【𝙁𝙊𝙂𝙂𝙔】... The Queen of Hawkins High. A heavy reputation, all thanks to her older brother, Steve Harrington, and their mother. In some ways, it was cause of the head injury Angelica received in eight grade, wiping almost all of her middle and...
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chapter seventeen•̩̩͙*ೃ
⊱ ────── {⋅. ✯ .⋅} ────── ⊰
Angelica's hair was still damp, even as she pulled her dry clothes on. Evidently, the sight of her dark, limp hair had her squirm uncomfortably, but the chances of Reefer Rick owning a Conair hair dryer was slim to none-- so she sighed, teasing some of her roots in an attempt at creating more volume. Her honeyed eyes were so glued to the mirror, and she failed to see the box of Camels and silver lighter being slipped under the door frame.
The note sitting on top of the small box, however, did catch her attention, and she paused her hair fluffing to walk over towards the door-- kneeling before the piece of paper.
_____________________
Why be sad when you can smoke cigarettes? ;)
-- eddie
(ps: just know you're forever in my debt. this is my last pack. i'm in the shed, incase you wanted to thank me in person)
____________________
The teen girl snorted, and shook her head amusedly at the stupid poem. After looking over it longer than she should've, Angel took a cigarette and lit it, cradling it between her lips.
She just against the bathroom cabinets, drag after drag, her hands shook a bit-- mostly from that familiar electric shock known as misery, and anxiety. The reason she felt this anxiousness was a lingering question, still floating in the air. Perhaps, the answer was also the reason she had been looking over her shoulder every minute. The reason she still felt a whisper of dead breath coiling down her sweater.
That twisted, twisted sight. And the feeling of his leather jacket as she latched on for dear life itself. As soon as that twinging feeling of fear lurched in her mind, the brunette girl stood up, cigarette in hand, and walked out of the bathroom.
tw: gore.
The cool, spring winds nipped her face as she opened the screen door. It shut behind her-- and everything went quiet. Somehow, the shed felt further away from the house than it used to. The small plain of withering grass was not so small anymore. Angelica walked, eyes set on the big cluster of dark trees rooted near the shore. And the set of claws that was snaking around one of the trees.
The girl's throat bobbed, and she stopped walking. Even though every part but her legs were wildly protesting, she was frozen to the ground.
A head popped out, as well as a flash of a mangled face. It was not her mother this time. Instead, it was a person who's potential suffering had a wrenching-hold on her heart. It was a disfigured version of her father-- dripping with thick, sticky blood and loose skin.
"I'm sorry she did that to you, pumpkin" Her father whispered, with a God-awful frown, one that made the girl's knees wobble. "I'm sorry I wasn't there."
A drop of something had blobbed down to her brow. But it wasn't sweat, that much was certain as she touched it. And her fingertips revealed blood. Cold, red blood.
Had she eaten breakfast, she might've thrown up right then and there-- but she let out a small cry instead. As if the nonexistent ice on her legs had thawed, Angel practically sprinted to the door of the shed, opening and slamming it behind her.
Eddie looked up from the old box he was almost knee-deep in, his brow quirked, "I didn't think my note was that good-- But I'm assuming you walked all the way here to thank me..."
When he glanced up, he expected to be met with her honey-eyed gaze-- but instead, he was met with her rigid back, as she stared out the window, her hand placed on the side of her head. He huffed, his eyes narrowed as he muttered, "Okay then..."
Just for those few moments, she continued to stare. Even though the tree trunks were clawless, and there was no dripping face peering at her from the woods anymore. It was just unknowing trees, swaying in that whispering wind. As she pulled her hand away from her head, no red tainted her palms. There was no more dripping blood. It had disappeared just like that thing in the woods.
Anger was now bubbling-- replacing her previous miserable state of mind. How was this thing going to haunt every corner of everything she had? And why? What had she ever done?
"Want one?"
She didn't turn around-- not fully, as if the creature would be standing right at the window if she had decided to loosen her gaze ever so slightly. She still managed to catch a glimpse of whatever he was holding in his hand. A pack of Debbie Fudge Rounds.
"I'm not hungry."
"You haven't eaten anything all morning."
It took a lot for her to keep her gaze straight, instead of looking down, at her belly, like she always did when the topic of food and eating was brought up. Angelica shrugged, "I'm just not hungry, I guess."
Eddie didn't like the teen's reply-- and it was obvious in the way he was staring at her. Right through her, almost. Like he knew the exact thought crusading through her head.
He was walking towards her now, even as her gaze remained on the window, he still stared, "If it's still here in an hour, I will gladly eat it myself."
Angel slightly glanced over as he placed the sweet on a nearby table, smiling sarcastically. When her lips parted to speak, he was already sauntering over to the cluster of boxes, out of earshot. With on more look out the window, the brunette girl reached for the fudge round, swallowing her stubbornness, along with the bite she took out of the pastry. Eating it only reminded her of the rumbling in her stomach she'd been ignoring since yesterday. But eating it also felt therapeutic, freeing. There was no one around that would remind her the conditions of her weight, her stomach.
However, there was a pair of eyes watching her from the other end of the shed, a small, relieved grin twisting onto his lips.
⊱✩⊰
"Oh shit." Eddie laughed in surprise, holding an old, blue stereo in his hands. The teen girl-- who was previously watching the window like a hawk-- smiled and walked towards the small table, where the older boy was now dusting it off.
"At last, some form of entertainment. I thought I was going to die from boredom." She ran her fingers over the top, the dust collecting under her fingertips.
Eddie lightly scoffed, opening the tape compartment, "If you were so desperate, I could've just sang for you."
She snorted, watching as he looked around for tapes, "Please, that wouldn't have been entertainment, just pure torture."
Before any more words were exchanged, the lyrics of Cecilia filled the corners of the shed. Angelica hummed lowly to the familiar beat.
"I did not take Rick for a Simon and Garfunkel fan." His brow raised, but his grin still remained.
"He's got taste."
"For a drug dealer."
Angelica shot him a look, gaze narrowed. "Aren't you a drug dealer as well?"
"I'm a drug seller, angel." He proudly grinned, slumping down in a chair.
