༉˚*ೃ ᵒ⁶. 𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍!

"𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐙𝐘, this is crazy," the boy was still chanting as they pulled up into a driveway, clearly still trying to rationalise or understand what had just happened. Sar was trying to do that too, sitting numbly and rubbing at her temples with her index fingers. Shit, it still hurt. The house they stopped at was nice, to say the least. Clearly expensive. Two—three?—stories, built with pale wood, windows and every angle, and a small single-story extension to their left. The front double-doors were a shade of mahogany. All lights inside were off.

          "Yeah," was all Sar could agree. The boy's hands curled anxiously through her unruly mass of brunet hair. Sar was resting her head against the window, still trying to calm her heart. The blood from her nose had slowed to a dribbling, drying halt, which curved over her lips. She was much too deep in thought to wipe it away.

          The boy turned the car off, his hands shaky. Behind them were large streetlamps, clearly being in a more residential section of town now. They weren't flickering, and Sar felt reassured. Surely that meant something. Both teenagers were still breathing heavily, even as the boy said, "You think we're safe?"

          Tentatively, almost painfully, Sar stretched out her mind. She felt wildly comforted to feel the boy's next to her own, to be aware of those in houses a few hundred metres down. Not like that place she'd been, which had been so... nothing. And Sar still felt that presence here, that corruption of darkness in Hawkins, but it was back where they'd left it. The monster wasn't anywhere close by. "... Yeah," she breathed, still feeling woozy, and opened the car door.

          Sar practically slid out of it, staggering down to her knees on the driveway. Her fingers came out to stop her from totally hitting the ground, and the boy made a noise of surprise. In the chaos of it all, she'd left her sneaker behind in the woods. Now, her right foot ached intensely through the sock. When she staggered uneasily to her feet, Sar wasn't surprised to see a bloody footprint left behind on the pavement, soaked right through her sock. Ah, shit. The girl resorted to holding her leg up tenderly, leaning against the frame of the car.

          She jumped as the car door slammed, and boy stood shakily at her side. "Are... are you alright?" He didn't reach out for her, he must have been way too afraid, and confused, and thinking 'what the fuck?' at everything that had just gone down, but he did look worried as she sagged a little against the side of the BMW. Again, he ran his fingers through his hair. Now, it was all mussed up. No longer perfectly preened and hair-sprayed.

          "Mhmm," murmured Sar, turning from where she'd been leaning her forehead against the car's roof to look back and over at him. Her eyes were exhausted, she had blood under her nose. "Just tired, and in shock, and freaked the fuck out, I think." At her words, the boy turned back to look at the road they'd came.

          Then, his face glanced towards her. She could see in his eyes that he was still trying to process everything—what had just happened. It was a lot. Sar could hardly begin to process it, and she knew about Hawkins' dark side. Both of their gazes still reflected fear. It was a bit like a mirror. After another nervous stare at the road, he said, "I'm Steve." He reached a hand out to her, expecting her to shake it. "Steve Harrington."

          Sar straightened her body, still slumped a bit with exhaustion, and took his hand. "I'm Sar." They shook it briefly, both their hands clammy and a bit shaky.

          Steve raised an eyebrow. "Sar...?"

          "Just Sar." She put her hands in her pockets. It was as shaky an introduction as ever. Reasonable, really, for the shit they'd just experienced. For a moment, they just stood, nerves still clearly alight with adrenaline, and fear, and the fight or flight response.

          A loud, jarring noise came from their left: a metallic bang. The two teenagers half jumped out of their skin, immediately spinning towards the noise and backing up a few steps. Sar hardly even felt the pain in her foot. Instead of the monster, a raccoon tumbled out of the trashcan at the edge of the driveway. It looked at them with eyes glowing in the moonlight, chittered and hissed offensively, before it took off in a scramble down the street. Sar's heart was crashing around her chest. She was way too highly strung with now. Mouth parted, her gaze across the dark street. Then her eyes cut towards the house they were parked out in front of. "Is— is this your house?" She stumbled over her words.

