Stranger Things Short Stories

Enzo - Heal The Pain

This wasn't how it was supposed to go. This wasn't how the story was supposed to end. You should be at home now with your family, with this summers events being nothing more than a ghost story you'd tell your children some day. Yet here you were, in a prison, in Russia, being interrogated.

The first few months were the worst, when the Soviet commanders were interrogated you every day for information. Why were you in their base? Whop are you working for? Blah Blah Blah.

You'd been separated form Hopper within minutes of your arrival at Kamchatka, the Russian prison you had both been sent to to serve the 'motherland'. While you were happy to see him alive, the joy was quickly diminished. The factories you were sent to work in were nothing short of painful. They expected you to work like machines, pushing out thousands of stock each day or else facing punishment form the guards. 

A few weeks after you arrival you finally snapped. You noticed one of the guards bullying one of the other girls, making sexist remarks, touching her inappropriately. You couldn't handle it, couldn't bear to watch this unfold in front of you. Angrily, you pulled the guard off her the shock of your confrontation causing him to stumble. You tried to fight him, you really did, but he was much taller and stronger than you and within minutes you'd received a punch to the face and were being dragged back to your cell.

Sat on the slab of stone that was your bed, you cradled your bleeding nose. It was probably broken or at least it certainly felt that way. You couldn't help but fell sorry for yourself. How the hell did you end up here? This literal hell on earth which you were more than likely going to die in. 

The door of you cell swung open with a tremendous screech revealing new guard. He strode towards you causing you to flinch. Normally, most guards are undeterred by such fines of fear, in fact often it spurs them on, like they like the fear trapped in their victims eyes. This guard however faltered at such a sight. He muttered something in Russian before gently pulling your arm to signal that he wanted you to stand.

The strange guard lead you to different room that from the décor you assumed to be sort of medical room. He gestured for you sit on the edge of a rickety little hospital bed before turning to rummage through the draws that lined the wall. Returning, he sat facing you, taking a soaked cloth and wiping the dried blood that surrounded your nose and lower lip.

"You are angry, American" He states, his voice gruff. You didn't know the guards could speak English, actually until now you were convinced that none of them did considering the comical hand gestures they had to make to try and communicate with you.

"Wouldn't you be too, if you were taken from your home?" You responded weakly. You weren't much for conversation any more, you lost that when you lost the will to live.

"Maybe I have been."

The statement left the two of you in silence because what on Earth are you supposed to say to that. The only noises that broke the silence were you wincing every time the cool compress left your injury so the guard could examine the wound. This whole situation was odd. Never before had a guard sat and treated one of your injuries before, especially if they were from provoking someone. You'd seen people with far worse injuries be simply cast to a side and ignored, they were sometimes given even more strenuous jobs just so they could really, really feel the pain.

Either way you couldn't help but admire the guy in front of you. He was, to your surprise, quite attractive. You didn't know whether it was because he was the first person to be nice to you in a long time or because your just so lonely but you certainly wouldn't mind a few more hours alone with this guy.

The way his eyes creased a little in focus as he tended to your wound, how softly is fingers traced your nose, it was enough to make any prisoner swoon. But no you can't get like this because he's your guard and you're a prisoner and finding the guy holding you hostage was just plain stupid and weird. God its like you'd developed Stockholm syndrome or some shit.

"It should be good now." He says standing up to dispose of the various blood-covered items he's been using. You couldn't help but admire him, his tall frame, his slightly muscular body, his hair, his- Nope this is not okay he is the bad guy.

Nonetheless you couldn't help but squeak out a little thank you as he lead you back to your cell. A di9splay that while caused him to laugh (and his laugh was incredible by the way) left you for hours afterwards thinking over and over again on how that was all you could say.

Every time you saw him from that day on he would offer you a little smile. It was these moments you cherished because while you were still trapped, the little gesture was enough to make your heart swell. You even found yourself wishing to get injured again just that he would come to you rescue again.