𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓, ˡᵘᶜᵃˢ ˢⁱⁿᶜˡᵃⁱʳ ¹

01

𝟬𝟭
𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗿𝗼𝗮𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲

    𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐋𝐘 𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐖𝐀𝐘, its wheels spinning over the black ribbon of asphalt that stretched endlessly into the horizon. The sky above them was a faded watercolor of grays and blues, bleeding into the distant clouds, while the air outside clung to the earth with the heavy scent of summer rain that never quite fell. Inside, the world was quieter, but no less tense—a fragile bubble of silence, interrupted only by the faint thrum of the engine and the occasional turn of the radio dial.

    Tessa Hayes sat in the backseat, her forehead resting against the cool glass of the window. She watched the scenery pass by in a blur of green and brown, fields and trees flickering in and out of focus like an old reel of film. It was hard to tell where one thing ended and another began, and in a way, she liked it that way—things felt easier when they blended together, when nothing demanded her attention.

    Her fingers tapped idly on her knee, rhythm steady but absent-minded, a habit she wasn't even aware of half the time. It filled the silence in her head, kept the dull monotony of the road from sinking too deep into her thoughts. She wasn't thinking about where they were going—Hawkins, Indiana, a name that meant little to her but seemed to carry weight in her mother's expression. Instead, her mind drifted, picking at small, random thoughts: What time it was. How long it had been since they'd passed the last town. The ache in her legs from sitting still too long.

    It wasn't like Tessa wanted to go anywhere in particular, but the movement, the endless straight line of the road, felt suffocating in its own way. Hawkins wasn't a destination, not to her—it was just another point on the map, another place to stop.

    In the front seat, her mother, Miranda, drove with both hands firmly on the wheel, her eyes locked straight ahead. The road stretched on like a promise she was determined to keep, even if the destination seemed as empty as the miles behind them. Miranda wasn't the type to talk much on long drives. Not out of coldness, but because she'd always believed that words should have weight—should mean something when spoken. In her silence, there was a steadiness, an unspoken assurance that she'd always have control of the wheel, always know which way to turn.

    "You're quiet," Miranda said eventually, her voice soft but direct. It wasn't a question, more of an observation, as though she had to say it, if only to acknowledge the silence.

    Tessa blinked, still watching the passing landscape, her reflection ghosting in the window. She shrugged, the movement small. "Not much to say."

    It wasn't that Tessa didn't have thoughts, but why share them? Words, once spoken, could be misinterpreted, twisted. Besides, silence felt safer—more manageable. And there was a lot more she was keeping quiet about, too much to untangle while the world blurred by like a painting that hadn't dried yet.

    In the passenger seat, Lena Hayes let out a faint laugh, her lips curving into a grin that was more habit than humor. "When do you ever have much to say, Tess?" Lena teased, turning in her seat to glance back at her younger sister. The older one, always. Not just in age, but in the way she carried herself—effortlessly comfortable with being in the driver's seat of her own life, even if she wasn't literally behind the wheel this time.

    Tessa's eyes flicked to her sister briefly, before settling back on the trees lining the road. There was something about Lena's presence that felt like sunlight—constant, always slightly too warm for Tessa's liking, though never unpleasant. But Lena was also a storm in her own way, the kind of person who pushed forward without hesitation, and Tessa, well... she wasn't really in the mood to keep up.

    Lena didn't seem to notice—or maybe she did, and just didn't care. She leaned back in her seat, fiddling with the ends of her hair, twisting it into a loose bun. The radio buzzed faintly between static, Miranda's hand briefly adjusting the dial before giving up, leaving the faint murmur of static to hum underneath the quiet.

    Tessa could feel the weight of the road now—the subtle incline and fall as they passed over small hills, the slight tremor of the car every time the wheels hit a crack in the pavement. The hours seemed to stretch out, the horizon shifting as the sky deepened into a soft, dusky pink. It should've felt like progress, but to Tessa, it just felt like time slowing down, dragging them forward.

    After what felt like an eternity of silence, Lena spoke again, this time to no one in particular. "Do you think the schools will be weird? Small-town places always have weird schools. And weird people."

    Miranda let out a low hum of acknowledgment, her eyes not leaving the road. "It's still a school, Lena. I'm sure you'll manage."

    Lena smirked, crossing her arms loosely over her chest. "I wasn't talking about me. I'm just curious. You know how small towns can be."

    Tessa glanced at her sister again, the corner of her mouth twitching just slightly. "You mean you're curious about their high school guys."

    Lena scoffed, flipping her hair over her shoulder in mock indignation. "Please. As if."

    But Tessa could see the faint blush creeping into Lena's cheeks, though she didn't press it further. The teasing was light, a fleeting thing. What would Hawkins be like? The thought lingered, but only briefly. In her mind, one town was the same as any other.

    Miranda shifted slightly in her seat, rolling her shoulders to loosen the tension that had settled there after hours of driving. "We'll be there soon," she said again, though this time her voice was softer, less certain. As if she were convincing herself, not them.

    Lena stretched, the leather seat creaking under her. "Good. I'm starving."

    The car fell back into its rhythm—miles passing under them, the shadows lengthening as the day bled into twilight. The houses they passed grew more sparse, the towns fewer and farther between. Every so often, the faint glow of streetlights would appear in the distance, only to disappear just as quickly.

    Tessa closed her eyes briefly, letting the rhythm of the road lull her into a half-asleep state. It was easier this way—easier to not think, to not feel the slow creep of unease that had been building since they'd left. Not that she'd admit it. Not yet.

    Eventually, though, she'd have to wake up, and Hawkins would be there, waiting.

.ೃ࿐ IRIS SPEAKS !

idk i like this chapter alot and i love Lenaa

but for now, kissess xx