''IT WAS TIME TO FACE HER PAST.'
𝗠𝗘𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗦𝗔 𝗕𝗬𝗘𝗥𝗦 is the definition of an independent woman. Graduating with high hoanouriates, she was the first in her family to open her own business after completing college. A fashion boutique. In a shor...
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Driving back home to Hawkins, emanated in a content quiet Melissa and Hopper instigated, had proving amicably with no troubles. Minus her snivels, clearing mucus out of her nose, congested from her weeping. It, the sound alone, made hopper's soul chip little each time.
He decided on bringing Milly to his lake side trailer home, that had a view of an area in 'lovers lake' locals named it. It is a well known territory for teens use to hang out after school in summer and fall.
Jim switches off his wagons high beams, his trailer in sight.
" it's real late, Mills. I don't want to go and wake Jo.. your mom, and Jonathan so I.."
'She's sleeping. Shit. I should be quiet.' Hopper doesn't speak a single phrase of word exiting his police car.
Wary, as to not bring her out of her slumber, Jim partially extends one arm to click her seats safety belt out of its socket. Hopper then steadied his legs, hauling Milly out of the car carrying her body, using one as to slam it close. Melissa ensconces her face in his collar bone, curling up basking in his warm embrace.
He felt conditioned to keep her in place. It felt... right. There's nothing he wouldn't do to keep her out of harms way. In the end it would lead him in to damnation but he's on his way out to hell. He truely believed to be cursed and Melissa Byers is a pinnacle god sent wanting to discipline, test, him.
He swore, not too loud, forgetting how supposedly Sandra is meant to be on her way over to his trailer. 'She won't mind. It's not as if there is anything goin' on a deep emotional level, anyway. I can just turn her away.'
Jim is distracted from his internal issues when Milly stirs in her sleep. Thankfully not awakening to hear him. 'I gotta get out of these. I stink like absolute trash and need a real clean. Can't have mills smelling this.' Jim sighs moving him self where his bathroom is.
Freshening his appearance, he now wore a chequered shawl plaid shirt matching those with a pair of loose fitting trousers, Hopper goes out to stand on the terrace. Common house crickets cheep signalling fall had arrived and he uses an old, silver, lighter to kindle a cigarette. Cupping a hand to keep smoke in.
