"We need to talk about it, kid."

Now, the following weeks for Blair had been...well, for lack of better word, they had been extremely fucking stressful to the point she was absolutely terrified she was going to wake up one morning to find her hair torn out in some sleep-induced rage. However, strangely enough, her cause of such stress had nothing to do with her magic, nor the trauma of the upside down ringing in her ears like clockwork, nor the weight of martyrdom heavy upon her shoulders, pulling her down to the damnation awaiting her below, no, nothing like that...she was just having a rather awkward time of it trying to avoid her fucking father.

Because when the dust had finally settled and she'd finally been given a mere moment to catch her breath...everything suddenly came crashing down all at once, some shattered illusion of false pretentious falling around her like the ruins of Rome that she'd frantically tried to catch with bloodied fingers. Hopper was her dad...Jim Hopper, the Chief of Police and the biggest pain in her fucking neck was her fucking dad and she was meant to what? Be okay with that rather important missed piece of information? She'd seen that mans naked ass but apparently telling his daughter she was, in fact, his daughter had been too far for him.

What the fuck was she actually meant to do here? Hug him? Swing for him? Turn him into a fucking frog and dissect the tall bastard in an attempt to find where he hid all of his fucking audacity?

And yet the truth of the matter was that she could barely fathom doing anything more than screaming into the dark night where not a soul to hear her. All she did know...all she could feel, really, was a grotesque mixture of hatred and longing, emotions that had made their home inside of her for so long like a lonely ghost possessing her corpse to be made human whilst the word 'father' rotted in her mouth. Because her grams had taught her when Blair was growing up under her critical gaze that she should make peace with abandonment, and make peace with her unlovable shape that had been sewn together by anger and drunken decisions.

God, she was straight up not having a good time lately, and even that seemed to be a wee bit of a fucking understatement. But her saving grace had been the kids, as they always were really, considering she could barely get a moments peace with the little shits as they ran rampant in her house because apparently, her somewhat haunted living room was the best place to play Dungeons and dragons...though the witch had a rather sneaky suspicion it had more to do with the fact that the four of them would bat their lashes at her and she'd fold like a cheap fucking lawnchair and order them pizza whenever they were round like a bitch.

However, she couldn't avoid her demons for long, not for lack of fucking trying of course. Which lead her to where she was now, clutching a makeup brush with a hand that was being wracked with tremors, not actually having a clue on what she was doing because all she was used to was mascara and occasionally a dark lipstick when she was feeling particularly slutty, but apparently Eleven wanted the whole works...but Blair didn't even know what the works were. And it was becoming more and more evident as the two stared at each other with varying levels of confusion while the clock on Hopper's wall just kept on ticking, like a bomb about to blow.

"You know I don't really have a clue on what I'm doing, don't you?"

"Yes."

"And you're going to make me do it anyway, aren't you?"

"Yes." Eleven nodded gravely, her eyes wide and unblinking as she looked up at the witch who attempted to stare at her the same...before the young girl began to grin, a blinding and blossoming thing that showed off every single tooth she had, like something feral, like something innocent, and it was then that Blair finally broke as she laughed, cackled really, something as wild as the curls of her hair as she threw her head back, especially when she felt a small hand wrap around her own wrist to make sure that the makeup brush wasn't stabbed into either of their eyes as they giggled.

"God, I hope you never change, kid." She murmured, wiping away the tears that had formed like misty horizons with her thumb and ignoring the black that stained the tips like a grotesque mockery of her magic that was wearing down her aching bones until she felt like nothing more than a hollowed our carcass. Fuck, she was exhausted, like, feeling like she was high on delusions and sleep deprivation, with her entire body on edge due to the numerous caffeine she'd took like a shot to the system in the hopes it would revive her just a little, just a bit so she was able to spend time with her sister without wanting to scream.

Her leg was still healing, burning inside of her veins like an infection of rot and disease, and her craft was working overtime to ensure she didn't lose it through her own damned greed for devotion because she had been starved of it for so long...And absentmindedly, she wondered how Steve was doing, if his body ached like her own did, if his brain felt like it had been batted and bruised and turned to mush inside of her skull. Not that she was going to go out of her way to ask, far too busy doing other...things that required her not admitting to a weakness that could maim her completely.

