CHAPTER 1
MADMAX
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The question hung in the air, desperately waiting to be answered. Guilt rose in her stomach as the words fell off her tongue. "4 hours." It wasn't even her fault, but somehow she felt to blame. Maybe she could have tried harder, maybe she should have done those calming exercises she was taught.
So the blame stuck with her.
The woman in the chair across from her blinked slowly, a small sigh escaping her thin lips, followed by a tight smile. She always did that when she felt disappointed, even when she didn't want to show it. "You only slept for 4 hours, why do you think that is Laurel?"
The brunette who sat deep into her preferred crease of the old leather couch stiffened a bit,
shrugging her shoulders. Lillian always hated when she did this. Don't shrug, it just means you're hiding the answer.
Before she could speak those exact words, Laurel spoke up. "It's basically been exactly one year ago since..." The words got lost on the way out her mouth, but Lillian caught them for her.
"Since Will's disappearance?"
Laurel's stomach twisted into familiar knots, the ones that came up whenever she spoke of Will's disappearance, almost as if she continued talking about it it would happen again. She always tried to talk about lighter subjects. "Yeah," she responded, her voice quieter than a mouse as her hand subconsciously scratched her stomach.
Lillian nodded sympathetically, writing a few things down on her clipboard. Laurel never got to see what was written, something that subconsciously bugged her, like an itch at the back of her mind; knowing that there were things being said about her within arms reach but not being able to read them.
Lillian looked back up to meet Laurel's gaze, which was staring at her collection of cat figurines on her shelf. "What happens when you try to sleep?"
Laurel sighed, pulling her gaze from the shelf she often looked at to avoid Lillian's sad, green eyes. There was no doubt she liked Lillian, she was a great therapist for the past 5 months she'd been seeing her, but she always looked at Laurel with pity. She hated when people looked at her like she was helpless.
"It's either...my mind is like...racing with thoughts, so fast and so...so incoherent that I can't stop it. It's like my mind is dreaming, but my body isn't. Or some nights I feel like I'm not alone in the room, and I'm too afraid to shut my eyes." Laurel said slowly, choosing her words wisely as she picked at the nail on her finger. Joyce always hated when she bit her nails, which she now didn't do often, but that didn't stop her from using her other fingers to tear them off.
"I see..." Lillian replied, writing more unknown words on the paper in her hands. Maybe if I stare at her fingers long enough I'll be able to tell what letters she's drawing.
"It seems to me that this is worse than before, would you say that it's because of the anniversary of Will's disappearance that you're acting this way?"
Laurel hated the word anniversary, as if it was a time of celebration. But Laurel's eyebrows furrowed, pushing away the anger towards the word. She never thought of it like that, but it made sense. All the anxiety attacks that had been happening at school over stupid marks, all the nightmares she'd been having, all the times she couldn't sleep whatsoever. In the back of her mind, she knew the day was coming.
The closer she got, the worse she got, because a part of her mind wouldn't stop nagging her about the possibility of the upside-down coming back to haunt Hawkins.
"Yeah, I think so."
Lillian smiled normally now, clicking her pen a few times, which she did in moments of thought. "I have a daughter, she's 10 years old. Around Christmas time 2 years ago she got into a bad car accident with my ex-husband, and had to be rushed into the hospital. It was December, so of course the roads were bad. She recovered, but...every time December comes rolling around I get those same feelings. I understand how you feel."
Laurel finally made her eyes gaze upon Lillian's, for once being interested in the words she was saying. On their first session they chatted and talked about themselves, getting to know each other. That was basically the extent to Laurel's knowledge of her therapist. Until this moment when she had a connection with someone quite opposite of her.
Laurel guessed she always thought therapist's lives were great. She always pictured Lillian's life being content and worry free, because she seemed to be so wise on making Laurel's life the same. But maybe she was human, just like everyone else.
Laurel nodded in understanding.
Lillian's next words caught Laurel off guard as she put her clip board down for a moment. "What about Nancy?"
Laurel froze, eyes somehow stuck on Lillian's. She wanted to look away, she didn't want to show her real feelings, but she did anyway.
Her eyes and words told two different stories. "We're fine."
Lillian could tell she was holding back information. It was almost a half truth. Nancy and Laurel were considered friends. After Christmas last year the two drifted apart for a few months, Nancy going back to being Steve Harrington's boyfriend and Laurel going back to her bland life as an an outcast of Hawkins High School. But near the end of the school year they got into 2 of the same classes, so it was a given that they'd speak again. Laurel had healed more over the course of those past few months, but it still hurt her every time she spoke to Nancy, the back of her mind telling her all the bad things she felt. She wanted to be at least something with Nancy, so she pushed those thoughts away.
Now Laurel and Nancy were school friends, but never outside of school. The only time Laurel would see her outside of class was at Betty's books. Laurel had quit her job there, mostly because her mother didn't want her working there in her condition. But this year she thought about applying again.
Lillian seemed to understand Laurel's drawing of the line at any topic with Nancy, so she dropped the subject. Most of the first few months she brought out her feelings for the girl, but now she rarely wanted to speak of them.
