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CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ CHEMICAL COCKTAILS
THEY ALL CRASHED AT MIKE'S PLACE THAT NIGHT, all of them viscerally exhausted. El looked like she was on the verge of passing out, a purple swelling beginning to dot her neck as time went on, and Rosie had a relentless migraine pounding at her skull. Max hadn't spoken much since they got back, and Rosie wanted nothing more than to sit her down and talk to her, but she found that as soon as she fell onto the couch in Mike's basement, she was asleep. She had fallen into a somewhat cleansing slumber, and the next morning they woke up with a clear mission in mind: they needed to find Hopper. Maybe even Mrs Byers. Their thought process was clear, the both of them were adults; they would know how to defeat this thing.
Or at the very least, they could help.
El had travelled into whatever void she entered frequently again. A patterned blindfold covered her eyes as she searched for the Sheriff, blood trickling from her nose. The air was tense, the feelings concerning the night before left unspoken. Rosie examined El's still face to see some kind of extreme reaction, any sort of lip quirk or eyebrow furrow to tell her that Hopper could be in danger. She bit the inside of her cheek.
"I found him," El said finally, and they all breathed a simultaneous sigh of relief.
"Where is he?" Max questioned, frowning.
"Woods."
"Woods?"
"He's with... Will's mom," El continued.
Will lurched forward in surprise, "My— My mom?"
"What are they doing? Are they okay?" Rosie asked worriedly.
"They're okay," El assured her, "Ill... annoy. They're going to Ill-annoy."
Rosie jumped at the sound of knocking at the basement door, though she resettled in her seat in between Lucas and Max when she realised it was just Mrs Wheeler, "Mike! Breakfast!"
"Not now, Mom!" Mike screeched back, and Rosie absentmindedly wondered how in the hell he could get away with yelling at his mom like that, "Illinois? Illinois, like the state? The state of Illinois?"
" Ill-annoy," El confirmed shakily, pulling off her blindfold.
"At least they're safe, right?" Rosie told the group, ever optimistic, "I mean they're not stuck in a pit or anything, so I'd count this as a win."
She must've been the only one.
•. ° . * .·. . ✧:. ·.
ROSIE LOOKED AT HER BRUISED HANDS with a furrowed brow. Not only were they turning an ugly plum colour, but they were a reminder of her failure. A reminder that her courage was undeserved. When she'd caught herself, Billy had thrown her so hard against the floor she could've sworn she broke her hands, or it had at least felt like it. She was lucky to have gotten away with some hideous bruising. She looked up at herself in the bathroom mirror. She took in her tired eyes and bloodied lip, before looking back down again in shame. Rosie felt like she had shrunk.
