chapter five

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WARNING ABUSE!

   DEENA RITCHIE HATED her father with every bone in her body. It wasn't the kind of hate where she just didn't like him, she wasn't going through that stage all teenagers go through when they say they 'hate' their parents. No, she genuinely hated him. If he was on fire, she wouldn't call the fire department, she wouldn't try to put it out, instead, she'd stand and watch him burn. If some vicious, instant killing snake somehow made its way into the trailer she would lock him in a room with it. She hated him. It was as simple as that.

    Unfortunately for Deena, she had two free periods and nothing to do, so it wasn't like she could go anywhere until she actually had school — she was stuck at home, yet again cleaning up her father's mess. Mr. Ritchie was a drunk to put it plain and simple; a terrible, awful drunk.

    He wrecked havoc everywhere he went, leaving a path of destruction behind him. It was as though he cursed everyone he knew, his presence leaving a dark, bitter stain on their hearts — as if everyone he touched he turned into nothing but a mere pile of dust, ready to be brushed away.

    Deena just so happened to be one of the victims to his misery — that's why at any chance she could, she stayed in the comfort that was the Henderson home, the Henderson's made her realise what real family was like, what it was like to have someone to count on. That's why she was so grateful of Alexandra, Dustin and Claudia, they let her into their home whenever needed, no questions asked.

    But today, she didn't get that comfort she sought. Alexandra was at school, working on the project with Steve, much to her distain, Dustin was also at school and Claudia was out, so she was stuck at home with her father.

    A sigh reverberated through her lungs as she inhaled the last of her cigarette before tossing it out the open window besides her, she pushed her body off of the window ledge and left her small, cramped bedroom, making her way into the sad excuse of a living room.

    There the man himself sat slumped on a chair, he must've snuck in during the middle of the night, a bottle of cheap beer from the convenience store around the corner was held tightly in his hand, she knew for certain that wasn't his first drink of the night — especially since she could smell the vodka radiating off of him from where she stood. Deena's father, if she could even go as far to call him that, was an asshole. Every night on repeat he was out, stumbling back home in the early morning of the next day, and today had been no different.

    Denna let out a tired, agitated huff as she moved to pick up the empty, discarded beer bottles up from the floor. The flashing lights of the Tv shone back at her as her father mindlessly lifted the bottle of beer to his lips, not taking his eyes off the television screen. "House is a mess, make sure you clean that shit up." His voice was gruff, a slight accent hidden behind the words.

    She rolled her eyes, I am dipshit, she wanted to say, but nonetheless kept her mouth shut, she knew that talking back to him would not benefit her, so she strayed away from doing so.

    But today had appeared to not be her day, her father seemed to be in a mood and her silence only egged him on. He turned back to look at her from his place on the armchair and pulled a face, "What? You got nothin' to say?" Deena merely remained silent, no matter if she spoke or not the outcome would be bad. "You were late home last night, place was a tip." He spoke gruffly, reaching down the side of the armchair to grab another bottle of beer from the six pack that resided on the floor.

    "Alex needed help on a project, I stayed back at hers to give her a hand." The lie slipped out easily as she moved into the open kitchen and grabbed a black bin bag, tossing the empty bottles into the bag.

    A scoff left her father's lips and he toyed with the bottle in hand, eyes still not leaving the screen before him. "I don't give a fuck if Alex was on her last goddamn breath, when I give you a curfew you get your ass home."

    Again, she said nothing. She knew better than to speak the words that so desperately wanted to slip past her tongue, but she refrained from doing so — a mere, "Okay," left her lips and that was that, but her words and actions of obedience did nothing to calm her nerves, it did nothing to put that nauseating feeling brewing in the pit of her stomach to rest.

    Mr. Ritchie hummed in approval and nodded to himself, tipping his head back as he let the last of the bitter liquid slide down his throat, he then dropped it to the floor — expecting Deena to clean up after him, which she did. When she was finally facing him he took it as a start to question her. "How's school?" He asked, picking up another bottle from the pack on the ground as he watched her grip the empty bottle in hand.

    "Fine," Deena answered wryly.

    The man rose a single brow, a malicious look etched onto his features. "Fine, hm? So, how come I'm getting calls from a Miss. Clack or somethin'?"

    Deena froze in place just for a moment. Shit. "Oh? What'd she say?" She feigned innocence.

    "Said you and Alex keep skipping her classes. Says that you're bad influences on each other. I told you to stop hanging around that bitch and you didn't listen. Where'd that get you, huh?"

    "It was just one lesson," Deena dismissed with a careless shrug of her shoulders. "Besides, I'm doing alright in her class-"

"Yeah?" Her father rose his brows, taking another sip of his beer. "What you gettin' A's or some shit?"

"B." Her voice sank as that gnawing feeling in the pit of her stomach grew.

