chapter one
promises we can't keep
🎧
The eerie silence that floats in the air is the first thing Rue notices. Hawkins, Indiana, is a small and quiet town. For a brief moment, she swears it's deserted. It could have frightened her if she wasn't so relieved.
It is a difficult adjustment to go from a big city to a small town, from all the people and bustling life to someplace smaller and quieter. Rue has never felt so relieved at the lack of noise.
The soft clicking of a car's directional signal brings her back to reality. She blinks and nearly flinches, but then she sighs softly, leaning back in her seat.
She stares at the dark road ahead, only half-aware of a world outside the car's claustrophobic comfort, her father's hands stroking the wheel, the almost soundless changing of the gears, the pattern of traffic lights. Music plays from the speakers, barely loud enough to be heard over the radio's static.
The last time she looked out the window, they had passed a red—almost brown—sign that said, "Welcome to Hawkins!" in faded white letters. And now, all she could see were small and cluttered buildings and what is supposed to be the heart of the town.
They drive past a police station, where a man with a funny-looking hat stands outside. He's dressed in uniform while a cigarette sits between his lips and under his moustache. The man holds onto a coffee mug despite it nearly being midnight.
From the window, Rue catches his glance. Both of them held a strange sort of eye contact, and Rue couldn't bring herself to look away even after they were far away, and she had to strain her neck to look back.
"That's Jim Hopper," she hears a voice next to her.
After tearing her eyes away from the man, she turns to with a curious glance at her father, silently asking him to continue.
"He's the sheriff," Her father explains before adding a fun fact, "I used to go to high school with him. He used to be a huge trouble maker back then." He pauses, then laughs to himself, "Honestly, I have no idea how he became the sheriff."
Bob Newby is a kind, simple man. A man who had fallen victim to divorce or separation or whatever you call running away from his wife and six-year-old daughter one random night with no explanation whatsoever. No note, no reason. One day he was there, and the next, he wasn't. But despite his flaws, he is still kind and simple. He has a round face and dark brown hair. His eyes are almost identical to his daughter's; green, and he looks like a giant teddy bear little kids would love to cling on.
As he turns the corner, he points to another small building next to a shop. "That's the Radio Shack. I'm the manager there," he says with a hint of pride, "If I'm not at home, then I'm probably there. Or Joyce's house."
Rue makes a face at the foreign name, "Who's Joyce?"
She doesn't miss the way a blush had grown on his face or how his lips twist into a shy smile. "She's uh..." Bob trails, clearly caught off guard at the sudden but fair question asked by his daughter. "She's my girlfriend."
"You have a girlfriend?" Rue questions, sitting up with wide eyes.
It only makes sense she was going to question him. She hasn't seen her father since she was six years old. Sure, they had shared phone calls, but that had only been in the beginning after the divorce. After a few months, the phone calls happened less until they never happened at all.
That was until a few weeks ago when Rue had called him for the first time in seven years to invite him to her mother's funeral.
To say he was shocked when his daughter told him the news over the phone was an understatement. But he showed up anyway, and Rue was grateful that he did.
There was so much Bob Newby had missed out from his daughter's life- good and bad. There were seven years he had to make up for being gone and starting a life that didn't even have her in it.
But Rue, being the forgiving girl she was, doesn't hold it against him.
"Yeah, she's my girlfriend," Bob confirms with an awkward nod. In the corner of his eye, he can see Rue looking up at him with a pleading look in her eyes for him to keep talking. He laughs softly at this, realizing she hasn't changed much from the little girl he once knew. "We've been dating for a few months now, and she has these two boys. I think one of them might be your age, you can make a friend. I can introduce you to them tomorrow if you want."
Rue doesn't answer.
"Unless you think that's too fast," Bob quickly adds. "We can always do it some other time, you know? Summer just started, and we have all the time we want."
"I'd love to meet them after I settle in," Rue's voice is weary.
"You can meet them whenever you're ready," Bob corrected, and he felt a little lighter when he caught her smiling.
Rue notices how he relaxes more after the brief interaction. She can almost feel him beaming at himself, and she can't help but smile brighter. "Thank you."
In a suburban neighbourhood, the car comes to a halt. (Bob had been driving much more cautiously than he would on a normal day; for Rue's sake and sanity) Ahead of them was a welcoming two-story house.
Rue wonders if Bob had lived here all by himself this whole time. Her chest tightens at the thought of it; he was one man, and living in a family house with no family just seems.. Sad.
"It only looks big on the outside," Bob quickly dismissed his daughter's pity as he turned off the car's engine. "I swear the space doesn't bother me. And if anything, with you around, there will actually be a family in the family house."
Rue blinked and stared at him. Her eyebrows knitted together in confusion, but before she could question how he knew what she was thinking, he smiled sadly and passed her a tissue.
"Here," Bob placed it on her hand gently. "For your nose."
He then opened the door and exited the car. Bob went to the back to retrieve Rue's luggage from the trunk.
Rue stayed in her seat, staring at the white tissue in her hands. She brought it up to her nose as Bob suggested, and when she brought it back down to the light, she noticed a red patch of blood creating a contrast against the clean white.
She sighed and finished cleaning her nose before she got out of the car. Her mother had always told her that nose bleeds were common for some people. And Rue would have questioned that theory if she hadn't noticed the way her mother's nose bleed the same way hers did.
Maybe it ran in their genes.
