I hear clattering to my left and turn my head sharply to the source, watching as Dustin throws racks and food from the refrigerator. I'm angry to say the least. Hopper and El have both left to go save everyone by closing the gate. Joyce, Jonathan, Nancy, and Will are all off somewhere defeating the Mind Flayer. And where am I? Well I'm here, stuck with my clueless brother, my cowardly friend, two guys that are worrying about their girlfriends and a dead Demo-dog. I'm not saving the world, I'm hiding away like some useless kid.

"Is this really necessary?" Steve asks, holding the dead Demo-dog limp in his arms.

"Yes, it is, okay?" Dustin says loudly, "This is a ground-breaking scientific discovery. We can't just bury it like some common mammal, okay? It's not a dog."

"All right, all right, all right," Steve mutters and brings the animal to the empty fridge, "But you're explaining this to Mrs.
Byers, all right?"

He turns and starts to shove it into the fridge as I stand up, walking over to help out.

"Christ," he says as he tries to shove the creature inside, "Help me out."

"What am I supposed to do?" Dustin whines as I push on the head of the dog and force it inside.

"Get the door, man."

"All right, I got the door." I wipe my hands on my pants as Dustin shoves the door closed. Steve sighs, out of breath as I walk past him and into the other room. Lucas is sweeping shards of glass away with Max as Mike paces aggressively across the floor.

"Mike, would you just stop already?" Lucas says, tired of the continuous sound of Mike's feet hammering into the hardwood.

"You weren't in there, okay, Lucas?" Mike shoots at him. "That lab is swarming with hundreds of those dogs."

"Demo-dogs!" Dustin complains from the kitchen.

"He's right." I say, placing a hand on Mike's shoulder calmingly, "It's full of them. But she'll be safe with Hopper."

"The chief will take care of her." Lucas agrees.

"Like she needs protection." Max mutters pointedly.

"Listen, dude," My brother walks in with Dustin, "a coach calls a play in a game, bottom line, you execute it. All right?"

I roll my eyes at Steve's stupid sports reference and cross my arms.

"But what if the play doesn't affect the game in the best way?" I argue quietly and my brother shoots me a look.

"Doesn't matter, you listen to your coach."

"Okay, first of all, this isn't some stupid sports game." Mike butts in angrily, "And second, we're not even in the game. We're on the bench."

Steve stutters and frowns, "So my point is . . . Right, yeah, we're on the bench, so, uh, there's nothing we can do."

I roll my eyes yet again.

"That's not entirely true." Dustin says, "I mean, these Demo-dogs, they have a hive mind. When they ran away from the bus, they were called away."

I nod along in understanding, "So we need to get their attention."

"To draw them away from the lab, and clear a path to the gate." Mike says in realization.

"Yeah, and then we all die." My brother interrupts.

"That's one point of view." Dustin says.

"No, that's not a point of view, man. That's a fact."

"I got it!" Mike suddenly points to the drawings that are still stuck to the wall, "This is where the chief dug his hole. This is our way into the tunnel."

He drags us into the other room where all the drawings connect, where all the tunnels connect, "So here, right here. This is like a hub. So you got all the tunnels feeding in here. Maybe if we set this on fire—"

"Oh, yeah, that's a no." Steve tries to stop this, but Mike doesn't listen.

"—The mind flayer would call away his army."

"They'd all come to stop us." I say.

"We circle back to the exit—"

"Guys."

"—By the time they realize we're gone . . ."

"—El would be at the gate."

"Hey." My brother points at us with his dish towel, "Hey! Hey! This is not happening."

"But—"

"No, no, no, no, no. No buts." He swings the towel back on his shoulder, "I promised I'd keep you shitheads safe, and that's exactly what I plan on doing. We're staying here. On the bench. And we're waiting for the starting team to do their job."

I frown, "This is our best option to help ou—"

"Does everybody understand?" Steve interrupts me.

"This isn't a stupid sports game." Mike repeats.

"I said does everybody understand that?" Steve nearly shouts, "I need a yes."