Speaking of maiming, Blair sighed quietly, rubbing her palm along her calf from where it had been elevated as if to soothe the hurt that was still lingering, before finally she looked down at the eyeshadows at hand that Hopper had panicked and bought in bulk for the two, some sparkly, some shiny and some just plain and bright, trying to figure out just what to do next as Eleven watched her carefully, gaze flickering constantly to the makeup, and then to the hand that was still trying to massage the pain away, the scent of magic becoming heavy in the air like thick smaug.

"Are you...okay?"

Not in the fucking slightest.

"Course I am, sweetheart. I'm the Blair Bitch remember?" The grin on her face was stretched out, far too large to be real as she chuckled, looking down at the girl with her brows raised and ignoring the warnings of danger, danger, danger that was beginning to whisper in her ear like a secret kept, some feral, half mad part of herself clawing at her insides in desperation for her to be silenced. She was miseries favourite daughter, forced to suffer for eternity, to be tormented for the price of being more than and less than a mere human...but the horror she drank was for love, and so she would gulp it down until all was left was scraps.

And then it seemed that she finally found herself choosing what colour to go with as she bathed the brush in hues of pink, abruptly stabbing it into the pigment again and again until the powder drifted over the edge of the palette and no doubt staining Hopper's bed sheets. Not that she cared in all honesty, if anything, he should just be grateful she hadn't took a massive fucking dump on his carpet like she'd debated doing the moment those cursed words slipped through his rough voice like gut punch to the stomach...wanting to give her old man a visual reaction to the term of going absolutely ape-shit.

"Sooo...why have you been giving Max the cold shoulder?"

"Don't like her."

"You don't know her."  Blair scoffed, trying not to laugh at the petulant pout that formed across the youngers lips when she scowled, looking very much her age as she stared pointedly down at her hands that had begun to play with an idle piece of fluff that was fraying away at the edge of the blanket. Now, they were not related in the slightest and the witch knew that, honestly, she did, but sometimes, just sometimes, she found broken fragments of her reflections staring back at her when they looked at one another, the baring of teeth in every smile, the longing, the rage...the willingness to dance with the devil if it meant loves salvation.

"Don't want to." Eleven mumbled quietly, only lifting her head slightly when she felt familiar bruised fingers tilt her face up to brush the scatted pink across her eyelids with a gentleness that had never come easy to scarred palms full of ruin and dripping with sin. And with the grip the Witch had found on her chin, she used it to raise her up even higher, where their eyes could actually meet instead of hiding away from one another, shying away from that threat of vulnerability that consumed the both of them, biting with greedy teeth, piece by awful piece.

"Look, whatever the problem is, that firecracker is a brave kid who's went through alot in the past few months...it wouldn't kill you to try and be nice to her, giving y'know, the trauma that bonds us all together now." She said, shrugging her aching shoulders as she finally finished with the rest of the makeup, that surprisingly didn't look all that awful, much to her own delighted suprise, before pulling away to start packing everything back in their boxes, pretending she couldn't see the way her sister was staring at her reflection with a scrutiny that was starting to get a wee bit insulting.

"Besides, it seems like she's here to stay either way kid, it's your choice if that's as your friend or as some weird middle-schooler enemy on top of all of our other enemies."

God, it was so weird to think that they had enemies, like actual enemies that were dangerous, and not just extremely annoying and the bane of her entire fucking existence like Harrington was- is...used to be? She still wasn't exactly sure on what was going on there, nor did she intend to find out, but still, it was a whole thing that if she thought about it for any longer than a few minutes it gave her a headache. But between scientists that had some awful, disgusting morals and desires and some monster from another dimension intent on destroying their lives completely, he had truly become the least of her problems.

However, she could tell from the look on Eleven's face that her words had struck some kind of chord in the girls battle worn body, but whether that had been a good chord or a bad one, only time would tell...or, more accurately, Dustin would eventually tell when he'd spill the beans to her when she took him to his summer camp thing because fuck knows he liked a bit of gossip.

"You ready yet? You stay here any longer and you're going to miss your party thing, kid."