The man merely nodded, another hum of approval being sent her way. "What about your other subjects? Chemistry, French and all that shit?"

"Uh — I-I think it was an A in, um, French and a, uh, B in econ." She mumbled out, busying herself with cleaning, her hands stuttered as she picked up empty bottles and cigarette butts.

"Okay. And Chemistry?"

She glanced over at her father, straightening her back. "I'm not sure," she told him with a small shake of her head.

"You ain't lyin' to me, right Deen's? 'Cause I ain't raised no goddamn liar," he stated, bringing his drink up to his lips once again, watching her closely.

A simple shake of her head was her only response.

"Well, then tell me your grade." His tone was patronizing, like he could see right through the lies that slipped past her mouth.

"It's-It's a D," she replied reluctantly, not meeting his eye.

He bit the inside of his cheek, tipping his head back as he emptied out the last droplets of beer, letting it slide down his throat. He nodded to himself repeatedly, the silence in the room growing louder and louder as the seconds went by. Deena's heart drummed loudly in her ears, booming against her earsdrums like a ticking time bomb when suddenly, a loud shatter echoed through her brain and she ducked instinctively, but it came to no avail.

The sting on her cheek, just under her eye, was prominent and before she had chance to scramble away, her father was in her face. "You fuckin' lying to me, now? Huh?" He screamed in her face, making her flinch. Demogorgon's and the secrets within Hawkins didn't terrify her, but her father? Her father scared her shitless.

His hand wrapped around her throat, cutting off her airways as he shook her harshly, her head collided with the wall, a loud thump echoing across the room as he got in her face. "Huh?" He asked again, voice raising, jaw clenched. "You an' your fuckin' mother, always spittin' shit! I ain't raised no goddamn liar, Deena. You think you can fuckin' lie to me?"

He released his hold on her, harshly shoving her to the ground. Her hands subconsciously shot out before her, bracing her fall — but it only did so much, the sting on her palms pumped through her whole body as the shards of glass collided with her skin.

Mr. Ritchie dragged his hand down his face and pointed a grimy finger down at her, "This is your fault, you know that? and clean that shit up before I get back. If you even think about lyin' to me again, I swear to God Deena-" The man in question didn't even finish his sentence before he stormed out of the trailer door, leaving his daughter on the ground, alone.

A tremendous shake pulsated through her entire body as she pushed herself up from the floor, behind her gritted teeth a harsh wince formed. She swallowed roughly as she stumbled over to the crooked mirror on the wall, she grimaced as she noticed the shard of glass lodged between her skin.

Just as she went to pull the glass out, a loud bang on the door echoed through the trailer, the Ritchie teen jumped in place and muttered under her breath, "Fuck." She paused before calling out, "Just a minute!"

She turned back to the mirror and clamped her teeth shut slightly as she slowly pulled the glass from her skin, her eyes were strained as she tried to keep the tears at bay. Her breathing fell shallow as it escaped her mouth in harsh forms, while she braced her hand against the cool skin of her forehead, it did nothing to calm her — only further irritate her, causing her to heat up at an uncomfortable rate and a wave of nausea entwined with the lower pits of her stomach.

The constant ringing of her father's voice in her head and the feel of his hands on her stuck, leaving her feeling utter disgust, a sob clawed at the back of her throat, itching to escape from the cell she had seemed to lock it in. Another bang reverberated through the house as unknown knuckles collided with the broken, brass door. Deena quickly ran her hands across her face, just under her eye, putting to bed any trace of tear marks and hurriedly turned away from the mirror before she began to pull apart her appearance.

It felt like her heart was about to plummet out of her body considering how fast it was beating — and at this point, she wouldn't mind it, that way she'd be freed from the taunting, the pain and her father. Even just the thought of that, being free from it all, brought her a sense of relief, though that did next to nothing to calm her down, her hands still shook uncontrollably as she wrapped a hand around the cheap door handle.

She felt fearful of who would be revealed at the other side of the door, while she knew it wasn't her father, she dreaded that he had forgotten something or that he was not finished with letting his scorching anger out on his daughter. But, ultimately, the whirlwind of fear slipped from her body like sand through an hourglass as she opened the door, revealing Jim Hopper.

Unbeknown to her, she let out a relieved sigh at the gruff sight of the man. His Chief's hat sat comfortably on his head, cigarette held nimbly between his lips, usual scowl etched on his face — though it dropped as he caught sight of her in front of him.

It was like a routine for them, Hopper knew that her father was a drunk asshole; he had arrested him a handful of times before ( even going as far as punching him right across the jaw when needed ). He knew Mr. Ritchie hurt Deena more than she claimed he did, but he couldn't do anything about it, as much as he wanted. He had no evidence to do so, if he just took her in and her father signed it off as her being 'missing' he could be fired, but upon seeing the small cut under her eye, smears of crimson hidden beneath the skin and the harsh, red hand marks around her neck he knew.

