He Who Controls the Flame (001 fanfic)

Chapter Sixteen- Lemons and Strawberries

I didn't know how long it had been since, but for the first time in what felt like forever, I woke up not feeling like a truck had been rolling over my body over and over again while I slept. Granted, I still felt like shit, but it was better than before.

I rolled over in bed, glancing around the room. The chair beside me was surprisingly empty, and the door across from the bed was left ajar. I sat up, wincing at the way my body ached in response, but saw that the bathroom light wasn't on either, meaning...Peter wasn't in the room. He had left me alone. Had he fallen into a coma? Maybe gotten possessed?

I felt my brows shoot up to my hairline and immediately I was untucking the sheets from around my body. Either way, I wasn't complaining. As I was hauling myself out of bed, I paused. I didn't remember having so many blankets on me before. I groaned, dropping my forehead into my knees, resisting the urge to scream into them.

Peter was becoming very hard to hate when he put extra blankets on me in the middle of the night.

I got to one foot, wincing at the throbbing cuts at my sole and heal. They had been healing nicely ever since Peter had cleaned them, but it still hurt like hell. But that was what I got for running around barefoot. I didn't even do that when I was a kid. My father never really let me play outside, and when I did, it was with loads of sunscreen and I couldn't go any further than earshot. So really...it was a wonderful childhood. Which was why I gravitated towards painting and reading erotica...exercise of the mind.

I hobbled on one foot towards the balcony, wincing at the morning light. Gray clouds were swirling through the sky, the last remnants of the storm from before, but it was still bright to my sleep-addled mind.

I opened the doors and stepped out.

I had taken for granted fresh air. My entire life, I had always had access to it, had treated it like I would always have it. That was one of the many, many shocks I had felt whilst in the lab...wondering if I'd ever be able to breathe fresh air again. The air in the lab had smelt sterile and was almost suffocating. Here...it was anything but.

The balcony was stationed on the second floor, meaning I could look out amongst the branches of the trees, surrounded by the chirping of birds and the rustling of leaves. The woods were thick around us, and I wondered where exactly we were. It was probably far from society considering it was a safe house, but it would make sense to keep it within reach of Hawkins, for supplies, at least.

My hands clenched around the banister, the cold metal cutting into my skin, digging into the wound on my hand from where I had tripped and fell...running from Peter. I glanced over my shoulder at the empty room.

As much as I craved otherwise, he technically was an enemy. He worked for my father, was keeping me here. Would fight to keep me here.

I couldn't trust him. Couldn't play "vacation" with him in this fucking cabin, no matter how tempting.

I looked down at the balcony and then at the tree just inches away from it. I was no skilled climber, hadn't eaten in days, and was still reeling from my cold but...it was worth a shot.

I swung my good leg over the balcony, and balanced on my toes, wishing I had longer legs so I didn't have to hover precariously like an idiot. I then sat down on the railing, swinging my other leg over.

My feet dangled over the edge and I sucked in a breath, the ground underneath me lilting. I had never been a fan of heights either. One time, I had gone with Will and Joyce to some Fourth of July carnival, I had been babysitting Will, and Joyce had come home and offered to take us all, so I went. I had hated the ferris wheel, and the ride that took us all the way up and then dropped us down from like one hundred feet. I had despised the rides, but spending time with the Byers' had made it worth it.