No, no, no, no, she was not fucking ready to deal with Hopper, she thought she had more time, she'd been so sure she had more time to just sit there and laugh and bond with her sister without the looming threat of the talk hanging over her head like a noose desperate to wind around her fragile throat and hang her on her own desires. And she wanted to tell him to fuck off, to let her have this for as long as she could, until she was rot and bone, but she didn't, she couldn't...not when Eleven had jumped up beside her, grinning and breathless, looking down at her with those deadly brown eyes that struck her sister fond, as she sighed quietly and slowly stood upon unsteady legs.

After all...how bad could it possibly be anyway?
__________________________________________

As it turns out, Blair would of honestly rather faced the bastard demodog that almost took her leg with nothing more than her bare and bloody fists then sit in this fucking truck, sat between Hopper and Eleven and wanting to claw her own fucking eyes out just to give them all something to talk about that wasn't about Mike Wheeler having shifty little eyes that the Chief didn't trust. But while time most certainly did not fly, they did, thankfully, soon find themselves outside of the school where excitement was buzzing through the air, and Eleven was quick to start yanking off her belt as if it burned.

However, she hadn't been quick enough, as Blair was swift to loop her arm around the girls shoulders and tuck her into her side where she fit like a broken piece of a puzzle, nestled and safe in her shadow as she held her close, chucking under her breath as her sister shrieked, playfully trying to jab her fingers into the witch's side in a desperate ploy for freedom. But she could only hold her tighter, burying her nose into her hair as she debated just keeping her there, keeping her beside her so she didn't have to face Hopper alone...because didn't she deserve to be selfish? Just this once?

"Hey, you'll remember what we talked about, yeah? And be good, please good God be fucking good." She whispered carefully into those styled curls, breathing her in with a desperation like she was commiting her to memory, before she unwound herself from the embrace and let the girl run free, silently praying to whatever force higher than herself that she and the chief wouldn't be getting any complaints about their kid making all the other kids piss themselves.

And then there were two, she thought ironically, trying not to burst into some kind of hysteria as she watched Eleven become smaller in the distance while the silence stretched on like an omen and what the fuck was actually going on in here, how the fuck was this her life, her shitty awful life, holy shit. She couldn't do this, she could not do this, couldn't bare to listen to his excuses or god forbid his reasonings to why she had been something to abandon and not cradle, to be ashamed of like a dirty little secret and not loved like she should of been, like she'd wished she'd been again and again because how the fuck was she to know any better?

Blair bitch, that's what she had been called for so long now she knew nothing but the name and the shape it gave her. But it was in fact, all she was, a bitch...a dog, and she loved like a dog too, messy and panting and bloodstained, snarling with her rotting gums, gnawing at the hands that fed her, shrieking when people got far too close, tail tucked in between her legs and so horrifyingly desperate and hungry, tearing out pieces of herself in fear, baring her teeth and leaving scars without meaning to, strangled on a leash of her own longing, as they all mocked her for tearing off her own leg when it had been snared in a trap, when help had been offered...but how was she to know any better?

She was not a violent dog...she doesn't know why she bites.

"We need to talk about it, kid."

"The fuck we do, motherfucker." She snapped, her chest heaving as her heart rate spiked, and she could feel it, felt the way it pounded, like her ribs were about to burst, like she could hear it in her ears drowning out everything else until all that was left was ringing. This couldn't be happening, she couldn't handle this right now, staring out the window and watching as the excitable kids walked past, skipping and jumping, full of an innocence that she had never held as her bottom lip wobbled and her dark eyes filled with relentless tears that ached. She was not strong enough for this conversation...and she feared she never would be.

"Look, I know, I know everything went to shit, okay? I know, but we can't keep avoiding it, not after-" Hopper cut himself off gruffly, rubbing a rough hand down the length of his face as it pulling off the sudden fear that had settled there, unable to look at her, unable to try as he leaned his arms against the steering wheel with a loud sigh that trembled, a terrible hitch in his throat that echoed like a melancholy scream as she fought off the urge to shout, to claw at him, to turn him into a dirty mutt so he could finally feel how she felt. "We almost lost you kid. I almost lost you and I can't- I can't let that happen, not after Sarah."

"You can't lose what you've never had."

