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October 30th, 1984
AUGUSTINE PIPER HADN'T DRIVEN HER CAR IN NEARLY TWO YEARS. The inevitable crash of her 1975 Camry was one written in the stars. As she barely obtained her license, every civilian in Hawkins must have understood her poor driving skills. People, inanimate objects, quivered in fear as she propelled down the poorly paved roads.
It was her destiny, practically, and after the wreck, Police Chief Jim Hopper personally revoked her license. And ever since, her trusty bike, Silver, took her wherever she pleased. Purely rusty around the edges and highly dangerous on rough terrain, the thing was rickety, that's for sure.
Augustine hoped she could get through her week without a hitch; although, wherever Augustine went, a disaster seemed to follow her like a thick smog. It held its weight and constantly watched over her, waiting.
She attempted to move through her morning as if this week hadn't meant anything. She forced herself to move from her bed to her bathroom. In all her attempts to look semi-functional, she pushed herself to get out of bed, go to school, and do the mundane things she was supposed to be doing; moving on with her life. She knew she should leave her old life in the past, like her brother. It'd been a year, and Augustine knew Theodore would not be returning to Hawkins.
Hawkins High was a constant Hell. You'd think more people would be empathetic when a kid goes missing. Though Augustine was just Theodore's older sister, she walked through the halls, and every eye in the room followed her. Almost like one of those paintings, you'd swear their eyes would follow you around the room. Except these were real people who watched Augustine's every move, waiting for her to snap.
No one could blame Augustine for losing her mind; however, they still did. Weeks passed, and the invisible lifestyle she once held in her palm vanished. That's when the endless cycle of torment began. And then there was the time Rebecca Higgins, Principal Higgins' daughter, found out her locker combination and stuffed her locker with newspaper clippings. Shreds of paper flew out of her locker, pictures of Theodore with the headline: The second missing child in Hawkins.
Augustine spent most of her time trying to avoid the Hell that was school, but home wasn't a sweet treat, either.
Like any morning, she'd woken up late. A loud thump propelled her to sit up in bed. In the doorway, Susan stood. She looked disheveled, her blonde hair mussed from sleep. Susan still wore her mascara, though the make-up settled on her eyebags.
"That thing's been going off for fifteen minutes," she said, referring to the blaring alarm clock on the bedside table. The noise wasn't deafening, but the walls in their home were thin. "Turn it off, or dammit, I'll break it myself."