Lillian checked her watch, meaning the session was near over. "Okay, I'd like your homework for this week to be writing down on a piece of paper all your feelings towards Nancy. Anything you want to say. Then afterwards you can throw it out. Tear it up. Whatever you want to do. It's cathartic."
Laurel licked her lips nervously, nodding her head in understanding. Her bangs fell further into her eyes, but she brushed then away. She needed a trim.
"You think you could do that?"
Laurel nodded "Yeah."
That was a lie.
_____
School was as dreadful and as difficult as always. Laurel hated to admit that she didn't do well in math or science, she only really excelled in the classes that interested her. Sadly her previous class had just been calculus, and she swore almost the whole lesson went over her head. She just couldn't seem to focus.
Laurel jumped slightly at the intrusion of her thoughts when a bright orange paper flew in front of her face. She was walking out if the classroom, backpack on her shoulders and calculus book in her arms when Nancy strolled up with a flyer.
Before Laurel could catch her breath, Nancy spoke up. "You're coming to this."
Laurel grabbed the flyer from her hands, reading the contents. It was for Tina's annual Halloween bash, something Laurel was never interested in. Even if she never took a flyer, and even if she gave them out freely, Laurel knew she wasn't particularly welcomed there.
Laurel also didn't love parties, not with strangers anyways. She's rather be home with a good book and her own thoughts, which Jonathan always teased her about. Then she would fire back the statement of how he'd do the same but with his music. He'd shut up after that.
Laurel sighed, trying to avoid Nancy's soft gaze. while scratching her hip mindlessly. "No, I-I can't...I'm fine."
Laurel finally glanced up to her left when Nancy turned back towards the flyer in her own hands. Over the past summer she had cut her hair up to her shoulders, Laurel couldn't take her eyes off her the first day of class. She also had a knitted sweater, something Laurel thought looked quite cozy. But something deep inside her crippled and rotted, an old feeling that would creep up inside her once in awhile when she remembered her past grief. She couldn't let her see it though.
"I can't let you sit all alone Halloween, that's just not acceptable," Nancy replied while meeting Laurel's gaze, the hole in Laurel chest deepening even more. Laurel quickly turned away.
She'd never look at you the way she looks at Steve. She just feels bad for you because she knows you're a loner. Laurel's anxious thoughts gnawed at her mind. She brushed them off, for the time being at least.
"Well...I'm not gonna be alone," Laurel added on. It was quite truthful, since Jonathan and her would tune into the horror movies being played on the television but end up quitting halfway through as Laurel would get too frightened. But she didn't want to sound too lonely, so she made something up. "I'm going trick-or-treating with Will."
Laurel turned to see Nancy's eyebrows raise slightly. "All night?"
"Yeah."
Nancy shook her head in disbelief. "No, no way. You're gonna be home by 8:00, alone in your room with a Stephen King book in your face, or something." Laurel almost smiled at how right she really was.
Laurel shrugged anyway. "Doesn't sound so bad."
Nancy groaned, eyes rolled while strolling up to her locker. "Laurel, just come. I mean, who knows, you might even, like, meet someone."
Nancy didn't even get the chance to see the saddened look on Laurel's face once she said those words, because soon after Steve came around the corner, scaring her and swooping her off her feet for a moment. A shriek escaped her as she turned to pretend to be mad at Steve, meanwhile the words kept replaying in Laurel's head.
She said you might meet someone. She's trying to get rid of you. There's no chance she still likes you. She had a boyfriend. Why are you so stupid? Don't you realize that kiss was a mistake?
Laurel finally felt that it was time to leave her side, once Steve began kissing her and Laurel's eyes burned with tears.
Laurel walked down the hall, no fault in her step, blinking away the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. She was tired of crying over someone who didn't care.
But Laurel was blind to the fact that after the kiss with Steve, Nancy glanced down the hall with a frown, eyes trailing to the girl with the denim skirt walking down the hall to her next class, almost disappointed that she left so quickly.
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Colours and music engulfed me once I swung open those giant, brass doors, revealing only a sight that little see; the richest and the loveliest of people. Swirls of movements swayed the dance floor, so many colours and shades of dresses I had never seen before flowing and twirling. The women were gracious, but the men were their support, it seemed as though most of the work came from the women in ballgowns.
I breathed in the unfamiliar scent, spices and flavours I hadn't recognized. The only foods I knew were ones bought cheaply in the market, nothing compared to the way these royals ate.
And they had no idea who I was; for all they knew I was just another royal.
I sucked in a large breath (due to the corset that was suffocating my ribcage), pushing my shoulders back to hide my slouch as I marched onward into the crowd. Somehow all my worries of being caught flew away with the melodies being strung with the violins and flutes.
But I stopped midway when I saw one pair of eyes locked onto mine. A woman, standing in the middle of the crowd, looked foreign and noticeable. Not in the bad way, but in the way that you wanted to notice her. She stood alone in a crowd of couples, but her aqua eyes were on mine, piercing yet gentle. I almost tried to look away, but it was as if she had me in a trance.
A small smile stretched across her rose coloured lips, striding towards me, eyes never ceasing to unlock from mine. I wanted to walk forward as well, but her spell kept me in place.
