Her Mixtape (Extended Version), Stranger Things

𝖝𝖛𝖎𝖎𝖎. Dig Dug

"I know..."

"Why did you leave me?"

"I couldn't stay."

"But why did you leave me?"

"Because of your mother." He finally says.

Rue wants to hate him. She knows she should. How dare he? How could he point fingers at a woman who cannot even defend herself because she's dead? But she can't hate him. No, she loves him too much to hate him.

Yet, his answer makes Rue wonder. How is it that every bad thing that has ever happened to her, always points back to her mother as the root cause? What is the woman who goes by the name of Emilia Davis? What has she done? Who else has she hurt?

"You shouldn't have married her," Rue tells him. She's resentful, and honestly, she feels just as regretful for her father's past as he is.

Bob takes a seat next to Rue. He pauses for a moment before a sad smile crosses his lips. "I never would've had you if I didn't."

"You shouldn't marry someone you don't love." Rue continues.

"A lot of people marry without love."

Rue knows. A terrible, terrible thing. People who marry without truly devoting themselves to their partner. She recalls Will Byers and his father. What an awful man. How could such an awful man marry a delight that is Joyce? Rue tried to make excuses, that maybe Will's father hadn't always been so terrible, but Jonathan told her otherwise. "I think he was born heartless."

Money. Joyce had married him for the money. Despite the fact he barely had any himself, when the marriage benefits settled and the monthly child support checks from the state came in, it all made everything seem for the better. But in the end, he left her with nothing but bruised skin, cigarette butts, and a lingering scent of liquor in the air. Maybe, there had once been love, but not one that lasts.

"It beats the meaning of marriage."

Bob shakes his head as if he's trying to forget every hazed memory he left behind in Chicago. "Your mother was a very complicated person, Rue." He says slowly. "Love is very complicated too. One day you'll get it. But listen... Emilia... my time with her, it felt like I wasn't actually there. Like I was just watching it all happen."

"Like someone else controlled what you did?" Rue finishes for him. "Not always, but sometimes. Like there were times when you wanted to say or do one thing but you're doing something else. And it's not like you wanted to do that but you suddenly have this urge to do it. And there's this voice in your head just yelling at you to do it."

Bob can't help but smile sadly. Of course, she knows, and his guilt rises again. He reaches for her hand, holding it softly, "I shouldn't have left you with her."

"You were just trying to get your life back—"

"But I should have brought you with me."

Rue shakes her head, "she would have found me anyway."

Bob quickly grasps what his daughter is trying to imply; she tried getting away too. And he could almost envision it, Rue running off in the darkness of the night, hiding within shadows of the city to get away.

"I still miss her, though," Rue says. "I miss her a lot."

With his free hand, Bob tucks away her hair from her face, hoping the smile on his face is comforting as she looks at him again, hot tears pricking her eyes. As he brings his hand down, Bob pinches her cheek, making her grin. "Don't cry. We're supposed to cheer up Will."

Rue wipes away her tears, her cheek pressing onto her father's warm hand. "This conversation isn't over." She says to him. "I want you to tell me dumb stories from when I was a baby."