She was seething, the words spat slow through gritted teeth, choking her on her own stifling rage that burned her right through, to carcass and ash. She'd used to pray for love, her knees raw and burnt, repenting for sins she'd committed and would commit, pray for any kind of salvation, that her mother would come back for her, that her father would hold her, but all she was given was more torment, hate and rage shoved down her begging throat. She was nothing, she'd been born from nothing and had remained just so and it was all of their fault, it was all his fault...it was all hers and she knew it too, but she was so tired of hating herself, she needed someone new.

"Guess I deserved that."

"You deserve nothing, nothing but a punch to your fat head." Blair snarled in brimming contempt, wishing that she was anywhere other than here as she could practically heard his shallow breathing in her ear as the windows fogged up around her. God, how had she not seen it? Really? Everytime she'd got in trouble, even before grams died it was Hopper that would get her out of it when the people she'd break would try and press charges, seeking some kind of righteousness punishment instead of a slap against the wrist, but it had never happened...coming to her after the funeral, taking her in after they found Eleven, all of it.

"What do you want from me here, kid? You want me to apologise? To just fucking sit here and take it? I am sorry that-"

"Would you of even told me? If we weren't fucking seconds away from dying? I was practically living with you for an entire year and you never thought to fucking mention that I came from your shitting ball-sack? That's a pretty key bit of fucking information-" For months she had been there like a mocking phantom cursed to haunt his home, sitting beside him on the couch, cooking in his kitchen, and listening to his music with Eleven by her side. And she couldn't help but wonder how it stung, how it hurt that when she thought he'd chosen to love her, to take one look at her scars and her rage and take her in despite it...only to find out it was through nothing more than obligation.

"Hey! Do not take that tone with me-"

But it was then that Blair finally noticed, finally found her chance at salvation, her gaze catching onto a familar jackass of a car parked just outside the school...and that huge head of hair that she would know even blinded, probably even in death and at the end of the world as Harrington pressed against the gas pedal, about to desert the emptying parking lot and she didn't hesitate, didn't dare when she was being suffocated in a pool of her own hatred and longing, didn't even think about it when she forced the truck door open and just ran like hell itself was chasing after her, ignoring the calls of her name with a desperation that struck her dumb.

As she yanked Harrington's car open and slammed it shut behind her, slumping down in the seat and panting for breath with her head in between her legs, aching and in agony and just fucking hurting.

"Jesus, Jones. Where the hell did you come from? Almost give me a damn heart attack." Steve snapped, pressing against the breaks roughly as it jerked to a stop with his heart dropping down to his fucking asshole, finally tearing his gaze away from where it had been possessed by Nancy Wheeler to look down at the witch being cradled by the shadow of his seat. One day, he'd like one fucking day where he wasn't scared shitless or haunted by the still living ghost that was suddenly sitting beside him, not even sparing him a customary hello, just plopping her ass right down on his seat without a care in the fucking world to probably ruin his night.

...Yet there was only silence, a very long drawn out silence from the girl currently curled in on herself in his car, hair hanging over her face and crowded against the window like some eldritch horror, as he kept glancing over towards her with varying expressions of unease, awkwardly pursing his lips and drumming his palms against the steering wheel, just waiting for her biting comments that would actually reassure him at this point. "You good, Jones? Cause you're starting to freak me out, man. "

However, once again there was just nothing, nothing at all, just a thick quiet that felt like it would never break the longer it seemed to drag on. What the fuck is going on? He mouthed to himself, face twisting in as he genuinely questioned reality for a few moments, waiting for something to just break so he could finally breathe, opening his mouth to say something, to say anything to stop the madness...his jaw slammed shut as he heard the soft sniffles drowning the space, the raspy breathing-the way she trembled, clutching at herself with scarred fingers and- shit. "Hey...hey, wait, are you crying- hey Blair, come on, look at me-"

And it was then that she finally looked at him, large eyes shining in the shadow of the looming moon, a certain ugliness in the blotchiness of her painted red flesh and the haunting beauty that came with the vulnerability of pain, and it was all just wrong. He swore, feeling the way it broke through the air like a goddamn knife, before he was awkwardly fumbling around with his seat belt, yanking at it to just fucking open so he could do something other than sit there with his hand outstretched towards her...only to viciously pull in back after she sobbed, one heaving hiccup that was so inhumanly loud that it had him flinching away.

