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𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐇𝐚𝐰𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐬

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𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐇𝐚𝐰𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐬

♥ ♥ ♥
August 7th 1985

Graceland Harrington

"You know the road we didn't take is looking real great right now" My mother groans as we seem to be lost once again.

I turn my head towards Steve and he's giving me the same annoyed look. I can not wait to just get to the house see them unpack their shit and just leave for business once again.

"For people who lived in Hawkins their entire lives, you sure know how to take your time getting there" I mumble under my breath.

"What's that?" My dad says and looks at me through the front mirror. "Nothing" I say with an innocent smile. He huffs and looks at the map again.

"Just because I wanted to take a scenic route doesn't mean anything bad, just stay quiet and enjoy it." He firmly states.

Finally after a few hours we finally see the welcome sign to the town we once lived in.

Welcome to Hawkins...

It's been a year since we had left. Left our friends, school, house. Everything.

Steve and I were furious when our parents told us about the move. We begged them to stay here, it's not like they were ever home anyway, and when they were...They were abusive assholes, who drank and got high with their rich, golfing, perverted friends.

But of course, this last trip would be the longest and they didn't trust us alone. So they dragged us along with them, to Italy. Which wasn't terrible, but still awful.

We were stuck inside most of the time anyway. Our parents wouldn't let us leave our Vila. Ever.

As we pull into the main square of town I see familiar faces making me extremely nauseous.

Even though I begged to come back, something just doesn't sit right being back here.

A few kids on their bikes race past our now slowing car. I turn my gaze back forward and see my dad has parked in front of the convenient store.

I smile knowing exactly who I'd see here and I jump out. "I'm only getting a few things for the house here, so don't even think about asking for anything" our father groans.

I roll my eyes and we walk in.

I look over at the counter and smile when I see Joyce Byers.

His Dreams | Eddie Munson a/uWhere stories live. Discover now