelong friends can give each other, the kind of look that says stop fucking arguing with me.
"I'll handle it, blondie," he said firmly, and although his tone did come off as pretentious, almost demanding, I saw the soft plead in his eyes. Genuine concern, begging me to stay safe. The way I gave into it was almost reflexive, like the way his eyes fell on me, I couldn't refuse him. With a sigh, I rubbed my face with both hands and looked back at him, glancing for a quick moment at the tag on the front of his shirt.
"Fine... fine, you've got a deal," I said with a weak smile, and this seemed to please him greatly, as I watched his boyish smile grow to a shameless beam as he handed me back my ID. "Thank you, Officer Harrington..."
"Just my job," he said with a smile, and an almost playful wink, and I honestly would have been lying if I tried to say that it didn't make me smile with ease. "And call me Steve." He grins at me, outstretching a somewhat big hand to me, and I shake it, smiling softly.
"Welcome to Hawkins, little miss Lucy Shay."
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