❝ and suddenly i'm an angel on the cutting room floor, wearing gore, a blank stare, not much more.❞
-daphne gottlieb
STRANGER THINGS SEASONS 2 - 4
。° fem oc x steve harrington
。° fem oc x robin buckley
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MELANIE LEE WAS A GIRL AFRAID OF MANY THINGS. Needles, fluorescent lights, and confined spaces sent her blood pressure soaring to new highs and corroded the inner workings of her brain. She was never a stranger to this feeling.
The color white was a headache that burned. Cold floors were the kind of mental exhaustion that threatened her sanity. That sterilized, burning scent of alcohol was a nosebleed she tasted on her tongue. It was always the same. A perpetual cycle, trickling its way through her unconscious mind until the terror became fully conscious, ripping up the comfortable life she thought was hers.
Looking back after that December day in 1983, it all made sense. And truthfully, she was both afraid and hopeful that the terror would never leave. Would she even be able to handle peace when unstable was all she could feel, and in the everlasting discord, all she was?
It didn't matter that the past was the past, existing now only in her memory, of which only she knew the fragility. No matter what she did, the impact reverberated on through her pounding heart like a bombshell. Its shrapnel embedded in the atria and turning to rust. The darkness seeped through her body like a disease, turning her blood to poison and all her organs to ash. Everything was turning numb, turning to stone.
Oh God, would she ever be in control?
･ﾟﾟ･༶･ﾟﾟ･
THE AIR HAD GONE MADDENINGLY COLD with November nighttime but she hadn't noticed.
Mel's feet pounded against uneven terrain. The soles of her shoes were becoming slick with the remnants of dew and gasoline on the grass. She shuddered thoughtlessly. All she could do was tighten her fingers around the cool metal of her golf club and run.
