My eyes snap open and I shut them again, the unfamilar bright light making my head hurt.

"Kid." A rough hand grabs my shoulder and shakes me awake, making my head pound. I try to make noise, but all that comes out is a raspy wheeze, my raw throat allowing nothing else. I hear a man sigh, and the familiar nature of it makes my mind whir with realization. My eyes snap open as my most previous memories rush back into my mind, along with the hunger rushing back into my stomach. I didn't think it was possible for my body to ache more, but it does. My legs feel like they've been massaged with lumpy rocks for hours on end. My head pounds like a thousand little hammers beating on my skull. My face stings, some of my old cuts are re-opened and my bruises are all sore. My stomach feels like tiny men went into my gut and cleaned everything out, scraping the walls and leaving my insides to twist and turn.

I see his face, looking down at me and frowning with concern. When he sees that my eyes are opened he looks relieved, running a hand through his messy hair. I look around me then, trying to recognize the place I lie in. I'm on the floor, in the corner of an unfamiliar room. It's messy, the coffee table that sits by the couch is covered with junk food.

I try to sit up, but Hopper's rough hand pushes me back down, "Not a chance."

I try to protest, opening my mouth to argue, but all that comes out is a strained whisper. I frown, trying to talk again. This time I manage to find a little voice, though it hurts too much, and I'm forced to stop. The Chief looks at me and smiles slightly.

"You've never been so quiet," I scowl at his smug expression, "It's kind of nice."

Though I cannot speak, I do manage to growl slightly at the man, ignoring his hand and sitting up anyways.

"You look like hell," He watches as I struggle to stand, clutching at a nearby table for support. I'm tired of not being able to speak, so I take a deep breath and try as hard as I can to make noise.

"M'fine." I manage to squeak out before I clutch my neck in pain. Hopper shakes his head, grabbing my arm and leading me over to the couch.

"You're not fine." He pushes me slightly and I immediately lose my balance and fall onto the sofa. I look up at his face and see that he's distracted, like he wants to do something important but knows he should take care of me first. He keeps glancing at the phone or the lights or the seams of the furniture. His hand twitches slightly and I sigh.

"G....go." I say horsely, wincing in pain. He looks at me, and seems ro understand that I've noticed his itching to do his job.

"You need to eat first," He helps me off the couch and leads me to a door. "Get cleaned up as best as you can while I get you some food."

I nod and grab the doorway, stepping into the bathroom. I turn on the light by leaning on it and clutch the sink. Looking up into the mirror makes me gasp. I look terrible.

My face is shallow, my cheeks sucked in and my bagged eyes wandering. My hair sits in a loose ponytail, tangled and dirty. My bandaged wrist is bloody from my bike fall, and my shirt is ripped. My face is bruised and my pale skin makes my injuries stand out. Pulling up my shirt, I can see my ribcage stretching against my filthy skin. It hurts to move, and I know washing my face will be difficult.

So I take it one step at a time. I run the water warm and squirt out some soap. Gently, I wash my aching face and get rid of the dried blood and dirt. I wash my hands and run a comb through my hair. After a couple minutes, I turn off the light and stagger my way through the hallway.

The wall isn't very helpful when my knees give up beneath me and I collapse to the floor. I gasp in pain, my head pounding with the sound of blood pumping vigorously through my ears. I hit the ground hard, rolling over onto my back and twitching slightly with pain. I am weak, and have no energy left in me. I lie there, hearing Hopper's heavy feet come running into the hall.

He helps me off the ground and to a chair, sitting me down. As he places a sandwich down in front of me, I stare at it.