"Jesus." Was all he said around the cigarette between his lips before he lifted his hand and pinched it between his fingers, dropping it to the ground. His blue eyes dragged from her face and assessed the living area behind her, the rambles and excuses that fell from her lips went straight over his head as his eyes locked onto the broken glass cascading the cheap carpet.

"— It's nothing, Hopper, I dropped some glass when I was cleaning, that's all," Deena excused mindlessly, words coming out rushed as if she was trying to get rid of him, which she was. She didn't need him to file some form of complaint, because if he did, her father would merely get angry, and whenever he was angry, Deena was his personal target.

"Bullshit." Hopper replied, something hidden in his eyes as he looked down at her. "C'mon." He ushered, gesturing to Chevy Blazer sitting on the gravel outside of her trailer. "I'm sick of this shit, kid. You ain't stayin' here anymore."

He knew that this may have been stupid, in terms of El's safety, but he couldn't have Deena staying with her father any longer than she already had. No matter how many times over the years he had complained, he couldn't do anything upon the fact he didn't have any proof. No matter how much Mr. Ritchie paraded around the town with a stumble, acting like a drunk dick, it still didn't prove child endangerment.

But now? Hopper had seen enough and it was Deena. He could trust her to know about El, he could trust her to not say a word, leading to her safety being infiltrated. So, when she stood in the doorway with a dumbfounded look painted across her features the man let out a small eyeroll and pulled a face. "I haven't got all day Deena," he dragged out her name with a sarcastic glint to his tone — that alone made Deena feel ten times better, the fact that he hadn't changed his tone when speaking to her, or the fact that he hadn't given her pitiful glances or looked at her like she was a fragile piece of glass — ready to break at any given moment.

A weak smile pulled at her lips and she nodded her head in a small gesture of thanks and understanding, without looking back at the trailer she walked down the small steps, closing the door behind her. As she pulled the car door open, 'You Don't Mess Around With Jim' blurred through the speakers and a small chuckle left her lips, a smile tugged at Hopper's lips as he skidded out the trailer park and drummed his hands against the steering wheel, head bobbing along to the music.

He would talk to her about El later, warn her not to say anything to anyone ( including the blabber mouth that was Alexandra Henderson ), but right now, he just needed to ensure that she felt safe, that she knew he wasn't there to hurt her.

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    Alexandra's finger nails drummed irritably against the wooden desk she and Steve sat at. An eye roll formed as she watched his eyes wander behind her for what felt like the hundredth time that afternoon. It didn't take an idiot to figure out what, or rather, who, he was staring at.

    His hazel eyes locked onto Nancy Wheeler as she stood by the printer, talking to another student, the Wheeler girl caught his eye multiple times and she merely gave him a pointed stare, eyes drifting to the back of the Henderson girl's head.

    The, what Alex thought was, lost glances drove her crazy, which opted her to speak up, "She'll blow up if you stare at her anymore, Harrington and I'd rather not be covered in Nancy Wheeler's guts."

    Steve snapped out of his daze and drew his attention to the girl before him, he gave her a dumfounded stare. "I wasn't staring at her. Just, uh, saw something interesting is all . . . "

    "I'm sure." Alexandra trailed off with a deadpanned stare. "If you could divert your interest over to the work, that'd be great 'cause I sure as hell don't feel like doing this shit all by myself."

    The Harrington teen cleared his throat and nodded eccentrically. "Right. Yeah. Yeah, 'course. Uh, what're we doin' again?"

    Alexandra wanted to smack her head down against the table, but refrained from doing so as she'd end up with a gigantic bump on her head — no one wanted that. Instead, she slid the numerous sheets of paper over to him and leaned forward, pointing at the part with the tip of her pen.

    "We gotta say some shit about the fire in Reichstag. I don't know, I don't care, you do it."

    The boy huffed and gave her a sheepish smile. "Can I borrow your pen, I didn't bring one."

    The redhead in turn only rolled her eyes and reached down to her bag, pulling out a spare pen with a bored look on her face before she tossed it over to him. He murmured a small thanks in gratitude and hummed something to himself as he skimmed over the words already jotted down on the mases of paper.

    It wasn't long before his gaze fell upon Nancy, and yet again, Alex didn't fail to notice. "Jesus Christ. Go talk to her before I gauge my eyes out."

    "What? No." He acted oblivious, shaking his head in denial. "I didn't even realise she was there-"

    A scoff left Alexandra's lips. "You're full of shit, you know that? Talk to her or stop staring at her like a lost puppy or somethin'."

    "I don't need to talk to her. I have nothing to say to her," he shrugged, seemingly carelessly, though that was not the case.