Finally within arms reach, she stopped walking, and opened her mouth to speak to me.
"Care to dance?"
A loud grunt escaped Laurel's mouth as she ripped out the paper from her typewriter and scribbled out the last sentence, which she had been rewriting several times over. She couldn't seem to get it right.
"Why would she ask her that, she doesn't even know her?" Laurel whispered to herself, slamming her pencil on her desk. The brunette then glanced up at her typewriter, guilt filling her eyes.
"Sorry Cal, I didn't mean it," Laurel mumbled, placing her hand softly onto the side of her black typewriter that she named. Last year for Christmas Joyce bought her a typewriter, something to get Laurel's mind off of everything she was going through. Laurel wasn't sure how to feel about it, until the words seemed to just flow out with each finger tap in the late hours of the night when she couldn't sleep.
Her love for writing came from a time of sorrow, but it helped pull her through.
"Whatcha writing?" A voice suddenly asked behind her, Laurel almost shoving her drafts in her desk before realizing it was only Jonathan. Maybe if he got too close she would...Jonathan sometimes pestered her and asked to read her work, mostly for proofreading reasons, but for some reason she just couldn't get herself to doing it.
One night shortly after midnight Will had entered her room, he couldn't sleep, but he could hear her tapping away at the typewriter. He never usually asked about what she wrote, but that night he did. And somehow she felt so vulnerable that night that she let him read it. He got so into the first few drafts that ideas and suggestions couldn't stop flowing from his mouth, which turned into a 2 hour discussion on Laurel's book idea. Now Will was basically the only person she was comfortable with sharing her work.
"Just a scene...I can't get it right though," Laurel answered, biting her lip till she felt pieces of skin come off. Another habit.
"Well...I could help," Jonathan suggested, but before Laurel could disagree he kept speaking. "I promise I won't make fun of you!"
Laurel shut her eyes, reluctantly handing over the last page of her draft. Her stomach flipped at each face movement, every twitch of the eyebrow or every purse of his lips, wondering what he really thought at her words.
Finally he set the paper down on the bed, thinking for a second. "Maybe she should comment on how she looks like an outsider."
"Too obvious."
"Maybe ask where she bought her dress?"
"Too weird."
Jonathan sighed. "Well...maybe she just talks about the music."
Laurel's eyebrows furrowed, letting him know to continue. "Like...maybe the woman talks about how she doesn't really like the music they play, and your character asks why, and then...then she says it's not her type, or...maybe it's too regal and overdone. Then your character asks why she wanted to tell her this and she says your character looks like someone who'd think the same thing."
The gears in Laurel's head were spinning wildly as she ripped the paper from his hands and began scribbling down the idea.
"You can thank me when you become rich and famous from your story," Jonathan said, Laurel snorting at the thought. He was about to leave before he stopped at the doorway.
"How was your session?"
Laurel's hand stopped moving, ignoring the extra beat in her heart before writing more slowly. "It was fine."
Jonathan sighed, knowing that was the typical answer he'd receive. "Did she ask about your sleeping problems?"
"Mhm."
"What about school?"
"Yep."
"Did you guys talk about the dreams?"
This time Laurel's hand halted completely before setting the pencil down and letting out an aggravated sigh. "Dang it, I forgot to tell her-"
Jonathan walked closer to her. "It's fine, you'll see her next week."
"But they're getting worse."
Jonathan's mouth opened to reply, but closed after processing her words. A concerned look washed over his face. "What do you mean worse?"
Laurel let out another sigh, almost wondering if she needed to take out her inhaler. The dreams weren't much to worry over, but once they happened they kept her wide awake at night. The almost nightmares felt too real sometimes. "I don't mean-it's just...they're more persistent."
All funniness washed away completely, leaving him only serious. "How persistent?"
Laurel wanted to not tell him so bad, but she'd gone too far already; she had to tell him. "Almost every night."
Jonathan sighed loudly, his head falling to the ground. "I'm sorry Laurel, we'll figure it out."
Laurel blinked a few times, remembering the dark circles that were probably cradling her eyes that moment. "Yeah."
He took a few moments to think before he spoke up again, touching on a subject matter she didn't want to talk about. "What about your cut?"
Laurel shrugged, fiddling with her fingers. "What about it?"
Jonathan gave her a glare as if telling her you know what I mean. "Is it still bothering you?"
Laurel blinked a few times, trying to recall her feelings. She did scratch it about 5 times today, and the day wasn't even close to being over. "I guess so."
Laurel glanced to her stomach, lifting her sweater up slightly to reveal her familiar wound. The wound that came back into nightmares. The wound that the demogorgon created. It was a slash across her lower left stomach, but was now sewn up. She had to regularly visit the clinic to get it restitched; even after one year it refused to be completely healed.
Now ever since this summer it's been acting strangely, but Laurel tried to not let the minor itching and burning sensations get to her worries too much.
After all, it was just a cut.
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laurel's back yayyayayay
my gay anxious baby is back for season 2, ive got lots of stuff prepared so stay tuned!!
what did you guys think? what do you think is up with laurel and nancy's relationship? what's with the dreams? and what the hell is this cut?
xx