We're all silent, all equally pissed. I'm about to argue again when the roaring of a vaguely familiar engine interrupts me. I hear loud rock music just as loud as the revving, and I know exactly where I've heard the car before. It was Max's brother, and the last time I saw him he almost ran me over.

Max runs to the window and I follow with Lucas, seeing the blue Chevrolet Camaro pulling into the driveway.

"It's my brother." Max says quietly, "He can't know I'm here. He'll kill me. He'll kill us."

My brother looks pissed, and he turns to us, "Stay here, I'll take care of this."

"Be careful." Max and I say and Steve nods.

"Make sure you're not seen."

He walks out of the door and we all rush to the window as the car screeches to a stop and the music turns off. Max's brother Billy gets out of his car and slams the door, a lit cigarette hanging from his mouth.

"Am I dreaming, or is that you, Harrington?" I can hear his taunting voice, though it's muffled through the windows.

"Yeah it's me, don't cream your pants," Steve says, sounding almost bored as Billy takes off his jacket.

"What are you doing here, amigo?" Billy takes a few steps towards my brother, who does the same.

"I could ask you the same thing. Amigo," Steve answers nonchalantly and crosses his arms.

"Looking for my stepsister." Billy's cigarette wiggles as he speaks, and he grabs it to puff out some of the smoke before sticking it right back in. "A little birdie told me she was here."

"Huh, that's weird," My brother says, almost too quiet for us to hear. "I don't know her."

"Small? Redhead?" Billy gestures and it's so quiet I have to half read his lips, "Bit of a bitch."

"Doesn't ring a bell." I think I hear Steve say.
"Sorry, buddy."

Billy sighs and puffs out some more smoke.

"You know, I don't know, this—" He clicks his tongue and points to the house, "This whole situation, Harrington, I don't know. It's giving me the heebie-jeebies."

"Oh, yeah? Why's that?"

"My 13-year-old sister goes missing all day." Billy says, "And then I find her with you in a stranger's house. And you lie to me about it."

My brother chuckles as if this fact amuses him, "Man, were you dropped too much as a child, or what? I don't know what you don't understand about what I just said. She's not here."

"Then who is that?" Billy points to the window and I pull myself down before the others. I doubt they could hear what the guys were saying, because I was mostly reading lips, and they only duck down after my brother looks too.

"Shit!"

"Did he see us?"

I peek just my eyes over the window and watch Steve turn back around only to be shoved to the ground by Billy. I'm immediately on my feet and out the door in a flash as he tells my brother to plant his feet and kicks him again.

I close the door behind me and speed walk over to the situation.

"Hey!" I shout right up at Billy, "You stay the hell away from my brother!"

I point up at him, and he begins to walk towards me, stepping over Steve's body and smirking through his cigarette.

"Well well well," He says and steps closer. I don't back up. "Harrington has a sister?"

I narrow my eyes, "What gives you the right to think you're better than everyone, huh?"

He chuckles at me, but then goes serious, "Move it, or you'll have the same fate as him."

"I'm not scared of you," I say.

He laughs again and flicks the cigarette into my face. I don't flinch, acting much stronger than I feel.

He suddenly lunges towards me, but I'm ready and I duck under his swing and bring my fist up and underneath his jaw. He grunts and takes a few steps backwards, but I know I wasn't strong enough to do much damage. Soon enough, he's balanced again and comes flying at me. I have no time to think as he pushes me to the ground and kicks me in the ribs. I groan and he chuckles again.

"I guess it runs in the family."