The crisp, early summer night breeze blew on her skin, and she couldn't help but smile softly. When she closed the car door, she could hear Bob's grunts as he struggled to carry all of Rue's bags up the stairs to the porch. The girl quickly ran up to him, "Let me help," she offered.
Bob gave her a grateful smile and put all the bags down before taking out his keys and opening the front door.
As Rue picked up half of the bags, she could already feel the coolness of the house pour outside the second the door swung open.
Bob Newby had great taste when it came to decorating a house.
That had been the first thing Rue had thought the second she walked in. The house was a little cluttered but in a way that gave the space life. The colour pallet of browns, whites, and blues was calming and peaceful. And the vinyl covers hung on the wall only made Rue love it even more.
So here's where I got it from, Rue thought as she spotted the pile of cassettes and music CDs sitting around on the kitchen island. The sight of the music reminded her of the walkman strapped to the belt loops of her shorts, and she felt her fingers brush over the plastic gently.
"Welcome home," Bob puffed out after locking the front door. "You hungry? I can make us some pasta before we go to bed—oh speaking of bed, your room is upstairs, second room to the right... unless that ends up being the bathroom. It would be the room to the left then or—"
"Hey," Rue cut him off, grinning at the way he started to ramble the same way she would catch herself doing, "I'll find my way," she told him, beginning to make her way towards the staircase with a lovely blue patterned carpet.
She stopped in her steps and spun around to face him. "Pasta sounds amazing right now," she added, feeling herself become excited with the thought of her favourite dish. "I haven't eaten any home cooked meals since—" Rue stopped feeling all the warmth drain from her face. "Since— Uhm," she tried again, but the words couldn't come out of her mouth, "uh—"
"It's okay," Bob quickly said, "you don't have to say it."
"I'm sorry," Rue's voice cracked, and her gaze dropped to her shoes as tears began to cloud her vision. "I'm sorry, I didn't-" She began to choke up, "I'm sorry," she repeated. "I'm sorry."
"Rue, it's okay," Bob said again, but the girl still wouldn't stop apologizing. "Rue, it's okay. It's okay. Don't worry, Rue."
She was frozen to her spot, hugging herself miserably as she stared at the floor, her eyes dazed as if she was reliving something. "I'm sorry," she whispered.
"It's okay."
It's okay.
Those words did nothing but haunt her, and the guilt had found Rue again.
It snatched her shoulders and pushed her to look at it.
To remember it and soak it all in.
To remember the look in her mother's eyes as the woman's breaths began to shorten. "It's okay," Emilia Davis had whispered, "I just need to catch my breath."
It's not okay.
Rue's head suddenly began to hurt, and her palms ached. She could feel the scars on her skin sting as if they were fresh, and she couldn't move.
"I'm sorry," She grits through her teeth, and starts to hyperventilate. Rue felt her chest tighten like she was being strangled by something that wasn't even there.
There was so much air.
Too much air.
She panicked.
"Rue, you need to breathe," She could hear Bob's voice say, and it felt like he was miles away and screaming at the top of his lungs. But Rue could feel his hands on her shoulders, and he was right in front of her, not miles away. "Rue?"
"She said she just needed to catch her breath," Rue panted, "She was fine. She just needed to catch her breath," she whispered and began to stammer until she used all the air in her lungs. "But there was blood. Why was she bleeding? She said she was fine. Then why was she bleeding? Why is she bleeding if she's fine? She was just tired. She just needed to catch her breath. But then there's blood on my hands, and she's not looking at me anymore. She said she was fine. She was just resting, but there was blood and—"
"Rue," Bob cut her off. His eyes widened at the sight of the girl, whose face was flushed and eyes red to the rim. She kept gasping and panting, but it slowed down when he cupped her cheeks.
Her lower lip quivered, and she whispered once more, "She said she just needed to catch her breath."
Bob didn't know what to do. When Rue used to cry as a child, he would have picked her up and rocked her to sleep.
But Rue wasn't a baby anymore. She was thirteen years old and nearly his height, and he wasn't sure how the boundaries between them were considering it's been seven years.
Hoping for the best, he wrapped his arms around her. Praying it wouldn't make matters worse.
He could feel her tremble in his arms and her tears soak up his summer button-up, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Bob ran his hands over her hair, knowing that it used to calm her down when she was younger.
Thankfully, it still worked because Rue's cries became quieter, and her breathing returned to normal.
Bob felt like he was holding his baby girl all over again. Like he had gone back in time.
"Things are going to get better now," Bob said once Rue had calmed down.
Rue nodded against his shoulder as she sniffled. She had stopped crying but didn't dare to pull away from her father's hug. "Swear?"
"Hmm?"
"Do you promise things are going to get better? Pinky swear it?" Rue brought her hand up, drawing an X against his heart. "Cross your heart?"
Bob would've missed what she had whispered if she wasn't so close to him. "You still cross your promises?" He wondered out loud, feeling a watery smile grow on his face as he remembered all the times he would get Rue to cross her promises when she was younger. It was for the smaller things, like getting her to promise to clean up her toys or finish eating her vegetables.
"I never stopped," She said quietly, almost embarrassed to admit it.
Bob smiled softly, "I promise. Cross my heart."
rewriting this is making me realize how much better my writing was for act 3 of the og than it was here.
i've always hated writing intro chapters or the first chapter of something. i don't even know why, it's just really difficult to start something.
i'm also not the biggest fan of this chapter, but that's probably because i know things are gonna be so much better later on. like pls bare with me y'all
( word count: 2370 )