evil hour | stranger things

five: half a confession

"It's been like, almost two months, chief," Rowan whined, "Can't I at least go grocery shopping with you?"

"No."

"Ugh."

Jim had strict rules, that was no doubt. It was easier to get Eleven to follow them but Rowan was older and already had a mind of her own — he believed she lived to defy him.

Jim stirred the eggs on the stove, moving around Rowan like she was an obstacle in his way.

"I might let you go," he noticed her beam up, "If you start talking. To be honest, if I had taken you down to the station, you'd hold the record for most stubborn person ever."

She looked away, "I'll take it as a compliment."

"Kid," he dropped the fork, "You've been living with us for, what? Almost two months? I don't mind you being here, but I need to know who I'm hiding."

Rowan crossed her arms, "What, like you know everything about El?"

He gave a stern look, glad that Eleven had been too immersed in some weird commercial on the screen instead of the conversation.

"I can call my deputies right now, no problem. If you want to act like this, be my guest," he paused for a moment, "Just don't forget to lock the door on your way out."

Rowan clenched her jaw and stomped away from him. He watched her as she quickly zipped up a random jacket and went outside on the porch. From the window before him, he was sort of glad to see that she simply sat on the small steps instead of running off somewhere.

With a sigh, he placed the plates down on the table, "Hey, kid. Come eat, we'll be back in a sec."

Eleven took her seat as Hopper opened the door and then sat next to Rowan after closing it. She didn't dare look his way or acknowledge his existence and simply hugged her knees close and rested her chin on them.

"In order for this to work, I need cooperation. I'm not saying I know everything about El, but she's told me enough so that I trust her and I know who I have under my roof." he spoke softly, almost unrecognisable to Rowan's ear.

Her teeth lightly bit down on her cheek, "Yeah, well it's hard enough to think about it. I don't know if I can talk."

He looked intently after hearing her rigged tone, "I'm not forcing you. I just need something."

For a while both of them stayed quiet, not saying a word until he got up and gave her his hand to take. They walked inside and ate their food, exchanging a few words to El who had almost finished her food.

Jim took a shower after work, still waiting for something from Rowan. He failed to notice her hunched over the desk in El's bedroom, scribbling away on a piece of paper. The other girl was on her bed, using what Rowan had taught her and managed to read a few sentences from a book. She bragged about it later.

When Jim finally settled El into bed and tucked her in, he jumped after closing the door to her room to find Rowan standing behind him.

"You mind being a little.. Louder?"

Her hand stretched out and gave him a piece of paper, a blank look on her face, "Here's some of it. Maybe I'll tell you everything someday."

He watched her walk into the bathroom and heard the sink running. Whilst she took her time in there, he sat on the armchair and unfolded the paper to see her neat yet also tiny handwriting.

"I think I was born somewhere in the beginning of January. None of us really knew for sure, though. Like I said before, I'm around 17 I think. I don't have any siblings, that I know of that is. In the place where I was kept we were taught a sport for discipline. The only choice I've ever made in my life was to choose the sport I'd learn. It was between ballet, gymnastics and aerials. Aerial silks, they called it. I chose that one, even though I always watched the other kids when they did ballet and gymnastics. Just by watching I learned most of it. That's why I was my boss' protege. I hated it when he called me that. I wish I could say something more. Honestly, I do. But I haven't reached a place in my mind that let's me talk about those memories. Some of them I still can't even remember or I can't figure out if they were real or hallucinations. I know you barely have enough for you and Eleven, not to mention me on top of it. I looked for places in the newspaper that need hiring, so maybe I'll be out of your hair next week. I hope this is enough to let me stay a little while longer."

He stared at the paper in his hands, jumping up and walking towards the bathroom door. His knuckles knocked three times, "Kid?"

"Yeah?"

"Stop looking for jobs, okay?"

He waited for her as she paused, leaning his head against the door.

"Okay."

~  ~  ~

"How's he doing?"

Jim's voice echoed around Joyce's head whilst she sharply inhaled the smoke from her cigarette. Her eyes wandered towards Will as he sat in the car changing the radio stations. His head was covered in a knit beanie, a big jacket draped over his torso that his brother used to wear.

"He's... getting by. I don't know. He isn't himself. As much as I try to convince myself he is, he just isn't." 

He watched the way her worrisome gaze lingered onto Will for a little while longer before she averted it to her shoes standing on the wet cement. She had placed her back against the back of Jim's car, hugging herself with one hand from the harsh cold.

"He's gonna be okay, Joyce," he paused for a moment, unsure if she even heard or registered his words, "If Owens doesn't do his job, we'll find someone better."

She shook her head, "Someone better? There is no one who understands what is going on with him, Hop! No one!" she tried to keep her voice hushed, her fingers shaking around the almost burnt out cigarette, "No one understands him, not even me."

He was unsure of what to do. Will caught his gaze as he jumped out of the car, noticing Joyce flinch at the sight of her son. His presence had become traumatic to her.

"Honey?" she called out to him as he approached her.

"Mom, can we get pizza?"

Joyce let out a short breath, nodding as her palm cupped his cheek, "Yeah, we can get pizza." Her foot stepped on the cigarette on the ground, giving Jim one last smile before the two drove off to the nearest pizza place. Jim sighed while entering his car, an uneasy feeling stinging his chest he usually felt when he felt helpless.

As he started the engine, his ears caught onto the clicks from the machine in the cabin. For a moment, he panicked, but when he figured it out, he began driving slower and calmer.

"Out of milk." Pause. "Eggos, too."