Clean cut American kid ~ Stranger things

CHAPTER ONE

"What did they do?" My mother asks while sitting at the kitchen table across from me. She looks expectantly at me. My father and brother are too. I'm mowing down a bowl of spaghetti my mother made me. First thing she commented when she saw me was how skinny I had become. Second thing was how baggy my outfit was. Doesn't show any curves she said. I gagged. I swallow while contemplating how to respond tactically to her question.

"A lot of hypnosis therapy. I don't remember most of the time actually." The answer is gold. It's truthful at the same time as it ensures that I can decline future investigations from my parents. I don't remember a lot and what I do remember I don't want to talk about. Especially not with them.

"You were supposed to be in for four years, it's been one." My father disputes over the rest of the family attempting to be content. I stare down at the bottom of the emptied bowl as I reply.

"I'm good now, that's why I was released." My voice is shaky. I've never been a good liar.

"I knew you had some good traits from me, you're a fighter." But my father has never been observant. My gain. He puts a hand on my shoulder. "I hope we can put this whole thing behind us and forget it."

I force my gaze to meet his and nod. He leaves the room with my mother in tow. Steve nods his head towards the stairs and we walk up and into my bedroom.

The bedroom walls are light blue. They must've painted them. I had them covered in posters and graffiti. Not popular by the parents. My bed is made neatly with blue sheets and a grey blanket. I don't think I ever made my bed. My books and records are neatly stacked in my bookshelf. They didn't get rid of them at least.

"Is it true?" Steve asks once I have looked around. I keep turned into the room, facing away from him.

"It's true. I'm clean. Rehab wasn't so bad." I shrug and force a laugh.

"C'mon talk to me." Steve sighs and turns me by my shoulders to make me look at him. Tears well up in my eyes again and I shake my head. God I hate my stupid brother for being able to see through me. He wraps me in his arms as a sob jolts through me.

"It was torture," I sob into his sweater. He rubs my back and allow me to let some bottled up emotions out.

"Are you really released?" He asks as we're standing.

"No," I admit.

He sighs and pulls away, holding me at arms length so he can face me.

"But I'm clean, I promise," I add before he can lecture me.

His eyes flicker between mine, searching for signs of dishonesty or hesitancy.

"I believe you."

I wipe my eyes with the sleeve of my sweater and smile at him. I can't remember the last time I smiled.

"You're a fighter like me," he mocks our father. I start to laugh through my tears.

"He is so stupid." I half laugh, half cry. Steve smiles at me. I'm a mess.

"You are though. A fighter. Just didn't get it from him."

"Thank you," I smile and dive in for another hug. It was a long time since I got affection and I've missed my stupid brother.

We spend the night laying beside each other on my bed and catching up. We've been talking over the phone during the year but it's not the same thing as actually talking.

"Have you been to school?" He asks me.

"Yeah I finished my junior year so I hope I can go directly into senior year now," I answer with a sigh. "I want to graduate with everyone else."

"You're smart, I'm sure you'll be able to."

I smile at him.

"Soo... tell me about Nancy," I say with a teasing voice. I myself can't imagine how a relationship could be positive in any way but Steve is determined about his girlfriend.

"Okay well so she's a year younger than us but she's so smart and she's so beautiful and..."

I don't hear more. I lay beside him and let him talk while I think about what happened up until this moment. My parents sent me to rehab after they found an ad in the paper for people who "care about their beloved ones who are struggling with addictions". Bullshit. So much fucking bullshit. Both the ad and my parents. They don't care about me. They are ashamed of me. They think I am pulling the name Harrington down into the dirt. And not just with the drug addiction. With the way I look, and behave, and dress. It doesn't even matter that I'm smart. That I could probably get into any school I want to. I will never be good enough.

Steve has a chance. If he graduates from college our parents would be proud of him. Because despite struggling in school, he appears a normal kid from the outside. He's popular, he's good at sports, and now he even has a perfect prissy little girlfriend. I'm not jealous of him. He is struggling with our parents as much as I am. I get more shit yes, but I can handle it better. Steve just wants our father's approval. He almost have it as well. I am sure that if Steve were to have my brain, and I were to disappear, our parents would be happy. Then they would have one perfect child. Not two disappointing ones as they do now.

I don't know if they're going to send me back. I don't know if I can trust them. As far as I'm concerned I know I need to be careful. I have to study their behaviour and be careful with what I tell them. Any sign of betrayal from them and I will be gone. All I know is that I will never step foot in that rehab again. I would rather die.