    "Right . . . " Alex trailed off, putting to bed a conversation she definitely didn't want to have with Steve.

    "I'm, uh, we need a textbook . . . yeah. I'm gonna go and, um, look for that." He took the change of topic in stride and hurriedly rushed out of his seat, moving to the large, messy, bookcase behind them. Fumbling to find the correct book, his face lit up as the one he needed came into sight, he grasped it in hand, but as he pulled it another toppled down — the heavy hardcover landed right on his foot.

    "Mother fucker-" He strained, knee curling up as he cupped his foot in hand and winced at the feeling. Besides herself, Alex's lips tugged upwards into a light smile, a laugh fighting to break free. Steve turned to her, face scrunched together in light pain and it didn't take much for him to notice the chuckle wanting to break free from behind her hand, which covered her mouth.

    "I'm glad to know my pain is funny to you," he deadpanned, dropping his foot to the ground as he dramatically stumbled his way back over to her.

    "It is, its like my therapy," she nodded in agreement, sly smile now tugging at her lips freely.

    Steve jutted a hand out in her direction theatrically, "See, I don't need to talk to Nancy. Who needs affection when I have blind hatred right in front of me."

   Alexandra clicked her tongue, "For someone who doesn't wanna talk to or about her you sure do bring her up a lot. Are you obsessed with her or somethin'?" She lowered her tone, "Do I need to call Hopper? Is this one of those if I can't have you-" Her mocking tone was cut short as the Harrington narrowed his eyes at her and sent her a glare.

    "Shut up, dude. You brought her up, not me," he dismissed.

   "Only because you keep staring at her like a-"

    "Lost puppy, you said," he rolled his eyes.

    Alexandra held her hands up mockingly in surrender and paused, "Okay, sore subject, got it. Just hurry up and finish your bit so I can go, it's gonna rain soon and I seriously don't wanna walk in the rain."

    Steve glanced behind him at the large glass windows and his brows pulled together at the dark clouds slowly looming over Hawkins. "Deena not giving you a ride?"

    Alex shook her head in answer. "Her car's in the garage, so she's hitching a ride with someone from band."

    Lie. Not that Alexandra knew that, though. Deena had only told her that she was hitching a ride with someone from band so that Alex wouldn't find out she was staying with Hopper. After Deena had started to relax in the company of Hopper he had finally revealed to her what he was hiding — or who, he was hiding. She had promised not to tell anyone where she actually was, just in case Alex decided to sneak over one night, only to find El.

    "What about your car?"

    "My mom stole it for the day, said she's out buying shit for Mews and doesn't feel like walking with a thousand bags."

    "Oh." Steve muttered before he hesitantly met her eye. "You want a ride?"

    Alex pulled a face. "Erm, no."

    The Harrington boy merely rolled his eyes, "C'mon, Henderson. It's ten minutes of your life, it's not gonna kill you."

    "No, it won't kill me, but I might since I have to be near you too much."

    "Yeah, because I'm that bad of company."

    "See," Alex gestured over towards him. "We finally agree on something."

    "Ten minutes," he pointed out again. "I think you'll be fine."

    Alex sucked air through her teeth, tilting her head in contemplation. "I don't know, Harrington. I don't know if I can be around you any longer than I already have."

    "We've only been here an hour, Alex." Steve deadpanned.

    "Yeah," she spoke with an obvious tone. "That's too long for me."

    He scoffed sarcastically. "You know, you should count yourself lucky, plenty of other girls would love to be around Steve Harrington." He lowered his voice as he spoke his name, as though it was sacred.

    Alex's eyes widened scornfully, she leant towards him and her words came out as a whisper. "The Steve Harrington? King Steve? Fuck, I didn't even realise what an honour it was to be near you. I'll remember that next time. Gotta make sure I do my hair and make myself pretty."

    At her sarcastic words Steve rolled his eyes, "I think you just killed my ego."

    A sardonic, fake smile pulled at her lips. "My mission in life."

"You're a ray of sunshine, you know that?" His tone was ridiculing, he shot her a glare as he began to pack up the many sheets of paper from the project they had spent the last hour working on.

"Surprisingly, no," she played into it with a blank stare, lips rolling into her mouth.

"Right. C'mon before I ditch your ass and leave you to walk in the rain."

After another internal battle with herself, Alexandra began to grab the books that she needed and, not so gracefully, rammed them into her bag in a careless nature — following after Steve as he sauntered out of the library, diverting his eyes away from the short haired, curly brunette who was stood near the exit.

"And no smoking in my car, Henderson!" He turned back to the girl, finger jutted out in her direction, a pointed stare being held on his face.

She was so gonna smoke in his car.

AUTHOR'S NOTE !
all i gotta say is
two things about
this chapter:

deena's dad can
choke annnnd
alex is still in her
hating steve era dw