in your dreams harrington

chapter 6

...

BANG BANG BANG

You jolt up to see your Dad slamming his fist on the car window. He looked like shit.
"You look like shit." You say groggily stumbling out of the back seat. He sighs dragging his fingers down his face.

"Sorry compadre I don't understand. You broke into Hawkins Lab? Why?" You say rubbing your tired eyes.
"Shut up." He says frantically knocking things over and unscrewing lights. Then, he takes a knife to the couch.
"What are you looking for? HEY HEY HEY RELAX-" your Dad sharply turns around putting a finger over his lips. You decided to remain silent. Finally after unscrewing the last light in the house, he pulls out a strange device with wires sticking out every which way.
"This." He says holding it up in the air, and then abruptly dropping it on the ground and stomping it to pieces. "is what I was looking for."
A recording device.

"Will's body, it's a fake. Some kind of crazy doll." He says with and exasperated sigh. "Stuffed with cotton and shit-!"
There's a knock at the door.
"Get behind the counter." He points and you duck.

You hear a couple different voices, familiar, but you can't quite place them from this distance. Then your Dad comes back in laughing.
"Powell and Callahan." He states shaking off the craze of laughter. "Two people missing down at Mirkwood. And state found Barbara Holland's car. State. Found."
You sigh, sliding up the wooden cupboards. You're about to head to the bathroom but you pause.
"There won't be anything recording me while I take a shower right?" You say, and your Dad starts laughing. "I'm serious!"

You exit the washroom, and see your Dad hang up the phone. "Who was it?"
"Sales." He says quickly.
"Awfully intimate chat with sales-"
"Drop it."

After successfully dismantling all of the Byers lights, you sit on the floor fiddling around with your fingers.
"I thought they might've tapped yours too." He stated whipping out a pack of cigarettes. You turn your head away. You always hated the smell of cigarettes. Always. Joyce is placing back and forth with her hands in her hair. You stare at the keys, just sitting there. You get this sinking feeling. Your hand is now hovering above the table, waiting for the right moment. You can hear your heart beat in your ears. Suddenly all sounds are more apparent. Like the small shift of Joyce's feet after each hard step. Your nails scraping on the painted wood. Your breath.
You snatch the keys and bolt out the front door. Steps thundering down the porch and onto the gravel.
".HEY!" You hear you dad call. You fling yourself into the front seat immediately locking the doors. Good thinking too, because your Dad slams into the doors trying to jimmy it open. "STOP THE CAR!"
As you're driving off you roll open the window to yell out sorry. Joyce has a car right? They're fine.

To be perfectly honest with yourself, you weren't sure what you were doing. You'd been driving for about an hour now give or take, just looking for something. The radio had turned on a few times. Apparently, Jonathan had gotten into a fight with Steve Harrington. But you had to stop anyway. You had a bit of a road block. You slam on the breaks, in an effort to not kill the aforementioned, Steve Harrington. His car was parked on the wrong side of the road, and he was pacing, running his fingers through his hair. You roll down your window.
"I almost killed you! Move!"
But he doesn't respond. You begin to honk the horn so fast it's just a blur of sound. Finally he responds.
"I really fucked up." He sighs. Then, he whips around to face you. "Where is Jonathan? Nancy? Are they at his house? How do I get there?"
"No, absolutely not you cannot go there."
"I just want to apologise-"
You begin driving around his BMW.
"Do not-I repeat- do not go to the Byers, or Wheelers, or any house that isn't yours," You say now whipping out the speakers in the car so your voice is amplified. "In fact why don't you go home, take a nice bubble bath, and not park on the wrong side of the road."
"Please-"
"Have a good day Harrington." And you speed off. Then you making a retching sound. "I sound like my Dad."