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CHAPTER FOUR. ━━━━━━━━━ The old world is dying, and the new world struggles to be born; now is the time of monsters.
ANTONIO GRAMSCI ━━━━━━━━━
HER PARENTS DON'T TRULY KNOW what happened in her childhood. However, Jean is certain that they suspect something. It won't be anywhere close to what had happened in reality, but at times the way they look at her and how they stop talking when she steps into the kitchen, makes her believe that they wonder.
They know that she had been given up for adoption at age ten, after having spent years in a hospital due to an unknown sickness. The last part is a lie, obviously, and it hadn't been a real hospital, Jean knows that now, too. For it were the doctors that had made her sick, not cured her.
Her real parents had died before she was able to walk and talk and think and she hadn't known them and at least that might be true. Jean's past is blurry and she had seen so many unknown faces in her childhood that she can't even tell stranger and parent apart. She hopes it's true—because what is more terrible than losing a child?
What you had to endure was much more terrible, a voice in her head sometimes tells her. But only thinking it makes her feel ashamed. Her fathers hadn't raised her to be selfish and believing her own fate to be the most gruesome is just that—selfish.
Someone she does remember is him. He didn't have a name, at least not one she recalls, but to her he is a monster, nothing more and nothing less, and monsters need neither names nor faces. So he doesn't have either. His face never takes on shape. Jean is grateful for that, because she remembers so many other things, she doesn't need this, as well.
To her ten-year-old self he had seemed like a hero, saving her from certain death and more suffering. It had seemed like a fairytale, the brave and honourable knight rescuing the maiden in need from the big, bad wolf. But she is older now and understands that he himself had been one of the wolves. And only because he had felt cowardice in the last moments, wanting to redeem himself and his actions, it would never make up for the things he'd done.
Jean is also sure that he had done it entirely for himself. He wanted to be able to look at himself in the mirror without cringing at seeing his blood stained hands.
But he had not saved her. From the doctors, perhaps. But not from herself. Because sometimes life is a fate worse than death. The number on her arm painfully reminds her of it every minute of every hour of every day.
01.
Jean Weston knows her odds if the secret gets out in a small-minded town like Hawkins.
STEVE LOOKS LOST IN THE parking lot of their high school. It's past classes and he had just finished basketball practice as Jean steps out of the library, trying to balance a stack of books with one hand and pushing her reading glasses up her nose with the other.
Steve isn't sure why he had been waiting for her. His talk with Nancy had ended horribly and all he wants to do is drive home, craving quietness and peaceful slumber. But when he had spotted Jean's bike as one of the last next to the entrance, he decided to wait.
As she walks across the empty parking lot, she allows herself a deep inhale of the fresh autumn air, smiling a little to herself as the crisp breeze bites at her cheeks. "Are you waiting for me?" She asks, exhausted voice thick with her British accent. In school, Jean desperately tries to talk like her fellow American students but she is too tired for pretending and not for Steve anyways. "What an honour."
She is able to get the tiniest smile out of the boy but it's gone as soon as she takes her glasses off. "I take that it didn't go well with Nancy, huh?"
Jean can sense his surprise while she is busy repacking her backpack, trying to fit the four newly borrowed books inside, without any luck.When she turns around once more, Steve is still looking at her, the question obvious in his eyes. "I am your friend," She sighs, giving him a sad smile. "It wasn't hard to figure out why you two left seperately." She doesn't add that Meryn might have filled her in on the drama in class, whisper-yelling the dirty details in her ear in the middle of Biology class.
Steve huffs in annoyment but stays quiet for a few seconds. "Do you think I'm a good boyfriend?"
"You treated her with respect, at least as far as I know, and those are the most important traits of a relationship. Mutual respect and love. And you love her, don't you?"
"Of course," he answers bitterly. "But it seems the same cannot be said about Nancy."
Now it's her turn to look irritated. "You don't know that," Jean replies, but when Steve grimaces, she has to ask, "She told you that?"Nancy Wheeler is a nice person, if not a little odd, and she doesn't really think the girl is capable of breaking hearts like this.
Shrugging, he looks away. The girl supposes that it's a boy thing. He doesn't want her to see him as weak or delicate. "I'd rather not talk about it," he sighs audibly. "Look... I actually wanted to talk to you about something else... I've heard that you seemed pretty close with Hargrove at the party."
The way he says it makes Jean roll her eyes. As if she is a puppy that has to be protected at all cost. "I'm not stupid enough to get myself involved with someone like him. He basically screams danger and brain damage."
At that, Steve grins a little and Jean feels warmth spread through her. "I just wanted to be sure that you don't... Y'know," he stutters, scratching his neck, "get yourself in trouble."
Jean Weston appreciates his concern. It makes her feel like someone that matters, if only a little. But after years spent with evil men she recognises one if she sees him. And Billy Hargrove is an evil boy who does everything possible to get the world to bend to his whims.
He takes, and takes, and takes, and then when there is nothing left to pillage, he destroyes the husk of what is left. Billy is mean, pure and simple. He ruins everything just for the fun of it, like a little boy knocking over an anthill just to tell himself he is God to something.
