The Reason I Can't Help But Love You.

Hawkins high

Welcome to my living hell, literally and figuratively.

Until this year, 1983; I thought my life was pretty shitty. I was dealt shitty cards and was just playing the game for fun.
I wasn't aware that Hawkins citizens, (sadly including myself) lived right over the top of the gates of hell which by the way was opened by a damn 12-year-old.

Dead.

Ass.

So as I go along with my dreadful yet kickass story, I'll introduce the absolute goons I've gathered like baseball cards over this past year. As well as the emotions I tend to ignore.. Anyway, this story will be seasons 1-4. enjoy.

Forest Hills Trailer Park
-7:24-

Suddenly I was jolted awake by not only the piercing sun through my busted blinds, (which were mysteriously broken after a night of partying.)
By my dill hole of a brother.

Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I squinted just in time to see a pillow being hurled toward my face. Catching it reflexively, I smiled at the head of curls hanging off of my door knob. "Why, thank you adoring human alarm clock. I was just needing a new pillow to rest my head on." I say before stuffing the pillow under my head and closing my eyes.

"OH JESUS CHRIST." He rolled his eyes and folded his arms. "You know if you don't get up, I'm gonna eat all the bacon Uncle Wayne left."

Immediately sitting up, we held tense eye contact. "You do that, I'm switching your stash out for piss weed and shaving you bald again," I say as I pushed him out of my room to get changed.

"YOU KNOW I COULD PULL IT OFF AGAIN!" he said over the record I put on after closing the door, the Runaways, 'dead-end justice' now blasted through the house.

Now yes, it was unusual to see Eddie up before me. Usually, I have to plug in a guitar to an amp at full volume and blast him into the next reality. But I think he pulled an all-nighter.

So it goes. Another day of 'im so pretty, look at me, look at me, and 'look how far I can throw this football'.

Mentally gagging, I remembered how this year was my junior year. And my brother managed to get held back as a sophomore.

Yes, my loving geek of a brother has gotten held back. In his defense, school is just not his thing. He's more of a guy you meet at a gas station who gives you the best weed and advice then you never see him again.

  But he has a hell of a heart. That's why I've gotten into many, many, Many, MANY Parent-teacher conferences (when Uncle Wayne couldn't go and I had to fill in despite my age.) handcuffs, and fights.
   He has a huge bark when it comes to being picked on, yet the second things get physical. He runs. And it's okay. Some people are made to fight and others to fly. Although we are the same age, he just needs me.

Anyway, enough about my brother. Back to my chaos.

I quickly lit a cigarette from my nightstand, sliding the array of condoms, wraps, baggies, keys, makeup, and a stack of magazines out of the way.
I Purse my lips to keep my hold on my cig, while pulling on my baggy jeans, synching them to my waist with a black and silver belt. Pulling on my beat-up Converse and exhaling the addictive smoke.

By Checking my watch after completing my outfit with a baggie, threadbare band t-shirt that hung over my tits perfectly, rings, and hoops, I quickly realized I had 20 minutes before my ass needed to be kissing a seat.

But honestly. Would I be a Munson if I cared about rules?

Not unless it's a fictional rule according to my brother.