XXXIX: Guardian

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guard·i·an

noun


a defender, protector, or keeper.


Jim Hopper didn't cry when he sat in the truck, Emilia passed out next to him; the strain of finding a child dead was a blow to the gut, but his emotions were drained from him. He was driving her home -or rather to his own house- because he knew that she wouldn't go to her own. Part of him was glad; there was going to be someone else in his house that he had to take care of, thus forcing him to remain functional and upright when all he wanted to do was forget about this entire day. En route to his house, he changed his mind halfway there, and made an illegal U-turn, heading to William Roth's house. Instead of being upset and broken over Will's death, he decided to take it out on a man who didn't have the guts to take care of his own daughter.

It was an immature reaction, but Hopper didn't care.

Parking the truck in the driveway, he let the engine run for a moment before shutting it down. He did leave the lights on, however, as the porch light seemed to have gone out. He stepped out of the truck, quietly closing the truck door despite wanting to slam it in his rage. He hadn't reached the porch when William Roth stepped out, stained shirt, bare feet, black circles under his eyes. He raised his hand to cover his eyes from the bright glare of the headlights of the truck.

"Bringin' my daughter home?" He asked, careless.

"No," Hopper spoke sternly, like the authority figure he was. "You don't deserve that girl."

"What the hell are you goin' on about, Jim?"

Jim pointed his finger at his chest, accusing. "She's a great kid, you know that? I found her out there on the street because you told her you never wanted her."

He scoffed, but looked weary. "That's what she told you?"

"She didn't have to tell me."

"She's a bit of a fibber. Always has been, you wouldn't know, because you're not her father," he reminded Hopper. "You're not a father, anymore."

Emilia's eyes fluttered open, a pain in her neck from having it leaned against the window. The glass was icy cold, fogged up, but she could recognize her house anytime of day or night. Sitting upright, she glanced out the windshield and cocked her head to the side. Was Hopper bringing her home? Was the case too hectic to have her at his house? She should have known, and a part of her accepted it. She'd been a burden, but she had thought Hopper felt what she felt; he was acting as her guardian in so many ways. She'd been wrong, and so she took a deep breath, then reached for the truck handle. She'd go home, she'd stop being a burden to Hopper, and she'd move on with her life. In a few days she'd talk to Jonathan and hopefully that tie wasn't completely severed. She felt a great wave of disappointment that Hopper had brought her home, though.

She stepped out of the truck, walked around the hood, and that's when she saw Hopper take a swing at her father, socking him in the jaw. Her father stumbled backwards and slammed against the side of the trailer. Emilia completely froze where she stood, eyes wide, mouth agape. Hopper pulled his hand back and stepped backwards down the porch stairs. He was shaking his head, muttering something.

"Don't you ever talk about Sarah like she's not still my daughter," Hopper growled. "And don't even think about trying to report me. No one takes the town drunk seriously."

"Emilia will never be your daughter, Jim, keep that in mind while you parade as her father," he shook his head and went back inside.

Hopper said nothing else, trying not to let his words get underneath his skin. The man was a drunk -though Hopper wasn't sure he was so different in that aspect- and he should not be taken seriously. When he turned to go back to his truck, he spotted Emilia and felt an immediate rush of guilt, followed closely by the complete lack of guilt. Emilia ran away from her father, Hopper hardly believed she would be offended that he'd stood up for her. He yanked open the truck door and said to her, "Come on."

The drive was painfully silent, and it wasn't until they were parked in Hopper's driveway that Emilia spoke. "Thank you."

"That was not... I shouldn't have done that, especially not in front of you," he was setting a terrible example to this kid.

She shrugged, "You did what I couldn't. Plus, you'll get away with it. My dad wouldn't report you and draw eyes in his direction."

He nodded, mentally thanking her for those words. He knew Emilia's father wouldn't do anything, even before she confirmed it. But to know that she wasn't upset with him in any way, that gave him relief. By the time he reached his door, opening it without having to unlock it -he lived so far on the outskirts that he didn't feel the need to lock it- everything was silent again. Not a creature rustled in the woods, nothing splashed in the lake just behind his house. There was something eerie about all of it, but he put the blame on the fact he'd had to see a child dead today.

Emilia went straight to the kitchen, apology in her eyes as she began rifling through the cupboards and the fridge. Hopper chuckled, waving his hand and dismissing himself from the room without another word. It was as if they didn't need to verbalize their thoughts anymore, he had already told her that she could make herself at home, and Hopper had to catch some much needed sleep. He crashed almost immediately, tiredness consuming him like never before.

Emilia nibbled on a peanut-butter sandwich on some doughy white bread -it wasn't her first choice, but she was too hungry to make anything that required more time and effort than that. Seated in a fake-leather chair with awful coloured cushions and bright silver legs, she devoured two sandwiches in the span of five minutes. Hunger didn't care what she was going through, it would always present itself. Despite everything that had happened, Emilia was smiling. Out of everything bad, there was always going to be a silver lining somewhere. 

Then her thoughts drifted to Jonathan, and she wondered if he was lying awake in bed right now. Was he crying for the loss of his brother? Was he so distraught and broken that he was pushed to unconsciousness just to allow the pain to ebb as Hopper was? Was he dreading waking up and identifying his little brothers water-logged body on the morrow? The worry made its way into her, and her smile faded. She now began to wonder when she might get the chance to apologize to him, to tell him that all she wanted was for him to be okay, and in her life -if that's what he wanted.

As she clambered onto the couch and pulled a scratchy blanket over her tired body, she found that she could not sleep, thinking about the sadness Jonathan would be experiencing right now. She felt so guilty for walking away from him earlier, for telling him that she understood and at the same time left him like that. Would she be able to fix what she had done? The thoughts muddled up her mind, and prevented her from getting a wink of sleep that night.


Question of the day! Do you guys have any body mods? Bright hair? Piercings? Tattoos? 

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