𝕾𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕾𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗 - [𝗦𝘁𝗲𝘃𝗲 𝗛𝗮𝗿𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘁𝗼𝗻]

𝐢. 𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄 - sisters

━━━━━━━

 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐃 rolled in swiftly tonight, dark grey clouds alighting with streaks of lightning. The rain thundered down and the rapid tip-tapping against the metal roof of the old and abandoned warehouse was almost... comforting for Eleven.

 Her stomach was a bundle of nerves; she'd never left Hawkins before, never stepped foot in such a big city. But after mama had given her hints as to the whereabouts of a girl just like her, Eleven couldn't stop herself from hitching a ride with a rather nice stranger.

 Her shoes were sopping wet, squelching with each tentative step, and the curls atop her head were dripping water down to her cheeks. Eleven shivered as she stared up at the building. There was a faint glow emitting from a crack in the wall; someone was here, and she could only hope it was the girl she'd been looking for.

 She kept quiet, giving special attention to the sound of her steps. One, two, three and she was inside. The rain continued to hurtle down from the ever-darkening sky and Eleven pulled her dripping-wet coat closer to her body, shaking her head and watching as droplets spewed about.

 Her throat was closing as she stared out at the group of miss-matched people huddled around a fire. They were laughing, hooting at each other as though they were mocking one another.

 Eleven mustered the courage to call out, "Hello?"

 Their heads snapped towards her and she could finally see each of their faces clearly. The flickering flames lit them up as though they had all gathered beneath a spotlight. They were an odd group, Eleven thought for a moment before remembering the boys she had grown close to back home; nobody could be odder than them.

 "Well, well..." A man with a mohawk stepped forth, his milky skin glistening as the flames continued to roar. His hand was tucked into his pocket, his tall and lanky body almost folding as her peered at her with beaded eyes, "What do we have here?"

 "What is she wearing?" One of them said, and Eleven spared a quick look at her sodden overalls; she quite liked them, "Are those overalls?"

 A woman hopped down from an old table, her long legs unfurling as her burst of hair rocked atop her head. Unruly curls erupted from her head, coloured a golden yellow, "We don't have any cows here to milk here, kid, go on back to the farm, now."

 Eleven swallowed, unwilling to falter as her hand curled around a crumpled piece of paper that had been hastily stuffed into her pocket, "I'm looking for my sister."

 The man with the mohawk slumped, his shoulders drooping as his tone adopted a mocking edge, "Aw, Shirley Temple lost her sister..." He swiped a long and boney finger beneath his eyes, "So sad."