"You eat, I have some business to take care of." He then leaves the room immediately, and I turn to my food. Distantly, I can hear him crashing around in the living space, but my only focus is the messy sandwich that sits tauntingly in front of my eyes. With pain, I lift my arms to the table and grab the sandwich, bringing it to my mouth. Just as I take a bite of the stale bread, Hopper comes bursting through the kitchen door, grabbing the phone and smashing it against the table. I jump, startled by his actions. He doesn't glance at me as he looks under the sink and unscrews the light above us. I take another bite of my food and Hopper walks over to the table I sit at. He flips it over and I almost choke with surprise. He searches under it and then growls, leaving the room. I hear more crashing around in the other room, and I desperately wish I had enough energy to go see what he's doing. My curiousity itches my muscles, but I stay put, finishing my sandwich slowly. Every bite leaves a weird feeling in my stomach, and by the time I'm finished, I feel nauseous. I stand up from my chair and immediately have to sit back down, my head rushing with dizziness. I take it slow, holding on to my chair and standing up, knowing I don't have much time before I burst. I close my eyes and feel the walls, heading for the bathroom. Taking deep breaths, I enter the bathroom and use the last of my momentum to fall to the toilet, leaning over it.

The vomit scratches my throat and brings tears to my eyes, the sickly colour of the sandwich I just ate. It burns the inside of my throat and mouth, making it even more raw than it was before. I'm soon done, and I breath heavily, my hands shaking against the side of the toilet. Breathing makes my neck feel like it's being run over with sandpaper, and I feel the tears stream from my face.

I sigh, leaning against the wall and letting my head fall back. I close my eyes and let the tears fall, bring my knees up to my chest and burying my face between them.

I'm a lot of things. I'm loud, I'm stubborn, and I'm sometimes a bit of a bitch. But the one thing I'm not is a complainer. I know it is a hopeless thing to do, complain, it just makes people dislike you even more. And I know that, no matter how tough I may think my life is, there's always someone out there that has to go through something a million times worse. So I let it happen, I don't take pity on myself because I know that I could be in a much worse situation. So what if my dad's an asshole? So what if my brother takes pleasure in my pain? At least I have fresh water and all that jazz. My life will get better, I believe that. I'll move out as soon as possible, and I don't ever have to see Steve or my dad ever again.

So as I sit there, crying into my legs and feeling the pain of my raspy throat, I think about everything. I think about seeing Will in the other dimension. The Upside Down. I know I have to find out if he made it back, if he found the portal that I came through. I think about how crazy it's going to sound when I tell Hopper where I've been, except hopefully this time he'll believe me. I have so many questions to ask, but there's no way I have any voice to say them.

"Hey." He stands in the doorway and speaks more gently then I've ever heard before. There is no trace of the usual anger I know he feels towards me, the anger I'm so used to hearing in his voice. It's like a new person, standing in front of me, putting all of our disagreements aside because he knows I'm in pain. Pain that I refuse to show.

I quickly wipe my tears away and drop my knees from my face, throwing a fake smile up at Hopper. I can tell in his face that he doesn't fall for it for one second. He's a cop, and he's on to me.

"Don't do that." He says, "Don't pretend you're okay when you just went through something horrible. It's okay to show pain sometimes.

I shake my head, trying to say I'm fine but all I get out is a hoarse whisper.

He helps me off the ground and looks deep into my eyes. I try not to look away, showing him that I'm fine, but a single tear slides down my cheek and I curse my tearducts.

"Look, I know you're tough." I glance away and he directs my chin so I face him, "I know that you don't like to show your emotions, I'm the same way. But we're alone, I'm giving you the chance to cry because I know that you have had a shitty childhood. Please, don't try to hold in your feelings, it's not good for you."

I try, desperately, not to let his words get to me. I try to stick to my morals, my inner Liz telling me the same thing she always does. Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry.

But one glance at his pleading face, the only time I've ever seen an expression that isn't anger on his features. One glance at the man that I can't believe I ever considered to be as vile as my father and I explode. Tears rush down my face at an unimaginable speed as I think of everything I've been through. I look down in shame at my weakness. Hopper touches my chin and I look up through teary eyes to see him smiling slightly.

"Don't be ashamed." He says and pulls me into a hug, "Come here."

