Shadows of the Night •a Stranger Things story•

I Believe You, Mrs. Byers

November 8th, 1983

Hawkins, Indiana

"Chrissie, I really don't think you should be going to school today," Hopper states, watching Chris shove a few last minute things into her backpack. She sways slightly on her feet, tying her blood red hair out of her face. Her eyes cloud with tiredness, but she refuses to let it get to her. Somehow she came home last night, without any recognition of it. The only things she remembers is the nightmare she had about trying to find Will and the phone ringing at the Byers' house.

She shakes her head, pressing her palms into her forehead to massage at the headache growing there. "Dad, I'm okay."

Hopper frowns deeply, reaching for a cigarette in the pocket of his uniform. Chris watches the end of it burn as he lights it. The simple action is a bit soothing for her, keeping her mind off of everything for a few flickering seconds. "You came home last night soaked to the bone, shivering. You looked like a shitty ghost, and you had a fever. I heard you throw up at three in the morning."

Chris shrugs. "Next time I'll take the Dodge to work."

"I thought you didn't like driving?" he questions, narrowing his eyes at his sixteen year-old daughter. Sometimes he didn't understand her, maybe he didn't take enough time to sit down and talk to her like he used to. Hopper takes a long drag from his cigarette.

"If it means you'll shut up about letting me go to school today," she draws out, giving him a tiny smile. The smoke swirls around the two of them slowly, and Chris fights the urge to take a drag from her father's cigarette. She isn't a huge smoker; not really her kind of addiction, but maybe it'd help her take the edge off.

Hopper sighs heavily, analyzing her closely. "Chris, is everything okay?"

She grabs her book bag off the back of the chair, taking a piece of toast from a plate on the messy kitchen table. She quickly digs her feet into her Chuck Taylor Converse and gives her father a puzzled look. "You mean, am I doing all right after Will disappeared? No," she admits, sighing deeply. She stares up at her father, eyes sad. "I—I should've been there for him, Dad."

"It's not your fault. It's not your job—"

"I know it's not my job, but he's like my little brother and...and I already lost my sister, my mom, and sometimes it feels like you're gone, too. Will and Jonathan are my friends. I wanted to make sure he was okay. What if I let him down? What if there was something I could've done."

"Chrissie..." His expression drops at the mention of his youngest daughter.

"I'm serious, Dad. I'm going to school today after I help Jonathan put up flyers. I'm going to find Will. I have to save him."

She leaves the trailer-home, standing on the front porch, she turns to her father. "Are you gonna give me a ride? I'd like to save some gas."

Hopper rolls his eyes. "The father's daughter," he hums to himself. He moves outside, reaching for the door on the way. "Get the TV?"

"I can't bring that to school, Dad," she mocks, moving to the passenger seat. He snorts, ready to think of a comeback.

In the Byers' kitchen, Joyce is smoking at the table which is scattered with missing reports and the missing poster Jonathan created the night before of Will. He's at the stove making breakfast. "All right, Mom. Breakfast is ready."

"What?" Joyce breaks out of her trance, staring up at Jonathan, who serves her breakfast, setting the plate down on the table. She pushes it aside quickly. "No, be careful of the poster."