          He nodded quickly, looking even more afraid, turning to her. "Yeah. We... we should get in, in case that... that thing is still out here." He put his hand on her shoulder, likely without even thinking, glanced back out over the street as he turned her towards the house. To be honest, Sar didn't really process it either. Both were in way too much shock. Then they walked quickly up towards the door. Sar limped a little now, but the pain still hadn't fully set in. The closer they got to that mahogany front door, the quicker they began to walk. Neither dared to look behind them. Hearts pounding. Then, they were on the brink of running, as fear, and fear, and fear crept up their throats. It was like, turning off the last lights in your corridor, and walking back to your bedroom faster and faster, as the feeling that something is following you creeps up and up, until you're so afraid that all you can do is run.

          When they reached the front door, and the boy fumbled out his keys, Sar immediately turned wide-eyed back to the road. It was that fear, again, half expecting it to be standing in the driveway, a dark silhouette against the streetlight. With its crooked limbs and long body, fingers that nearly grazed the ground. It wasn't. The driveway was empty, and her spine leant against the door as Steve unlocked it. The door clicked, swung open inwards. Steve ducked inside, and Sar immediately fell in behind him, desperate to not be left out in the darkness alone. Steve slammed the door behind them, and instantly turned on the lights.

          Both of them exhaled loudly. Sar bent over on her knees, bracing her hands against them, never feeling so glad to be inside four walls. She still had her backpack slung on her arm, had barely even noticed its weight. Steve, on the other hand, had both his hands on his hair and seemed to be stretching up in a motion of pure nerves, exasperated face turned towards the ceiling as he gripped his brown roots. Then he ran his hands over his face. "I don't— I don't even know where to start."

          Sar rubbed her thumb over her mouth, an anxious action. "I have no idea. I'm so..." She didn't know where to begin. "Are... are we alone, here?" The lights in the rest of the home were off, and it was making Sar feel even more edge. If she looked just hard enough down the corridor, into what must have been a kitchen, she could imagine something faceless and gangly looking back at her...

          "My parents aren't around, if that's what you mean." Every word he spoke had a nervous jilt to them. "They're... out at business, this month. So yeah, it's just us." That made Sar feel worse. She'd rather be stuck with some random weirdo parents than alone in a massive, strange house. What if that thing got in here.

          "I don't... I don't have a house to head back to," Sar admitted suddenly. Her back was now pressed up against the door again, still breathing heavily. Calm down, heart. "I'm from Chicago. I just got here, like, an hour ago." Nervousness was bleeding into her words. "On the bus. And then... that thing..." Sar watched out of the corner of her eye as the boy fidgeted with nerves still, going from mussing up his hair to twisting his fingers. "I have nowhere to go. I was going to go to the motel, but I... There's no way I'm going out there again." She felt a bit guilty, but Sar was not leaving this fucking house. She was not. He could tell her to get out of it as much as he wanted, but she'd sleep in his fucking shed if he had to. She was not going out on her own again.

          Surprisingly, Steve didn't seem to immediately try to make her leave. "You just got here on the bus?"

          "I was— I was walking to town, you know, by the woods. It's a long story, but that thing started to chase me. I just... Why were you out there?" She was rambling, shit.

          Steve groaned, "I was going to visit my girlfriend. Her parents hate me, so I parked a bit away and was going to cut through the woods to her place. It wasn't supposed to be that far, I got fucking lost and then tracked back to my car and then headed off again thinking I knew where her street was but—" Apparently, he was a rambler too. His fingers shoved up through his hair. "Like you said, long story. I probably should have just taken the risk with her parents."

          "Well, I'm glad you didn't." Sar wrapped her arms around herself. "If you hadn't been there with your car, I probably would've..." She swallowed, and didn't finish her thought. That same paralysing fear was shocking over her now. Holy shit, I really almost died. She stood anxiously, like frightened prey. Like a flittering bird.

          Steve gestured with a finger towards her face. "You're bleeding. Did you hit yourself?" Despite the way he was still breathing heavily, his face showed genuine concern.

