Jailbird || Stranger Things

two ➵ reese's pieces

In her short life, and especially in the last half decade, Teresa Hopper had enjoyed a specifically relaxed parenting style.

    Specific, because it's the type of parenting that only comes with the feeling of loss for any part of the family. In her case, it was due to the loss of the youngest member of her family, which not only wreaked havoc with her own emotions, but her parents, who separated, divorced, and then left the place where they'd worked so hard to build that family. Like it never happened. Like it was never worth it.

    She knew Diane never meant to cause her harm, but she couldn't help feel like Diane never really thought through Teresa's own grief. There was no sign that the woman thought about the potential damage of taking the girl away from everything and everyone she'd ever known. Somewhere, deep down, Teresa Hopper blamed Diane for her cynical nature and her desire to find love anywhere she could get it.

    It brought more than one toxic habit into play during her adolescence.

    Indisputably, the teenager's coping methods were questionable, but at least they worked. Grief was something she found in common with at least one person, and it made her stronger in the long term. Truly, the emotional neglect made her who she was. As many mistakes as she'd made, she knew she wouldn't change it.

    During those years, Teresa started seeing patterns in the names people called her, and how they looked at her.

    Nicknames that related to her hobbies, or demeanour, or relationships paled in comparison to those that were variations on her name, but those too had significance.

    Tess signalled a person who hadn't known her as a child; people who only knew her after the loss of Sarah, and as a damaged girl with plenty of baggage in the form of criminal intentions; the girl who lacked her father's influence.

    Teresa was used exclusively by figures who thought of themselves as authority, and truly, who had power over her. From lawyers, to school officials, to the judge, and the officers who'd tied her to her crimes. It wasn't her favourite, but at least she knew what to expect when someone addressed her by her full name.

    Reese, however, was only ever used by family. Real family, who she had always loved.

    The only person to call her Reese in recent years was her father.

    The nickname brought back cherished memories; learning how to ride a bike, and how to swim, and a lot of trips to the park with her little sister and their parents. It brought back happier, better times.

    It also left out the bad parts, like her temporary residence in a New York hospital for a number of months, and her mother packing up her things as she dragged her eldest daughter away from her father. It had no relation to her first relationship and what many would describe as her first heartbreak. The name Reese didn't have any connotations of juvie for her.

    It just made her feel at home.

    "How's Diane?"

    Jim's hands held a far too small cup of coffee, the tendrils of steam curling in the air between them as Teresa held an identical cup on the other side of the desk, admittedly appearing slight bigger in her smaller hands. She'd been lead into his office, and closed the door firmly behind them in order to shut out the jovial mood and lingering Christmas air of the bullpen.

    Up until the arrival of the daughter of the chief, it had been a normal, slow day. The biggest problem they ran into during the holidays had always been overzealous celebrants, but Flo was pretty much an expert in sobering people up.