He saunters into the house and I wheeze for air, my head spinning as I remember the last time I lay in pain with Steve like this.

~~~~~~flashback~~~~~~

I hobble down the steps from my room to eat dinner. I have been camping in my room upstairs like usual, my large cast plastered around my broken leg. It's been a month since I got out from the hospital, and things have sucked. I haven't been able to go to school, and I've missed out on the basketball season, which I was really looking forward to. The boys have tried to hang out with me, but Mike is hardly able to smile even when I crack the worst jokes about my leg. He's been really down lately about El, but with Will back he's trying to stay positive. They bring me my homework and keep me up to date with all the happenings at school. I've been having horrible nightmares every night, always waking up screaming and thrashing around everywhere. Steve has had to rush into my room and get me to shut up, because we don't want our father to be awaken. So far we've been lucky, but I know one night he'll wake up to my screams, and I dread that moment.

Tonight is Sunday night, and that is the night when all three of us eat together at a table. It's always a horrible time, with Steve and my dad getting into arguments constantly about my brother's grades and my father yelling at me for being useless. It always starts out quietly until someone begins a conversation, which usually ends up leading to a heated argument.

I reach the bottom of the staircase at last, and use my crutches to get myself into the kitchen, seated next to my brother and dad. I remember when my mom used to sit at this table too, and they would be the ones arguing at the dinner table. I remember being seven years old, the first time my dad had hit me. He would always hit my brother, and I would constantly cry when he did. One time, I'd had enough and I yelled at my dad to stop hurting Steve. He had looked at me with drunk eyes and turned on my fragile body. I remember how scared I was and how much Steve had cried. My mom had left the house to smoke and she could hear the screaming, though she didn't care.

After that, my dad began a routine of hitting me. He still hit Steve more that is, and as we both grew older Steve grew cold and mean. He began hitting me too, and I would be his number one punching bag whenever he needed to let off some steam. I got used to it, and soon stopped bothering to cry or struggle. I just let it happen. Steve became one of the most popular guys when he went to high school, and he'd always take me and beat me up in front of people to impress them. I was broken in that time, from when I was seven to when Steve softened up. But my dad never did soften up, and I never did heal from my mental, emotional, and physical injuries.

But it helps now, now that it's not my whole family against me. Steve cares for me, and he protects me. He can't always be there of course, but he does his best, and that's all that matters.

Dinner is spaghetti, stale because my dad got Steve to make it. Usually for Sunday dinners I make the meal, but since I'm 'crippled,' Steve insists that I rest and he makes it.

I've already lost my appetite, because my stomach churns thinking of who will talk first. Finally my dad clears his throat and glances at me.

"Remind me of how your leg got like that again." It wasn't a question, it was more of a command; just like most things he says to me.

"Um . . ." I cough, "It was a biking incident. I ran over a root and went over the handlebars."

He narrows his eyes and nods to my arms, "What about all those scars huh?"

I glance at my arms, where small white slashes can be seen scattered everywhere from the Demogorgon's vicious claws. Some still have stitches in them, but the bad ones are mostly the ones on my chest.

"Well when I fell over the handlebars I fell into a prickle bush." I say. I remember the days when I used to be great at lying; I don't know what happened.

My dad doesn't seem to think much of it, and shrugs, "So you didn't even bother to call me while you were in the hospital?"

I swallow hard, "Uh . . . Well you see I was unconscious, or else I would've called you. I didn't really know what was happening, because . . . 'cause of the painkillers and stuff."

Steve takes a huge bite of spaghetti, as if trying to shove the amount of tension in the room down his throat. My dad puts down his fork and sighs, leaning back slightly in his seat.

The glow of the fluorescent lights in our kitchen make my dad's grey hairs really shine. I find myself staring at his head, wondering when he got old. I can't remember a day when he was young. I guess I just have this vision of him in my head now. Ever since I was seven years old, even before that, when he began picking on Steve. I've seen him as a monster, someone to fear. Someone incapable of loving. Someone incapable of growing or changing. I don't know if he ever even loved my mom. I don't know if I ever loved her. She was useless sure, but she was my mom. And she left me. She left me with the monster. I don't even know if she's still in Hawkins, I don't know where she is at all.