          Realising that she still had dried blood under her nose, Sar hastily wiped at it. "Shit. No, it's just... something that happens." It was crusted on her fingers. "Nose bleeds, y'know?" He wouldn't know.

          He nodded, still afraid, and rolled back on his heels nervously to look back around his home. "I've gotta... Wanna check the place with me? To... You know, to make sure nothing gets in." Sar nodded along, mouth parted frightenedly, and trailed behind him as they started a scan of his house.

         Sar had no idea who this Steve Harrington was, but she was right in that his family must have been rich. It wasn't much coming from her, but Sar knew what expensive looked like. That television, the radio in his living room, the professional posed photographs of Steve with his parents on the mantle. Sar only looked at it briefly—Steve clearly took after his father, they had the same chiselled jaw, the same eyes, but he definitely got his hair from his mom. Then, she moved on. It was obvious how much everything cost. Especially when she caught a glimpse out of the back window, seeing a pool with a matching pool house and deck chairs. It must have been a pretty big house for a dead-end town like this.

          They moved through each room, flicking on the lights, until the entire house was totally lit up. Then, they divided and conquered. Sar walked around making sure all the windows on the lower floor were locked, and sliding the blinds closed. She tried not to stare too long outside. If she did, she'd start to see shapes that her mind conjured up to frighten her. A part of her wanted to barricade each of the doors, but she thought Steve's parents probably wouldn't be too happy with that, whenever they returned. Still, Sar felt incredibly uneasy as she made sure the back door was locked three times, and left it unbarricaded.

          Steve did the same at the other side of the house, and they met back up in the kitchen, where he was hastily tapping his fingers against the marble counters.

          Stranger danger was the number one rule. Don't let strangers into your homes. Both teenagers had seemed to make an unspoken exception in these circumstances, since it hadn't yet been spoken about. He looked up as she entered through the doorway. Sar knew she must have looked just about as frazzled as he did. Her eyes were parted wide, lips bitten raw, and there was still a bit of dried blood beneath her nose. Not to mention she was still covered in drying slime, and her hair was a ragged mess. "I double-checked everything, it's all locked and closed up," she said, surprised at the hoarseness of her voice.

          They both jumped as a tree branch scraped at a window of the house, wide-eyed gazes snapping towards the direction of the sound. They looked like deer in headlights. Just waiting for something to burst in and kill them. "Good." Sar resisted the urge to triple-check it all. "My... my room is upstairs. We should check up there."

          Sar nodded, firmly. Her hands were clenched in fists at her side. The monster had almost torn off the roof of Steve's car, she really didn't want to think about what it could do to any of the windows, even despite the locks. When Steve pushed away from the counter and crossed the room, Sar jumped to attention. She found herself sticking right behind him, as he walked up the staircase, almost glued to his back as the watched carefully behind him. Too anxious, she thought to herself, but couldn't swallow the feeling. For a moment, they were in blackness. God, Sar hated it. Then Steve reached automatically out and flicked on the landing lights. Instantly, Sar felt safer. It didn't cancel out the fact that she was almost clinging to him, and him to her.

          They navigated the upstairs. Steve went around once again turning on all the lights—this boy's electricity bill was going to be off the charts—and Sar went around locking windows. From landing, to room to room. Steve went after her to double-check. They finished in what must have been Steve's bedroom. It was pretty big for a teenager's room, strewn with books, miscellaneous items, and study notes. The wallpaper was God-awful, but you couldn't have everything. He hastily kicked some clothes aside.

          Clearly, he hadn't been expecting visitors. His curtains matched his wallpaper, she recognised. Other than that, it was pretty void of anything remarkable. Sar would expect a boy's room to have film or music posters, or sports items, or anything of the sort. She stood there awkwardly for a moment. What were the protocols for something like this? Her head ached.

          "So, Chicago, huh?" asked Steve. His blinds were secured shut, but he checked them just once again.

          Sar nodded, "Yeah."

          His brows furrowed. "You don't have an accent." He was trying to figure her out, she could tell, glancing over her.

          Sar fidgeted, and took to sitting in the chair at his desk. He took a seat opposite from her, on his bed. "No, I'm actually from here, originally. That's why I've come back."

