some nights , the
bravest thing we can do
is exist
𝗦𝗧𝗥𝗔𝗡𝗚𝗘𝗥 𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦
𝗿𝗼𝗯𝗶𝗻 𝗯𝘂𝗰𝗸𝗹𝗲𝘆 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺! 𝗼𝗰
𝗺𝗮𝘅 𝗺𝗮𝘆𝗳𝗶𝗲𝗹𝗱 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺! 𝗼𝗰
(𝘀𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗿𝗲𝗲- 𝗳𝗼𝘂𝗿)
𝗰𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗺𝗮𝗱𝗲 𝗯𝘆 @rickyslovebot...
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CHAPTER ONE MEMORIES DESTROY US
season THREE, episode ONE.
RUBY CARPENTER WAS NEVER A FRAGILE GIRL.
She once was— a naive, happy, excited little girl, held at the roots of the hatred sprouting from the world. As she grew older and still resided in Hawkins, Indiana, she was formally introduced to mental pain.
Rue's father, Adam Carpenter, was a drug addict. He topped the addicting problem off with being a heavy alcohol drinker. And he never stopped. By the time Rue turned ten, she was extremely used to the smell of toxic weed and smoke lingering throughout the house, which tickled her nose furiously. If she got close to her father, she could smell the heavy taste of alcohol coming out of his mouth. He suffered, made his wife, Josephine suffer, and even his daughter, Rue suffer.
From mood swings to outbursts to crying to stumbling inside the house with no idea where he was, Adam's problems only grew and became worse.
Thing is, Adam Carpenter never wanted to stop. He held his wife at a rope, which would slowly untwine and break— his actions affected Josephine Carpenter extremely terribly, but somehow, she always stuck to him like invisible glue. Seen with its cloud-like texture, but extremely sticky. Despite their ongoing arguments, Josephine's soothing voice would help calm down her dangerous husband during their fights— sometimes.
Other times his veiny hand would be clasped around her neck, salty tears coating Josephine's cheeks as she begged her husband to once again have mercy on her.
Josephine knew sure as hell that her husband was destroying her inside and out. When his addictions became worse, she put aside Rue as another non-important thing in the house and directed her full attention to Adam. Josephine was clingy. Clingy to things that hurt her.
Rue lived half of her life making herself peanut butter sandwiches for breakfast, dinner, and lunch, locking the bathroom door every time she showered, her head pressed against her window right next to her bed, and listening to the sounds of her parents' arguments from beyond her bedroom door.
The home was an exact living hell for Rue. Adam Carpenter, her goddamn father, was a living hell. Every time she looked at him, she imagined his clammy face red and large, cut-up red horns on his head, his chocolate brown eyes dimming to a crimson red that gazed upon her with hatred.
In the mornings, the sun through the branches made an intricate pattern, geometric like the weave of her father, a ragged quilt made of scraps.
That was half Rue could remember of the sinned man— his scrawny unshaved black beard and the deep voice that would bellow throughout the halls in her household when he had an outrage on her mother, their two voices mixing into one and keeping Rue up at night.
