/ "and i have to speculate that god himself did make us into corresponding shapes like puzzle pieces from the clay" /
Michelle "Mickey" Hopper has a lot of problems. An alcoholic father ignoring the loss of his youngest daughter, her sister, Sarah...
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...Friday, November 11, 1983... we walk - r.e.m.
"Mickey!" Nancy yelled through the dark, endless woods. Her family's baseball bat hung at her side, seeming silly now that they believed it would be enough to protect them from whatever fate befell their friend.
But still, Jonathan screamed, "Mickey!" Her bag hung heavily from his shoulder.
In another dark, endless wood, visually identical to the first save for a sticky, indescribable covering, Mickey ran through these very woods, frantically returning her friends' yells. "Nancy! Jonathan! Someone, please! Please help me!" Her voice only echoed back to her, and the hollow sound of her friends' detached voices.
For a moment, it seemed there was light at the end of the tunnel as Nancy and Jonathan stood together, getting Mickey to follow their voices. Then, the lost blonde was startled by the sickly man without a face looking for her as dutifully as her partners in crime.
Nancy and Jonathan gave up on waiting for Mickey to come to them, instead following her terrified shrieks. Eventually, they stumbled upon a hole opening itself amongst the forest.
On the other side, Mickey was pressed up against the slimy bark of tree. She could hear the chirps of the creature only feet away from her. So, she pressed her hand up against her mouth, slowed her breathing, and kept her whimpers to herself as hot tears weaved down her pale cheeks. For a moment, Mickey was convinced it was the last bit of warmth she would ever feel. That and possibly the spilling of warm blood when the creature eventually discovered her.
Then, she heard something. Not the calls of the monster, but the warm tone of Jonathan Byers. "Mickey, follow my voice!" She turned her head and, in the base of the next tree over, there was a passage just like the one that led her here. And she could hear Jonathan and Nancy through it.
She took one final look back at the distracted beast before making a run for the opening. Moments later, Mickey's hand broke through the other side. "Help me, please!" she sobbed.
Jonathan and Nancy didn't hesitate to grab on to her outstretched arm and anchor themselves to the ground, pulling with all of their strength until her head stretched through the sticky barrier, slime coating her entire body.
She collapsed down on top of the teenagers who were thrown back against each other. But this warmth suddenly felt foreign and she pushed herself away. Mickey shifted across the layer of dead leaves until she was far from either of her compatriots. And only then did the body-wracking sobs take her over.
...
Mickey stood under the constant flow of the Wheelers' showerhead. The water was warm, maybe too warm. Her father would always scold her for her boiling hot showers, using up all the water heater's capabilities in five minutes flat. But now, it felt gratuitous. She didn't crave heat the way she used to. So, despite her mud caked figure, the shower was short and lukewarm.
