𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐡, 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐈𝐗

𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐡, 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒

𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐓𝐎𝐍
HAWKINS 1983

It was Christmas Eve, 1983, and a thick blanket of snow wrapped the town of Hawkins in a wintry embrace. In a cozy room painted in soft shades of light pink, a young brunette lay sprawled on her bed, dressed in a vibrant red, fluffy dress that had been chosen by her absent mother—a woman obsessed with crafting the perfect image of the Harrington family for the small-town onlookers. The Scarlette Harrington, however, found little joy in the façade; she couldn't care less about the admiration her mother craved.

Madonna's debut album blared through the room, the upbeat rhythms bouncing off the pink pastel walls, filling the air with an ironic cheerfulness. As "Lucky Star" faded into the next track, "Should I Stay, or Should I Go?" by The Clash, Scarlette felt her heart drop, heavy with memories that clung to her like the winter chill outside. She was haunted by the echoes of Will's voice, singing desperately while trapped in the Upside Down—a memory of both hope and fear, forever etched in her mind since Eleven had pulled him back from the darkness.

Downstairs, Steve Harrington, the infamous older brother, sat on the couch with their father, engrossed in a football game. It was a familiar ritual—a small island of normalcy in their chaotic lives—where they would gather each Christmas Eve, cheering for whatever team graced the screen. The atmosphere was comfortable, filled with the smells of holiday feasts wafting from the kitchen, until a sudden loud thud shattered the calm, like an unexpected storm rolling in.

Scarlette's mother, bustling around with pots and pans, froze mid-stir. Panic gripped her features as she exchanged worried glances with her husband and son. They all knew the sound too well; it was a call to action, a reminder of the vulnerability that lurked beneath their seemingly perfect exterior they held.

Without hesitation, Steve bolted up the stairs, fueled by an instinctual dread, his heart racing as he hoped against hope that it wasn't what he feared. The footsteps echoed ominously in the quiet house, growing louder as he reached Scarlette's room. Bursting through the door, he was met with a sight that struck him to the core—his little sister sprawled on the floor, her body shaking violently as if trying to escape an invisible tormentor.

"Shit, shit, shit-fuck!" His voice cracked under the weight of panic as foam bubbled at her lips. Desperation surged within him as he looked up at his parents, who stood frozen in disbelief, their expressions a mix of shock and fear. "Why the hell are you just standing there?!" Steve spat, his voice a mix of anger and fear. The urgency in his tone pierced through the silence, demanding action.

"Don't speak to your mother like that!" their father barked, but Steve dismissed him, his focus solely on Scarlette. Steve rolled his eyes, just wanting to help Scarlette.