Harrington

Death Wish

I pace the living room floor, my eyes not leaving the tiny spot of my blood that sits on the carpet. Steve is seated on the couch with his hands in his hair, and I can visibly see his gears working desperately in his mind. We both know just how much trouble we are in, and we have to come up with a plan for when our dearest father returns. I run a shaky hand through my hair, and lean against the wall.

"Any ideas yet?" I sigh, and Steve looks up.

"No. And this is entirely your fault, you know that?" Steve stands up, "If you hadn't gotten involved with the police yet again, we wouldn't have anything to worry about. What's wrong with you, Liz?!"

"I don't know." I whisper and Steve steps closer.

"What was that?!"

"I don't know, Steve!" I cross my arms and look away, "But this isn't entirely my fault. You were the one who beat me up in the first place, what good did that do?"

"It taught you a well deserved lesson!" Steve shouts, "And when that cop comes back, I'm putting the blame on you! And you better go with my story or so help me you will regret it!"

Steve stalks out of the room, leaving me to turn around and kick the nearest table leg. I let out a noise that is somewhere between a groan and a scream of frustration, turning and running out of the house. I slam the door behind me and grab my bike, which Hopper must have taken from his car before he drove off. I hop on it and ride into the dark, no idea where I'm headed.

However, as soon as I ride past a familiar street, my bike lurches to the side, my new path detected. I draw from my mind the directions to the Byers household, and begin the journey. It's dark, and late. I turn on the headlight that is attached to my bike, casting a small range of light ahead of me. I follow my mental directions, and soon come to a familiar clearing, the house I have searched for not far in the distance. I screech to a stop however, when in the distance I spot flashing lights, red and blue. I groan and frustratingly run a hand through my hair. I definitely do not want to see Hopper again, but I have to talk to Joyce. I decide I'll wait until the cops leave, and circle my bike around to the side of the house, where I sit under an open window. I hear voices inside, and concentrating hard can identify them. It's Hopper and Joyce, talking softly.

"The earth must have given way." Hopper was saying, and I peek over the window sill to see them.

"Joyce?" Mrs. Byers is staring off into the distance, not seeming to hear the Chief, "Joyce? Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"No." Joyce says, her voice still managing to be hysteric even when she's almost whispering, "Whoever you found is not my boy. It's not Will."

"Joyce." Hopper looks exasperated.

"No, you don't understand." Joyce argues, "I talked to him a half hour ago."

She walks over to a small door, and I smile at her determination to not seem crazy, even if it wasn't working well.

"He was, he was here." She pulls out a ball of lights. "He was, he was talking with these."

"Talking?" Hopper says flatly and I look to Joyce.

"Uh-huh." She nods, her shaky hands clutching the string of tangled lights, "One blink for yes, two for no."

Joyce then walks over to the wall and gestures to the hasty alphabet we created earlier.

"And—and, uh and then I made this so he could talk to me. I made it with a girl." Hopper reacts to this quickly, his head snapping up.

"A girl?" He clears his throat, "What girl?"