"So you didn't call me either?" My dad turns to Steve, who stares at him with such a blank expression I'm almost convinced he went brain dead. But I know that's not true the minute I recognize the hatred hidden in his eyes.

"What were you gonna do, Frank?" My brother says and I suck in a quick breath. My dad hates it when we call him by his name, and I can already see uncontrolled anger flash behind his eyes. He doesn't need alcohol to get reckless.

"Were you gonna come and see her?" Steve pushes, "Because based on past experiences, you've put Liz in the hospital more times than you've visited her. You don't care that she broke her leg, you wouldn't care if she died."

"Steve." I whisper in warning, but my dad is already angry.

"Hey, you better watch it son." He says, venom dripping from his tongue, "Or I'll put you in the hospital."

"I'd like to see you try." Steve mutters and takes another bite of spaghetti as I put my head in my hands.

"What was that?" My dad asks, though we all know he heard Steve. He stands up and my brother glances at him, a challenging look still in his eye.

There's silence, and it's like that feeling you get in your chest right before something bad happens was spreading through the room. The ominous feeling that is constantly drifting through my household. The feeling that I associate with my childhood, and my home.

Then he strikes. Steve's plate clatters to the floor as my dad grabs his throat and dives across the table. I have no time to react as Steve and my dad tumble to the ground, rolling over until Steve is on top. My brother punches my dad in the jaw, who throws him off and begins attacking him.

"Stop!" I scream as my father punches Steve in the nose. I stand up with a struggle and have to take a moment as pain rushes into my leg.

My dad picks Steve off the ground and slams him into the wall. Steve grunts and knees my father in the crotch, who grits his teeth and doubles over slightly. Steve takes this as a chance to attack and pushes my dad off of him, blood streaming down his face.

"You're getting too old for this, dad." Steve taunts. I know that voice. It's his voice of power. The voice that shows when he loses control. I remember that voice from all those times he beat me up in parking lots. The times where he showed his power over me through physical abuse. It makes my head spin, hearing that voice, and I know I can't let this fight go on any longer.

But they're back at it. They begin fist fighting, each getting a lot of hits in before I hobble over to them.

"Stop!" I shout and pull on my brother's sleeve, "Please! Just stop it!"

They don't pay me any attention, and I stumble back as my brother nudges me. My father punches him and takes him to the ground, pinning him.

"I'm never too old to teach you a lesson." He grins maliciously with blood draining from a cut above his eyebrow. The way the light shines on him makes him look like some crazy serial killer that escaped from a mental hospital.

Then he begins hammering down on Steve. He knows he's won, but he won't stop, and I scream in frustration.

"Get off him!!" I scream and throw myself onto my father, forgetting my leg and instead shoving my dad off of my brother. He goes tumbling to the ground and Steve rolls over onto his side and groans. I turn to my dad, who stares at me with such intensity that I thought he was gonna blow up.

I stand my ground, even as my dad stalks towards me with a smirk that should make me cower.

"You better get outta the way." He threatens and I don't show my fear.

"No. You've hurt him enough, just leave." I say firmly and he chuckles.

"You think you're in any state to stand up to me?" He asks, cocking his head tauntingly to the side.

"It doesn't matter what state I'm in, I will always stand up to you." I say, more bravely than I feel. My dad chuckles again, but suddenly grabs my throat and fully lifts me off the ground until I'm eye to eye with him. He squeezes my neck and soon enough I can't breath, wheezing and gasping and clawing at my dad's hands.

"You're weak." He spits, "And useless."
I feel my face turning purple and tears come to my eyes.

"I could kill you right now."

He drops me to the ground and I stumble back until I hit the wall, sliding down it and ignoring the throbbing pain in my leg.

He comes over and stands above me, baring his teeth, showing his authority. He places his foot on my leg and lightly presses down, yet it still hurts like hell.

"That leg's gotta be pretty fragile you know." He whispers and pushes harder until I let out a scream. He smirks and turns, walking from the room, leaving me and my brother broken and helpless.

I open my eyes again and decide that I can't let my friends take on Billy by themselves. My ribs ache, but I push myself off of the ground and stagger towards the house. No one deserves to be taken advantage of, and I know that Billy is a guy who thinks that he has the right to take advantage of everyone and everything. I won't let my friends get hurt.

I swing open the door with heart in my head and don't hesitate to run towards the fight.

^*^*^*^*^

Hello bromigos.

I am so sorry about true slow updates but it's summer now so hooray. Anyways, long chapter. Working on the next. Comment any corrections please.

Toodles.