Shutter [Jonathan Byers] Stranger Things I

LIX: Requiem

req·ui·em

noun

an act or token of remembrance.

"Are you sure about this?" Jonathan asked, his hand slipped into Emilia's as they sat in the car just outside of her small trailer. Only, it wasn't hers. For years it had been a roof over her head, but never a home. It was maintained only well enough that it held together, and while it was in a far better state than the Byers' house currently was, it still didn't have the feel of a home like Joyce's did. In the driveway, parked sideways, was her father's truck and she knew that he was going to be home. She hadn't seen him in over a week, in fact, he didn't even know that she had been in the hospital for a few days.

Emilia knew that he would ask questions, why her face was burned, what she had gotten herself into. All the questions a parent was supposed to ask, but he would receive no answers and he wouldn't mind either. She squeezed Jonathan's hand, "Yeah, it's one of the only things that makes sense right now."

He nodded and released her hand, then stayed seated as he watched her walk to her house. A smile seemed permanently on his lips since he had gotten them back, since everything smoothed over. Although he had learned that El, the young girl, had died fighting the monster, he hadn't known her enough to understand what the younger kids felt. She'd sacrificed herself to save her friends, to save Will. He'd never forget her, even if he had only known her briefly. Will was almost back to his old self, aside from a faint fear that lingered in his eyes, as if he was always questioning if this world was real or a part of his imagination.

Emilia opened the door and walked into her house. It was dark, and so she flickered on a light. Expecting her father to grumble and groan about the bright lights bothering his hungover state, she was surprised when all she heard was a shuffle of papers. Walking towards the living room, she saw her father sitting on the floor, legs sprawled out, with hundreds of pictures around him. Pictures of her mother.

"Dad?" She whispered.

He looked up and scrambled to his feet, "Emilia, hey."

"What... what is all this?" She gestured to the pictures that she never knew existed. There was one of her mother when she was younger, hardly older than Emilia was now. Her gorgeous black hair was waving in the wind, it was longer than Emilia had ever seen it. Her smile extended to her eyes, and Emilia knew that she was happy in that picture. In another lying quite close to that one was an image of her mothers naked back, staring out at the ocean. Emilia had never even seen the ocean, and she wondered when her mother had gone.

"Thought you might want them," he shrugged, "There's a lot."

"You had these the whole time?" Emilia wanted to feel angry, she wanted to feel the need to gather all the pictures and take them away from her destructive father. Instead she felt only serenity in this requiem.

Nodding, he told her, "just couldn't stand the thought of her after she died. I saw her in you and I hated it. Emilia, I was never meant to be a father. I think you know that as well as she did. She stayed with me because it was what was best for you, to keep you safe, well fed, a roof over your head. She wanted to leave me long before she died. I should have sent her away, with you, I should have... I was so mad at her when she left with you, and then she died. Anyways, what I'm trying to say, is you should leave before I bring you down too."