mileven season three

eleven's letters

The United States has been rumored to send a troop of soldiers overseas equipped with superhuman abilities. An investigation is currently underway.

New York Times

August  13, 1989

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El strapped herself into her seat, not turning her head to look out the window. She couldn't. She couldn't turn around and see the life she was leaving behind. Mike stood teary-eyed, waiting for her face to pop into the small window frame, but it never did. The huge car drove off down the street before disappearing into the warm sunrise. Without a word, Mike turned around and pushed through the crowd, heading towards his house. 

"Mike, where are you going?" Will asked, grabbing Mike's shoulder and spinning him around. 

"Home." 

"Mike," Will said, cocking his head to the side. He hated seeing his best friend hurt like this. 

"I'm going home," Mike ripped himself away from Will, shoved his hands in his pockets and walked away. 

"You don't have to be alone. We can talk!" Will shouted after him. Mike turned around, removing his hands from his pockets to give a dramatic shrug. 

"Maybe I don't want to talk," Mike yelled back, turning around and kicking a rock across the beaten path. 

Will swore he saw tears reflect off the sunrise. 

-

It's been too long. I forget how to write sometimes, you know? I pick up the pencil and it sits in my hand, the lead feeling heavy as it pulls towards the paper, words begging to be written. Sometimes, I just don't have the right words. They sit on the tip of my tongue and as they make a faithful leap towards my paper, they float away, never being written down. It pains me that I have to write these letters. I guess it's better it's from me and not someone else telling you that I'm dead.

I've been learning while I'm over here. Not just math and history, but about how to survive. And not just how to survive back in Hawkins by getting a job and having a family. I've seen too much. I know how to hide in plain sight, how to hide my fear and anxiety, how to hide my belongings, how to hide my powers, how to hide so deep in the forest that not even the best soldiers could find me. I guess survival is all about hiding.

I wonder if you've moved on, but then I remember who you are. If we did 353 days once, we can do it a few more times. I can't remember what day it is, but I'm sure it will catch up to me someday. You always wanted to travel the world, but now that I've done it, I don't think it's worth it. I've seen too much pain, at least where they sent me. I don't think you would ever be able to move on from that. 

I miss you more than words. 

(1990)

"Eleven's Letters: Letters from the First Superhero" by Kat Walsh,  2015

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El had shoved her notebook in her bag before he arrived. She sat on her bed and stared up at him, his dark mustache highlighting his deep cheekbones. 

"Sir," She said, standing up attentively. 

"Eleven, we have a mission for you," the man said, holding out a file. El stuck her hands out to retrieve it, but he tossed it on her bed and swiftly turned on his heels.