𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮, stranger things

I Know The End

As Sam laid in her bed, facing the wall, she felt someone tugging on her sheets.

"Sam? You awake?" Dustin's voice asked.

"Mhm," she mumbled, still facing the wall.

"We're all going to the arcade. You wanna come?"

"No, I'm good."

"So.. are you just gonna lay in bed all day?" Dustin asked, hoping for a snarky response, though he didn't get one. "I think it'd be good for you to get out, Sam."

"I don't feel like it."

"You've been saying that for the past week. We're all getting worried. Especially Max."

"Tell her I'm fine," Sam said blankly, pulling her blanket over her shoulders.

"If that's even true, she needs to hear it from you. Can you at least call her?"

"I'll do it later."

"You know what—Mom's not home, so I'm just gonna stay here."

"Go. I'm not a toddler. I can take care of myself."

"No, I wanna stay," Dustin reassured.

"I'm not gonna try to kill myself again, if that's what you're thinking," Sam said, propping herself up and finally facing her brother.

"Okay, well—please don't say it like that."

"Mhm. Please, just go. I'll call them later, okay?"

"You promise you'll be fine?" he asked, Sam nodding her head. "Okay. I'll be back in a few hours. I love you."

"Love you too," Sam responded as she laid back down, facing the wall again.

•••

Dustin had been gone for a few hours, and Sam was still laying in bed. Though now, she was crying.

The last couple weeks had been pretty bad for her. She was back to the constant feeling of guilt, thinking all the tragedies were her fault. Every day was spent thinking about Hopper and wracking her brain for what she could've done differently that day.

Sam finally started to get out of bed, but it was only to get a box from her closet. A box on the top shelf that had a few of Hopper's things in it, including the letter he'd written her. She opened the closet door and stood on her tiptoes, grabbing the box. She sat down on the floor and placed the box in front of her, opening it with the intent of pulling out the letter. Once she saw it wasn't on top of Hopper's folded up police shirt where she'd left it, panic started to set in. She pulled everything out of the box, but still, no note.

"No, no, no, no, no," she muttered, feeling her heart beginning to beat faster. Tears starting to fall down her cheeks, Sam sat there for a few more seconds, staring at the box and digging her nails into the back of her neck.

This can't be happening. Please. This can't be fucking happening.

Sam had pretty much memorized Hopper's letter word for word, but every time she felt like giving up, she had to read it. She couldn't just recite it in her head, she had to see the words that Hopper wrote. The words in his own handwriting. The words that she relied on to make her feel okay.

It'd only been a couple minutes, but Sam already felt like she was dying. She needed that letter.

She quickly stood up and started throwing things from the closet to the floor. She looked through every box and every drawer, practically ransacking her bedroom. She started ripping the clothes hung in the closet down in hopes of finding the letter in one of the pockets, snapping a few of the hangers.