          "Oh shit, really?" He sounded a bit light-hearted at the prospect. "Coming home?"

          Her teeth sunk into her lip. Sar looked much too nervous for the idea of her being happy to be here to stick in Steve's mind. "Something like that." She looked down at her lap, fiddling with her fingers. "So, um, that thing... Is that, like... normal, around here?" Was it just them, or had other people seen it too?

          They sat there in tentative silence for a few seconds. Then, Steve hesitantly told her, "Kids have been going missing recently." That struck something inside of her, she looked up with eyes impossibly wide. It took her a second to calm down—understanding that it probably had something more to do with the monster than it did with Hawkins Lab abducting more children. "But no, that thing's... not normal. I've never..." Steve inhaled, composed himself. "So, do you think these missing kids have to do with that creature?"

          "Maybe. When did they disappear?"

          "It's just two, in the past week. Some little kid called Will, he was like... eleven. The other girl, she was our age, Barb. Actually, the last place anyone saw her was... here." He looked worried.

          Sar's gaze fell. "Probably. But we'd have to look more into it. I mean—it could just be a coincidence." She didn't really mean it, the hopefulness of her words didn't meet her eyes.

          Another moment of silence lapsed between them. "Hey, um... There's a shower and bath in the bathroom up here, if you want." He pointed out to the corridor. Sar's eyes were trained on him as she tossed around the possibilities, tapping her finger against the shoeless foot. "And then, I'll shower after you. And I'm sure I can find some spare clothes, if you need." Sar frowned, a little.

          She snaked into his mind. Sar hated doing that—it made her feel foul, tapping into people's thoughts, their innermost secrets. Usually, she tried to stay at surface-level, when using them to get her way. And yet, even as she looked into his consciousness, Sar knew that none of his intentions were ill towards her. This boy was afraid, and worried, and didn't want to hurt her. Sar withdrew her abilities immediately, standing as she exhaled. She was still covered with slime, splashed with a bit of blood—some from her nose, others from small cuts across her palms and face. Her foot was still bleeding. Shit. "Sounds good," she said. "And, it's okay," she held up her backpack. It had been torn at one edge, but still seemed to be in a somewhat decent condition. "I've got a pair of clothes in here." There was a single nightgown, and a change of clothes for the next day, but after that she'd need to get some more.

          Steve noticed her limp as she stood, glancing down at her foot. "Hey, do you need help with that? I can find some bandages."

          She lifted it off the grey carpet, the pain really beginning to set in now. A wince appeared on her features. "I can just wash it off in the water." It most definitely wasn't the most sanitary, but Sar had been through worse. Way, way worse.

          Steve nodded, pointed towards the bathroom again. "There's a spare towel in the cupboard in there—the bottom one." His hair, which had been completely messed out of its meticulously hair-sprayed mass, had gone all floppy.

          "Thanks," murmured Sar in response, taking her backpack with her as she limped out into the corridor and into the bathroom across from Steve's door. She was half hopping, the pain really starting to sting now. Shit. The moment her lone sock touched the freezing cold tiles, pain shot up through her injured foot, causing her to withdraw it instantly. Balancing on one leg, Sar pulled out the towel that Steve had mentioned and hung it up beside the bathtub. She shut the door behind her.

          Sar decided to pull her sock off first. It came away bloody and torn, revealing the mess underneath. Her foot was in a much worse condition than she'd expected. The skin at the bottom had been worn away, leaving a bloody mess of ragged skin behind. Jagged lines had been slashed from all the stumbling over sticks she'd done, and a small section down by her heel had been torn nearly to ribbons. Even Sar, who was typically good with this kind of thing, felt a little ill at the sight. Perhaps she would have to follow Steve up on those bandages after all.

          Inhaling sharply through her nose and steeling herself, Sar turned on the bath tap. She let the water run warm before tentatively cupping it in her hands and pouring it onto the open wound. A sharp wince overcame her features, teeth sinking into the side of her lip. The painful stinging sensation shot up through her foot and all the way up her calf. A swirl of red disappeared down the drain. Sar continued in the motion, trying to be gentle as she let water run over the wound, and as she rubbed some dirt out with her thumb and forefinger. Her hands were shaking a little as she did so. After a while, it was pretty clear that this wound was as clean as she was going to get it. The colour of the water had returned mostly clear again.