"Okay, hey okay, okay, this is fine, this is totally- You know what, I uh, I could- uh-"

"Shut the fuck up, Harrington. Just stop talking, that's all I fucking need from you right now just- sh." She snapped, feeling the words seethe from her teeth like thick acid...and then she felt like absolutely shit for being such a dick as she desperately tried to catch her breath that kept escaping her, again and again and again. Everything was hurting, her head, her hands, her heart, it was all too much and it was poisoning her, ruining her completely and she needed to just give herself a moment to think...or to come up with a plan to fake her death that didn't involve bringing Hopper down with her.

"But-"

"Do I look like a fucking horse to you or something, prick features? No? Then stop riding my fucking ass." She was going to fucking kick him, she was going to kick his lanky ass out of his own car if he didn't leave her in peace for just one moment and yes, she was aware of her own nasty audacity, but that wasn't going to be enough to fucking stop her. And it didn't help that she could still see him, still see her so called old man sitting in his truck, his head resting on the back of his arms that dangled over his steering wheel, feeling his fucking pain like it was her own, like it was where it belonged.

"Jesus christ. Yeah- okay. Yep, I'm- mhm." Steve forced his gaze away, tongue digging into the side of his cheek as he drummed his fingers against his thighs, awkward and annoyed and vibrating under his skin as he stared out ahead of himself, unblinking while the dark glared back. Fuck my life, he thought quietly, his lips pursed and really not knowing just what he was supposed to be feeling in this situation...other than wanting. Because he wanted to be kind, he wanted her to be kinder, he wanted to leave his own car, he wanted her to stay where he could see her to make sure she didn't explode and take the whole of Hawkins with her.

...He didn't want her to be sad alone.

Unawares of the turmoil beside her, Blair was still in the throngs of a madness that maimed her, in the hate that cradled her, grunting beneath her breath as everything raced, her heart, her head, her hatred, calming herself slowly as she fought the urge to fucking hurt. How could she not when she'd finally figured out what had been her role in life if she hadn't been what she was, a witch, a curse, death itself if she so wished it...she could of been an echo, perhaps a punishment for all of his shortcomings, or nothing more than a unwanted spare for the daughter he'd loved and lost.

Her eyes fluttered open finally, red-timmed and dark and flickering with something vile as a trembling sigh slipped through her parted lips, feeling the way it rattled inside her ribcage as the air stilled from where it had felt alive in her consuming need to be fury made human instead of that bastard fragility that could never be, because there could be nothing gentle about her, she could never be made for that, she could only ever be rage. "...You want a milkshake?"

Steve paused, running a hand through hid hair as he stared out of the same window she did, sitting just beside her in the drivers seat, unable to do anything other than think on just how fucked his life had become. Before he shrugged quietly, leaning down to twist the ignition key between his fingers as the car rumbled to life around them once more, warmth streaming in that settled into flesh and bone to make its home there as the witch grunted, pressing her head back against the head-rest as everything inside her vibrated. "Only if you promise not to throw up in my car."

"That was one fucking time."

"Not it was uh, it was multiple, actually. Spead over the course one night. So, you know, almost."

What a fucking asshole...but she was smiling and she could feel it too, felt the way her skin tried to stretch, the way her eyes stung as the apples of her cheeks pulled them up, felt the way it hurt to do anything other than sit there and cry and hunger for something soft to sink her ever cruel teeth into and leave scars to prove herself of her own cursed existence. And it was strange, weird, horrible really, that it was Steve fucking Harrington that had done that, that had actually made her almost feel human instead of anything but as she rolled her eyes, pretending to sneer as she glanced towards him. "I hate you."

"No you don't." He scoffed, and once again, there it was, that tiny grin that tugged at his lips, as he meet her gaze, just for a moment, a simple split second as he shook his head while she forced herself to look out of the window, hiding another one to herself, and only to herself as they drove off...she'd solve her discretions another day, for now, she was going to get a milkshake and pretend for a night, pretend that she was nothing more than a teenage girl.