Basic Instinct [stranger things]

4. Misdirected Hits

CHAPTER FOUR
MISDIRECTED HITS

The second the front door closed behind Kimmy, the shouting stopped. And that wasn't a good thing.

In fact, the young girl would have preferred they continue screaming at each other. Because now that they had stopped upon hearing her return home, it confirmed the suspicions that the argument had been about her.

A few incoherent whispers were exchanged between the two behind the wall before the slamming of the back door could be heard.

Kimmy almost let out a sigh of relief as she headed for the stairs. Despite being a two story, the family house was small. Only the small kitchen and living room downstairs while the bathroom, Kimmy's room and her parents' room were upstairs. It was a cold, dingy house which was usually a complete tip. With the smallest of mold lining the bathroom as well as the beer cans which often coated the floor of the kitchen as well as the living room - unless Kimmy cleared them up, which was more often than not.

It was embarrassing. But neither of her parents had enough money to really fix the house up to at least make the house look semi-presentable.

Her parents' room was probably the cleanest in the house, the reason being that it was rarely used. With her mother passed out on the couch drowning in cans of alcohol, while her father spent most nights off doing god knows what, god knows where.

As horrible as it sounded, Kimmy preferred the nights like that. Ones where her mother fell asleep while the sun was still up and her father was probably miles out of the town.

At least then she wasn't faced with any ridicule or harm. Nights like those were the closest she ever felt to safe in that house.

Several moments later, her mother burst out from the kitchen, catching her just before she reached the top of the stairs.

"Where the hell have you been?" She slurred while swaying side to side in a desperate attempt to maintain her balance.

Kimmy just about scoffed - before catching and refraining herself.

Figures, she thought to herself, just after 4pm and she was absolutely plastered.

No surprises there.

Kimmy had been expecting to walk into her house and find her mother plastered on beer and wine while her father left to spend the next few days who knows where most likely high and drunk out of his mind - actually, that was the best case scenario.

That was her best case scenario.

A twelve year old girl growing up in such conditions, she really hadn't stood a chance. Quite frankly, she was born to fail. Kimberley Jenkins would never get far - and she had accepted that. She knew that.

"School." Kimmy shrugged quietly in response to her mothers question, however this response didn't seem to satisfy her mother.

"Watch your tone when you speak to your mother-"

"I didn't speak to you with any tone." Kimmy retorted firmly, turning to face away from her in hope to continue up the creaky stair case. Mumbling under her breath when she was sure she was out of earshot. "You're usually just too drunk to know the difference."

Only her mother did hear.

"I am your mother Kimberley!" The older woman had her voice raised now, though she was still slurring her words due to her alcohol induced state. Resulting in Kimmy being unable to take her seriously no matter how much she tried. "You will not speak to me that way!"