sparks | henry creel

012

Now I know what you're thinking.
I've known this guy for less than a week.
But when he finished telling me his story,
My heart was hurting.

Maybe it's because of all the torture on kids - on how he was being tortured, the boy I'm sitting with now. Or maybe it's because he was telling me how his foster "parents" were selfish and conceited, and borderline abusive for kicking him out during WINTER in Indiana.

But I was angry. More angry than I should be for only being friends for a short amount of time. Maybe I was wrong all along about me being a bad person.

"Heather?" He asks, shaking me out of my thoughts. I look at him and look into his blue eyes, and i have a feeling if I look far enough I'd see a boy with a lot of guilt and shame for doing what he had to do to survive. "You didn't explain why you were put in there," I point out. He was quiet for a second.
"I told you. They captured me in broad daylight."
"How does this align with your dad going on a rampage and killing your sister and mot-"

"It doesn't." He interrupts me coldly, as if not wanting to have that conversation right now.

Of course he doesn't want to have that conversation right now. In fact he probably never wants to have that conversation with you.

"How in the hell did you even find out about that in the first place? Does anyone else in the group know?" He asks, clenching his hands into fists. I take it he never wanted me to find out, even if our friendship will last a while.

"No, no one else in the group knows. Besides Eddie." I add on, and I'm completely aware I ignored the first question.
"Oh, so that explains why he was looking at me like I was a freak. Thanks, Heather." He looks down at the withering fire, that's moments away from disappearing from the wind.

"What, you think I told him? You think of all the people, I'd tell him? He's obsessed with wizards and demons and shit, he plays Dungeons and dragons for Christs sake. He found it out on his own." I scoff, standing up. "Where are you going?" He asks. "Home, it's getting late."

"Please don't tell me you're upset at me because I didn't want you knowing my father is a murderer."

"I'm not upset at you, Henry. Can we please go home now?" I hold out my arm, hoping he'd grab my hand to calm down. His stupid but charming one eyebrow raised look lowers down to my hand and he sighs before taking it. "Thank you," is all I say.

Wait. He didn't tell me why he was so terrified back in family video. "So how does all of this align with why you had a panic attack back in the store?

"That wasn't a panic attack. One of the side effects that come with being tortured and experimented on is trauma. Unfortunately since is the eighties and a lot of things are left unheard and unseen of, not a lot of people have a name for it. I see things that aren't there, basically."
Their wasn't much light on the train tracks, though I could tell where we were going from remember times with Max, Dustin, Lucas and Steve, where we'd all be walking on them late at night, trying to figure out how in hell to save Earth, because we all thought it was ending.

"How long have you lived here?" He asks, I guess not liking the silence, and having to listen to the creepy noises you hear in the forest at night. "Pretty much my entire life. My grandma's house? Around three years. After my grandpa died she needed help, and it just so happens to be around that time my mom started spiraling out of control." I say, feeling akward afterwards, as If I've said too much.

I guess he didn't feel that way though. "And you've known the others your entire life?"

I shake my head. "No no. I went to a different elementary school and it wasn't until mid first year of middle school that I transferred to Hawkins Middle."
He looks as if he's writing all of this down in his head; as if he actually cares about any of what I'm saying.

At around twenty minutes after ten we arrived back home. We were both pretty exhausted and he decided to take a shower, because like he told me, no matter what time he falls asleep he'll always wake up at the same time - six am. Even on the weekends.

I was laying on my bed when he called out from the bathroom. The water had just turned off. "Hey Heather, uh yeah I don't have any clothes."I hear a small chuckle come from him.

I slap my forehead. Duh, of course he doesn't have any clothes. I sit up, walking over to my dresser. I grab a pair of grey sweatpants and a white T-shirt. "Are you covered?" I ask, getting prepared to cover my eyes. But he says yes. I figured he would mean the towel was wrapped around his entire body, including his chest. So when I stepped into the bathroom and saw him in a towel covering only his waist and below, I nearly fainted.