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°"Every storm runs out of rain."°
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Esme Henderson couldn't stop fidgeting, her leg tapping quietly on the tile floor, while her finger drummed on the desk. Steve Harrington wouldn't look at her, and though she knew it was her fault, it still hurt. She had betrayed his trust, getting into the very van where he warned her not to go in. She didn't regret going into it, however she hated how she had to do it.
Rumours were spreading once again, some kids having seen her going into the van, luckily no one had seen her push Steve into a portal. The rumours were different, yet the same this time. Esme Henderson is a slut, who does her job in a van. Esme Henderson wasn'tkidnapped, nor dead, but a runaway whore to pay for her mother's bills. Esme is obviosuly a zombie or a freak or some sort from the dead, for no one leaves that long without an uttered word. Those were only a share of the words spoken about her so far.
The good thing was, that however angry Steve was with her, he drove her home every-day after school. Never did he speak to her though, not for a week. Her hands tightened into fists, hearing the bell ring loudly in her ears. The brown-haired boy looked up from a small conversation with the Byers boy, his eyes connecting with her immediately. What she would do to repair what she had broken.
She rubbed her face, looking away as she stood up, yawning softly. There were nights where she couldn't remember the last time she had slept, her dreams plagued with the Monster that had almost killed her. Then, there were the nights that she had woken up in cold sweats, her stomach bursting in pain as she traced the scars aligning the soft skin. Though it was still healing, they were able to take the stitches out a little while back. Now, she didnt live with the fear of tearing them once again, her body writhing in pain.
Stuffing her backpack with pursed-lips, she closed her eyes, taking a deep breathe. The small footsteps of Steve woke her from her moment, motioning for her to follow him outside. She couldn't bare with this any longer. Through the last month, they had grown so close, to the point where they couldn't keep their hands off each-other. Now, they didn't speak, barely keeping eye-contact, as they walked separately.
The sun seemed to become invisible to her eyes, clouds hugging the humongous star with thick arms. She glanced at Steve, who seemed to find the concrete ground very interesting. Would she dare to speak first? Biting her lip, she slipped into his car, hooking her seat-belt onto herself with ease. Her eyes flickered to his mirror, quickly looking away as she saw how pale she looked, light blue, heavy bags under her eyes becoming very visible now.
She jolted, hearing the car engine start up loudly. She was still so jumpy, still trying to get used to the less constant need of fear. Her fingers skimmed the dash board, collecting dust onto her finger-tips. Brushing the fuzz away, she looked out the window, seeming the trees blur together into a mess of solid grey.
