𝐋𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 -𝐋.𝐒

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐄𝐥 <11>

"STEVE HARRINGTON GET DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW."

Jennifer Harrington, was not a scary woman. She was the type of person to kiss you and smother you with love if you made a mistake. Not the type to scold and shame you much like her husband would. She was different.

However, Steve swore he had never heard his mother so angry in his life.

"Now!"

Obviously, he knew his Mom would find out about the fight. The cops knew who Steve was, he had caused enough trouble over the years to be a familiar face- it was a small town after all.

He just didn't think she'd find out so quickly. He had planned to spend the rest of the afternoon locked up in his room hiding from his parents. He didn't want them to ask anyone questions about where he was or what happened to his face.

"What's wrong?" He answered, walking into the kitchen burying his face away from the spotlight.

"What's wrong?" She scoffed. "When were you going to tell me about Johnathan Byers?"

"What about . . . Johnathan Byers?"

"Don't play stupid, Steve." She laughed angrily. "I heard all about your little dispute."

"It was nothing."

"I hardly think it was nothing. I don't think the Cops would get involved if it was just, nothing."

Steve winced lifting his head up to look at his mother. It seemed as if he had forgotten about the large purple mark which was currently throbbing on his eye.

"What happened to your face?" Jennifer asked firmly.

Steve caught on to what she was talking about and quickly turned his head back down. "Nothing."

"Look at me."

He didn't move.

"Look at me!"

Taking a good look at his face was enough for Jennifer to decide that the fight wasn't just nothing. It was serious. Fights usually never were nothing. There was always an alternate reason behind them.

"That isn't just nothing, Steve!" She argued as she inspected the bruise thoroughly."Don't you think I'm worried enough as it is with Alice missing? I don't have time to sit and babysit your every move. You're seventeen years old, so start acting like it!"

"I'm sorry, okay?" Steve stuttered. "I didn't mean for this to happen!"

"Go to your room."

"Just let me explain-"

"Steve. I said go to your room."

"Just listen to me, okay-"

"I'll listen to you when you finally listen to me. This isn't some sort of high school fight anymore, Steve. The cops are involved. It's not just a case of moving on and forgetting about it . . . People- people talk. And if your father finds out-"

"Not everything revolves around having the perfect family! Why can't you just listen to me and quit thinking about your 'perfect' image for once in your god damn life."

"Don't talk to me like that. I'm trying to protect you-"

"I don't need your protection, Mom."

"If you don't need my protection then fine, deal with it yourself."

Steve didn't stick around his mother long after the argument was over. He didn't want to hear her drag the argument out anymore, but he also didn't particularly want to stick around the house either. He was rather worried that at some point he'd bump into his father.