I throw my arms around him, desperate for the affection that no one's ever given me. Desperate for someone to let myself explode on. He isn't a bad hugger, which surprises me, because he doesn't seem like the type to show affection very often. I try to stop the tears, but they flow down my cheeks, even when I pull away from the hug and wipe my face.

"Sorry." It's a quiet, strained whisper, but he hears it, and I see a look of anger flash briefly across his face.

"Don't ever be sorry." I smile at him, only then noticing the small thing in his hand. I recognize what it is, and my head tilts to the side in confusion. He sees me looking at it, and holds up the broken bug.

"They bugged us." He says, "I don't know how long it's been going on, but I can guarantee it's been a while."

I don't know who he is talking about. But I assume he doesn't know either.

"Will." I say, hoping that he'll tell me that the boy has been reunited with his mother.

"You were right." He looks reluctant to say, "The body in the lake wasn't his. I went to investigate Hawkins Lab, and found that....gate thing. The one you came out of."

"All this time, when you said he was alive." He looks at me, "All this time you knew he was out there, and I didn't believe you. I'm sorry."

I sniffle and nod, "Me too."

"You have no reason to be sorry." He protests and I raise an eyebrow.

"Trouble." I say in a strangled whisper. He shakes his head.

"It's fine."

I try to smile, but it turns into a grimace when I feel a tickle in my throat and break out into a hacking cough. It stings my throat, and I gasp in pain.

"Burns." I whisper through cough. It dies down and I lean against the wall, closing my eyes.

"I'm sorry this happened to you." Hopper says, "It's my fault. I scared you."

"No." I say, "I....should've.....stayed. Stayed...home."

He sighs, and I do too, knowing I have a million questions and so little ways to ask them.

"Will." I whisper and Hopper nods.

"He must be where you were." I sigh in frustration, wishing I could talk. "Did you see him, in the...dimension?"

I nod, looking around and motioning for a writing utensil. He nods, taking me into the kitchen and turning the table back onto it's legs. He grabs a piece of scrap paper and a pen, and placing it in front of me. It's lucky I'm left handed, because my right hand definitely won't let me write in its condition.

I was riding my bike and heard his voice singing. I found the portal and went through it. I saw Will, but I got chased away by the monster that I told you about earlier, the Demogorgon. I ran and slept up a tree, and I hoped that Will had found the portal that I came through. If he's not back yet, I guess he wasn't so lucky.

I stop there, my aching hand preventing me from writing any further. The writing is sloppy, but it's legible, and Hopper reads it quickly.

"So I just have to go back to that portal and find him." He says and I shake my head.

Not you. Us.

"There's not a chance you're going back there." He goes back to old Hopper quicker than I thought possible, "You're never going back there."

Yes, I am. I write, You're not going alone.

"Well you're certainly not going with me," He says, "No discussion."

Then he take my pen, and my paper. I stand up to get them back, stumbling but keeping my balance. I cross my arms in anger.

"Not....fair." I manage to get out. He places the pen in his pocket and crumples the paper.

"The decision is final, and you can't argue anyways, so there's no point."

I feel anger boil up inside me, and I fall back into my seat, fuming.

"Coming." I wince in pain.

"No, you're not." He says.

"Yes." I flinch.

"No." He raises his eyebrows.

"Yes." I resist from clutching my throat in pain.

"No."

"Yes." My voice cracks, and I gasp in pain, my raw throat scratching in pain.

"Are you seriously putting yourself through pain just to win an argument?" Hopper looks disbelieving and I roll my eyes.

"Coming. Final. No discussion." My voice travels in and out, mainly a hoarse whisper, with a few painful voice cracks.

I can see him smile slightly, turning around and opening the fridge.

"We need to get some food in you. You get cranky when you're hungry."

AUTHOR'S NOTE~~~~~

Hey folks,

I honestly have nothing to say so ya know.....Yada yada yada yada.

I'm too lazy to think of a questions so bye.