"Shine so bright that it burns their eyes."
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Luna Hopper, a 17 year old sophomore at Hawkins High, wants nothing more than to finish high school and move away from the small town she's forced to call home. Her cold demeanor and standoffish nature h...
❝I wanted to love you like my mother's mother's mother's did
Civilian❞
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┌────── ☾ ⋅☆⋅ ☽ ──────┐ RELEASE └────── ☾ ⋅☆⋅ ☽ ──────┘ (TW // description of past abuse
This will be a longer chapter, so get yourself some water and strap in!)
LUNA WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 1 9:00 AM
I've been driving for about 11 hours now, only taking a few breaks here and there at different rest stops along the way. As I drive more and more into the city of New York, I feel a pit in my stomach expand with past memories.
It's weird being back here. I wrote down the address to my old home years ago because I always had the intention of coming back one day and I knew there was a possibility that I'd forget where to go, but now that I'm here, I've come to realize that I still know this city like the back of my hand. It's like muscle memory in a way. My body knows when to turn before my mind does.
After driving through the city, I drive into a neighborhood just outside the city. I glance around at the familiar houses as I pass them. Some have been painted new colors and some have been completely rebuilt, but they all strike me with nostalgia nonetheless.
Getting to the house that I used to call home, I park along the street before turning the car off completely. The house before me is a staple for the American dream. It's two stories, it has a beautiful green lawn, flowers and shrubs line the outside, and a white picket fence lines the property border.
It hasn't changed at all.
I give myself a moment to take a deep breath, relaxing my whole body and suppressing my slightly shaking hands before I undo my seatbelt and grab my duffel bag from the passenger seat. After opening the car door, I step out into the curb and close the door behind me. I let my eyes wander as I walk up the driveway, memories popping up with every step.
With one final swipe of her chalk, Sarah stood up with a smile brighter than the sun itself. I looked up from my own drawing and peeked around her frame to see what she had drawn. It was a drawing of a cartoon tiger with yellow stars surrounding it.
We would do anything from hopscotch to drawing contests. Part of me can still see all of Sarah's illustrations on the blank pavement.
When I finally get to the front door, I bring my hand up to knock, but I find myself hesitating.
Why am I hesitating? I've been planning on doing this for years now, I should be ready.
