Abnegate [Stranger Things]

Chapter 1

Will Byers' friends thought they were finally onto a lead to find the boy. Teaming up with Eleven, Mike and Lucas and Dustin had been wandering the dark forest for hours. But after Will's bike was found, the forest had been empty for weeks.

Meanwhile, Joyce Byers had frantically called Chief Jim Hopper. The boys were supposed to get back to their own homes hours ago. She had called their mothers to see if they had, but they were gone. She couldn't even contact them through Will's old walkie-talkie. Terrified that the town of Hawkins would lose more children, Jim Hopper sped down the highway and to the Byers' old mobile home. When he pounded on the door, he managed to find the middle-aged mother still in her own home. She was shivering, wrapped in a fleece throw over her day clothes.

"They still haven't come back," she cried out. "Their parents haven't seen them. What if that thing took them?"

Her voice was cracking and terrified. Jim was just as scared as Joyce was, but he only let out a breath he had been holding. "Joyce, we're going to find them. They're probably out searching for Will."

"But this is the exact kind of night that Will went missing!"

Hopper took a deep breath. "All you can do right now is wait here if they come back," he tried to calm her. "I will go out to look for them."

Hopper left the trembling Joyce Byers in her doorway, and stepped back through the muddy grass to his truck. He gave a small wave to the woman, praying that she would stay inside. As he began backing out of the wet pathway, he dug around his passenger seat for his massive black flashlight.

Once Hopper reached the area that he had last seen the boys, he pulled over to the dirt near the trees. He held his revolver tightly in one hand, his flashlight in the other. He clicked on the bright white light, waving it across the trees. "Boys," he shouted loudly. "Mike! Dustin! Lucas!"

Hopper didn't want to take the chance of calling Eleven. They were too close to the laboratory where she had run away from. The sheriff kept on through the dark trees and bushes, calling out each young boy's name.

Within several minutes, it began to rain again. Hopper was miserable and cold and drenched as he marched through the trees, still seeing no trace of the young teenagers. "Lucas! Mike! Dustin! Come on, kids! You gotta go home!"

The cop's voice was beginning to crack. He was exhausted and freezing cold, and every part of his clothing was now wet. He had absolutely no idea where he was in the thick forest, and he was beginning to fear his flashlight would die out soon. He whistled loudly with his fingers between his teeth, but soon his hands were too cold and cramped to make a noise.

Hopper was stopped by a scream. His eyes went wide as he heard Eleven's voice. "Mike! Dustin!" He broke into a run towards the source of the scream. "Lucas! Where are you?"

The cop almost ran into a tree as he ran. There was another scream. "Hopper!" The man recognized Mike's voice.

"Kid, where are you?" He shouted at the top of his lungs. Eleven screamed again. Hopper's ears felt like there were pencils being shoved inside them.

A small crowd of moving shadows stopped the sheriff. He held his light in his mouth and his revolver in his left hand, and he could just barely make out Mike's face. He was standing against a tree, next to his friends.

"Mike!" Hopper shouted. Mike's head whipped around to the side, staring at Hopper through the heavy rain. His hair was plastered down, he was shaking, and he gripped the tree behind him tightly. The boy stared back in front of him.

Eleven was crouched on the ground only tens of feet away. Hopper's eyes widened again. She shrieked out an awful piercing scream. Hopper could see another figure in front of her.

"Who the hell are you?" He shouted as loudly as he could. He held his revolver up. It was human- or it at least looked human. But there was something about it messing with Eleven.

"Who are you?"

The voice wasn't even loud. It was quiet, almost mumbled. But everybody could here it quite clearly. It was a girl's voice.

"Whatever you're doing to her, stop it!" Hopper shouted again.

"She will hurt me."

Hopper suddenly felt a heavy weight on his shoulders. Not literally, but a wave empathy and pity. He wasn't sure why. He lowered his revolver slowly.

"She's not going to hurt you." His voice lowered back to its normal volume.

There was a short pause. The only sound was the rain battering against the ground. Then Eleven shakily stood up. Hopper could see rain smearing the blood that flowed from her nose. She shook and trembled, and her pink dress was stained with mud and grass.

"Who are you," he asked again, louder now over the rain.

"Who are you?" The girl's voice echoed. It was like it was in his brain. Talking to him through his mind.

"What's your name?"

The human-like figure stepped closer. Hopper could just barely make out a pale face and matted-down dark hair. She had terrifying eyes, but he couldn't tell what colour. She held up her left hand, palm towards her. It was thin and bony, like she had been starved. The girl couldn't have been more than sixteen. She held out her forearm, lifting up her ripped sweater sleeve. Her pale wrist had three digits tattooed on the skin. She stared at Hopper with her hollow eyes as she repeated the number on her wrist.

"Two."