Tension (Steve Harrington)

Chap. 51; The Flood Gates Are Opened

"Fine, what is your gosh darn name?" He pushed up out of his chair.

"Loretta Ann Hopper," the look on the man's face soften. Lauren held up her hand to get him to stop talking before he even spoke but he did anyways.

"Oh, I'm sorry for your loss."

"I don't need your pity right now. Just get me the fucking paper." He nodded walking into the back room. Lauren rolled her eyes moving back into the boy's arms. "Thank you." He hugged her back, holding he closer. The man came out of the room with a new sense of urgency and handed Lauren her transcript.

She accepted it and walked right out the door getting back in the car. They drove to the cabin to pick up other things they needed. They pulled into the makeshift driveway. They looked at the newly destroyed house. Lauren took the lead and walked through the door. The couch was sitting in front of the door making it harder to get in.

When she walked in she saw the house in ruins. There were holes in the walls and ceilings and wood all over the floor. Her room seemed to be mostly untouched at least from the fight that happened the night prior. Steve's dress search party didn't leave the room so lucky. There were clothes all over the floor and her bed. "Steve, what the fuck did you do?" He glanced in the doorway.

"I had to find a bunch of shit."

"Three things are not a lot of shit."

"You need a dress that you hadn't worn since the eighth grade, a black turtle neck, and a black dress. One of those things was in a box, which you failed to mention. The other was in the back of your closet considering it's the middle of summer, and the other one I didn't know which one you were talking about you have a shit ton of dresses." He said before walking over to elevens room to pack up her stuff.

Lauren folded up the clothes she thought were the most important shirts and put them in her suitcase. The less important clothes she put in boxes they had picked up at the post office. She was just going to pack everything up getting ready to move for when she came back. It wasn't in her slightest interest to stay in the cabin. Not if it was still a mess. Not without her dad. She looked at her room not knowing what to pack next.

Though she hadn't lived in the cabin long it still held so many good memories. The walls were coved in posters and pictures just the same as it was at the trailer, but something about taking the posters down this time sucked. She wasn't just moving across town. She started with all her music. Lauren took all the records from the shelf and put them into milk create. She was going to have Steve take them so that they wouldn't warp in the non-air-conditioned cabin. She grabbed the basket filled with mixtapes and albums on cassette and walked them to the living room just to free up space.

Lauren grabbed another box and began grabbing stuff on her desk. She didn't really know how to pack. She didn't know what goes with what, but she tried. She picked up a picture frame with a picture of her dad and El. It was taken after she got back from the hospital last November. She took the photo out of the fame not wanting to leave it behind but didn't have room for the big frame. This made her start taking down all of her photos.

She looked at all of them. The prom pictures, she smiled at Walt's stupidity. She pulled the photo booth film of photos of Steve and Lauren going from fighting to making practical porn. She looked at the picture of Nancy, Barbara, Walt, and her at the Wheeler's having a little party before high school. Each picture a different memory. She put them all in a small box shoving them in her suit case not letting herself part with them.

Unlike the pictures, Lauren could part with her posters. As much as she loved her Matt Dillon, Halloween, Gatlinburg, Steve Nicks, and any other poster she had she could leave them. She wouldn't need them when she got back. When she got back she was going to have to be an adult. Next year when she was going to have to raise a newly fifteen-year-old girl all by herself.