Growing Pains| Eleven Hopper/Jane Hopper

xxiii. 𝐌𝐲 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥

Peter was headed back to where he came from before taking a turn to the school. He was gonna leave it alone but couldn't help himself, walking into the soccer field out back. For the first time since he got back to Hawkins, he felt like home on the field. The grass had a smell that he'd always love, the soccer goal recently pained white again. Peter inhaled deeply as he shut his eyes a moment, inhaling deeply in the middle of the field.

When he opened them, he wasn't on the soccer field anymore.

Peter panicked as he looked around. Everything was red, clocks floating. He backed up quickly, falling over one as the noise echoed. He hit the ground hard with a huff, looking around. "Steve!"

He never asked Max if she tried to yell for them when she was stuck, he hoped maybe his yells would be real outside of his head. He stood up quickly, spinning around to run, colliding with someone as he fell over again. His eyes shifted up to his fathers face. He stared down at him in disgust. "Get up, you big baby!"

Peters heart raced, shaking his head. "You're not real."

A wine glass appeared his his hand, throwing it as it hit Peters face. He fell back some, holding his face as it bleed onto his hands. He stood up quickly and tried to back up before his Dad grabbed hold of him, holding him by the shirt. "Are those tears I see? Shut up!"

Peter wipped his left eye. "I'm not crying."

"You're just like your stupid mother, you know that? Too emotional." he glared into his sons eyes. "Get out of my face, I don't wanna see you until tomorrow."

When he let him go, Peter didn't plant his feet on the ground, instead he was falling, and fast. He yelled in fear, dropping into nothing. He didn't know where he was going, there was no way of knowing. It wasn't until he hit the ground did he realize he was back on the soccer field, only a different version.

"You're not gonna get anywhere with two left feet. Do it again!" Shane shouted at him, Peter looked up quickly and saw his Dad standing over his again. Before he could react, he got a heel right to the face. The memory was too familiar, only he was little when this happened, not fifteen. He dad didn't hit him often, three times in his life, usually just through words did he affect him. First, the wine glass, which he already experience, then the kick to the face.

Peters eyes widened when he realized where he was after he fell backwards, his hands shoving into the carpet back at his house. His Dad pulled him up. "You think leaving the house is gonna get you anywhere? Going to hide out at your stupid uncles house thinking that'll make everything okay? You're dumb ass got arrested!"

"I'm sorry." Peter shook his head, it felt too real, despite knowing it wasn't. "I didn't mean to."

"I should have left your ungrateful ass there, maybe it'll teach you a lesson." he smacked him across the face, letting his shirt go. "Do you have any idea how that looks on me? Our family!"

"I'm sorry." he whispered it, his hand touched the side of his face his dad smacked him with. "I'm sorry."

"I don't care how sorry you are." Shane threatened him. "Come here, come close to me."

Peter sat still, shaking his head. Shane waved him over. "Come here, son. It's okay, come here."

He took two steps forward, his dad placed a gentle hand on his face, giving him a weak smile. Peter relaxed his shoulders just as he got a punch rather then a slap, making his, back then when it happened, smaller body fell to the side and hit the coffee table. It went black as Shane stared in a panic at the blood. "Oh my god. Peter, Peter get up. Get up."

Peter opened his eyes up, staring at the white hospital light. His head hurt, Wesley was there. "Wes."

"Hey." Wesley stood up quickly and kissed him on the forehead. "Scared me to death, you ass."