          Only then did Sar strip herself of her clothes, her injured foot still hooked over the bathtub. She precariously shoved the plug into the bathtub's drain and tried not to fall. Once the bath was filled with warm water, the girl slipped in. She kept her injured foot out of it, now, trying to let it dry. It'd definitely need to be bandaged—she'd underestimated the extent of the injury. The water, deliciously hot, soothed her at least. It relaxed her tensed muscles, let her exhale in relief for the first time that night—no longer so highly-strung about the creature they'd seen in the woods. Her body uncoiled from its stress gently, until she realised just how very tired she was. She could fall asleep right now.

          Sar submerged her hair, letting the blonde locks float around her skull, trying to rinse it as well as she could without overstepping and using Steve's shampoo. Then, knees still propped up in the crammed tub, Sar slipped beneath the surface of the water, eyes squeezed closed.

          She stayed like that for a moment, trying to rid the rest of her anxiety from her system. The world was quiet underwater. As if there no monster in the deep dark woods, no Hawkins Lab, and no child experiments running amuck. It was just her, floating, the sound of the water in her ears. It was strangely peaceful.

          Before her lungs started to ache, Sar lifted her head once again, ran her wet hands across her face. Exhaustion was really beginning to set in. She sat in the water with her knees brought up to her chest. Her wet hair was lying slick across her back. With her eyes closed, she kept seeing glimpses of the monster: tall and gangly, all twisted up, mouth open wide and saliva dripping from its jaws. Her mind replaying those same scenes over and over.

          Sar exhaled. She ran her fingers over her face again for good measure, before crossing her arms and dropping her chin onto her knees. Sar felt clean, and warm, and she no longer had a headache rattling her skull. The slow dripping of the tap behind her was calming her right down—that repetitive, soft sound. She stayed sat there even as the bathwater started to cool down her skin. And Sar's mind ran.

          Here she was: in this hell hole she'd once known as a kind of home. She'd promised herself, promised everyone that she'd never go back, and here she was. She thought of it as water dripped down her forehead and off her long lashes. Sar felt like she'd only just been beginning to make a life for herself—as hollow and lonely that truly was—and here she'd fallen right back into all of it again. The laboratory, their immoral experiments and screw-ups that were going to now effect the wider town. She thought of James, of the boy who she'd come to know as a brother, and of the girl they were trying so desperately to protect. She thought of the other children they'd left behind. And she thought of the monster.

          She didn't want to have to investigate this thing. She didn't want to have to go back to the lab. She didn't want things to change. She didn't want to think about how there was another world out there, linked to monsters and missing kids and a hell of a lot of bloodshed. She didn't want to think about how it was connected to all of them, about what they were, and what they could do, and how they were raised. She didn't want any of this.

          So why was she here?

          And Sar wished it could be as simple as that she was simply determined to set things right. That she was simply a good-doer. But that would be a lie. And Sar had lived too many lies in her lifetime.

          So, Sar didn't want things to change. She wished she could just go back to Chicago, to living in ignorant bliss and hiding from every ghost of the past that had ever haunted her. But she couldn't. And things were never going to go back to the way they once were. She didn't want things to change—but things that don't bend, snap.

༉*ೃ༄

NOTE FROM PRESENT: this is your introduction to sar as a vessel of guilt. she has so, so, so much love, but she's so filled with guilt and pain and regret too. ik this is a steve fic but, NO, this is SAR's fic and we're gonna watch her grow, and love, and maybe, eventually, heal. i hope you fall in love with her the way i have.

also, i edited this rewritten chapter while soft resetting for a shiny snivy starter on my pokemon b/w replay. have been doing it for 2 days now and gonna name it kyoshi whenever i finally get it! :)

word count: 4,198

originally posted, 22.12.2017.

revised and rewritten, 07.11.2020.