VI

"You said your… name was… Henry…"

His hands rests on his lap, guarding the linen bag, his smile steady.

"That is correct."

"And you lived… here."

He nods slightly as means to encourage her to continue.

"And… here… you murdered your… family."

Henry wrinkles his nose.

"Well, not exactly: my mother and my sister, yes, but I didn't quite manage to murder my father."

"Your father…"

"He is in jail."

Eleven nods. Her follow up, however, takes him by surprise.

"Won't you go… visit him?"

Henry cannot help but smirk. Such a question!

"Excuse me?"

Eleven does not answer. When Henry finally stops laughing, he looks at her and notices her cheeks are a bit flushed.

I've embarrassed her¸ he chastises himself, and suddenly feels a little warmth inside. Eleven, he realizes, is embarrassed because of what he said. It's almost comical, given that moments ago he had just confessed to all kind of terrible deeds. So he decides, in the end, to answer her sincerely.

"Honestly, I hadn't given it any thought. You think old Victor Creel would like me popping out for a visit?"

Eleven shrugs.

"Eleven?" Henry insists, because he doesn't want her to believe he is not taking her seriously either.

"I… don't know… He… He's your… father and…"

Henry tilts his head.

"I'm sure he believes me dead, though. Brenner," he spits the name with disgust, "would have made sure of it."

Not that he really cares. If anything, it was probably better that way. One could even say he owes the doctor that much.

Eleven gathers her hands in a timid gesture. Henry notices her fingers lancing with nerves.

"Maybe… he can… help."

Henry raises an eyebrow. Half seriously, he teases her a bit:

"Oh? You think we need help, Eleven? You don't think I can protect you?"

Eleven shrugs again, her blush quickly coming back.

"You… and I… were… for a long time… a long, long time…"

Henry understands perfectly where her fears are coming from: of course, they both had been practically raised in that godforsaken lab. Even so, Henry is not particularly worried about the prospect of facing the outside world.

Oh, no: it is the outside world that should be worried about him.

Regardless, thinking about his father makes him remember an important detail: his mother's small fortune. The one they had scarcely even touched before the… incident (to call it something). Henry's lips make a very thin line: yes, of course, both he and Eleven could meet all of their needs by simply using their powers… However, how long would it be before the government noticed them? Henry was fully confident in his own skills, yes, but Eleven, even though she had great potential, was but a child yet. Therefore, his scheming mind could not but err on the side of caution: yes, he would of course pile their bodies high, but an armed force, determined enough to stop them, would eventually overwhelm them.

Before leaving the laboratory, Henry had made sure every scrap of information about them was destroyed, but if he now began using his powers to kill or to manipulate people's minds, it was bound to raise suspicions among whoever was investigating the massacre at the Hawkins's National Laboratory. No, they need to be smart and lay low for a good while and wait for things to calm down. With enough time and luck, the case would grow cold, and the people investigating it would move on.

Money would allow them to lay low, and they couldn't just kill to obtain more of it without raising suspicions, so why not appropriate the inheritance that was, after all, rightfully his?

With a plan still forming in his head, Henry decides to be open with her:

"It's ok. I think your idea has merit, Eleven. Tomorrow, I will make sure to pay a visit to my… father." The word leaves a weird taste in his mouth after all these years. "But tonight, we are to spend the night here. You aren't hungry yet, right?"

Eleven only shakes her head.

"Perfect."

He ends the conversation by standing up and offering her his hand.

She hesitates for a moment, but this time Henry does not fear the outcome: Eleven takes his hand firmly.

With a satisfied smile adorning his lips, he leads her upstairs.

And as they go, the door downstairs closes with a screech, as if pushed by an invisible hand.