Shutter [Jonathan Byers] Stranger Things I

XXIII: Overcome

o·ver·come

verb

succeed in dealing with (a problem or difficulty)

"Come on," He guided her up the stairs to the top floor of the large house. She'd never even been inside of a house this big and it felt like a labyrinth that she'd never find her way out of. Maybe that was the booze; either way, if she wanted to leave, she wasn't going to manage it without a little help. And so she clung to him as he found a bedroom. The bedroom itself was half the size of her own small trailer, although the trailer these days seemed too big for her and her vacant father. He was never home anymore.

"What are we doin-g in he-re?" Her words were slurred, had she drank more? She looked into the red cup and saw that she had. When had she done that? Having never drank anything before, and having never intended to, and having an empty stomach, she felt the effects of the alcohol hit her harder than it should have. Telling herself that she didn't want to make a fool of herself in front of the most popular people at her school, she tried to remain as sober on the outside as possible.

"What do you think we're doing in here?" He asked, "What do people like us do in bedrooms?"

Suddenly he was close to her, closer than she wanted him to be, and yet she simply stood as still as a statue. Hands ran along her arm and towards the side of her neck, to which she tilted her head as though to move away from his hand, but he took it as incentive to kiss her neck. A seemingly soft, beautiful gesture felt gross and sticky like a movie theatre floor. And yet she let him kiss along her neck, upwards to her lips. His hands were already underneath her shirt; bypassing her scars, to which she was grateful, his hands cupped her breasts which sat plump in her black bra.

When her shirt was removed, she instantly covered the dark red scars. Now they were purple, but back then, they were still an ugly, bright red. He didn't even notice them, not right away. Instead, he gently pushed her to the bed. As the removal of clothing ensued, Emilia stared at the white ceiling. Perfectly plastered, perfectly sanded. Her own ceiling, she thought as he got between her thighs, was bumpy and made designs; she used to look at them as a kid and see dragons and bunnies. Now she saw nothing, just felt sweat drop from his forehead onto her half naked body. Her bra was still on, her lower half covered in blankets as they had sex.

She felt dead inside afterwards, and so she continued to lie on the bed and stare at the design-less ceiling above her. After he was dressed, she said, "I don't want to do that again."

"What?" He looked at her, "Why?"

She shrugged, "I wasn't ready."

"Then why didn't you say so?" He snapped, as though he might get in trouble.

She sat up, looking at him. She lied when she said, "I wasn't sure, now I am."

"Whatever," he rolled his eyes. "I wouldn't want to have sex with you again anyways. I should have kept the lights off."

They drove for what felt like hours, and Emilia never once asked where they were going. Music played lightly on the radio and Emilia realized that she'd never felt so comfortable in a vehicle since her mother died than she did with Jonathan. The way he kept both hands on the steering wheel and looked right ahead with only the occasional glance over in her direction to ensure she was okay, it made her feel safe and protected. Terror sat deep inside of her as she realized she was going to tell Jonathan what happened that summer night between grade nine and ten. Part of her wished she hadn't asked to go for a drive, because once she told him, he might not want her around anymore.

She'd walked further distances.

She was a pretty girl who'd get picked up in minutes.

But she couldn't think that way with Jonathan; he wasn't like the other guys who didn't care. Jonathan did care, and that was what made him different, that was what made him special. When she realized that he was going to the lake, the one she used to swim in as a kid on hot summer days, back before she had teenage problems, family problems, and dead-mum problems. Something soothing wrapped itself around her, and she took a deep breath when Jonathan parked.

"Emilia," Jonathan started, and it startled Emilia. "I am so, so sorry if I did anything to upset you-"

"You didn't do anything to upset me," Emilia stopped him in his tracks. Her heart had never beat as fast as it did right then. "You know better than anyone that I'm a hot mess."

"No-"

"Let me talk!" She shouted, she had to get this out before she backed out of it. "Look, after my mum died I thought I'd lost everything in my life. My mum, my hopes and dreams, my father, my dignity... Everything went out the window when she died. I let myself... do things I'd never do. Even though I'd promised myself I'd never drink after how she died, I went to some stupid summer party a few months after it happened. Socializing was my way of... I don't know, healing? Trying to fit in with the popular kids? Whatever it was, it was juvenile. I know that now."

"Okay..." His voice wavered.

"I went with some guy..." It wasn't just some guy. "I don't know why I let it happen... but he... we..."

"Had sex."

She nodded, "And I've been bullied relentlessly because of it."

"Why?" He looked up. When he saw her eyes water, he knew he had to say it. "Is it because of your scars? Are you scared because you think I'll be grossed out by the scars?"

She gaped at him, then shut her mouth and nodded.

"Emilia, I don't care about your scars. They aren't ugly, they're part of you! They show the world that you've survived more than most of us have in our entire lives. You're strong, Emilia, you just have to understand that."

"That's not all," she whispered, and Jonathan's eyebrows furrowed. "I didn't want... to do it. I wasn't ready..."

"Emilia, that's..."

"No- I... I didn't tell him to stop, I didn't say no... I just wasn't..."

"That doesn't make a difference!" Jonathan wanted to explode, but he couldn't take it out on her. "There are lines that you don't cross. He crossed those lines and hurt you; that'll never, ever be okay."

Emilia never realized, but in heart she always knew it. It was time to overcome what haunted her.