stranger things · eleven · psychic powers · upside down · trauma · vulnerable · resilient · 80s nostalgia · supernatural · silent
The fluorescent lights of Hawkins Middle School hummed a sickly yellow, flickering in erratic spasms that threw long, shuddering shadows across the blood-slicked linoleum. The air hung heavy with the iron scent of blood and the sharp, burnt smell of spent psychic force. A final, ragged screech from the Demogorgon echoed down the hall, bouncing off the lockers before it died in the classroom where you all stood frozen. Eleven was braced against the chalkboard, her small frame trembling as she held the creature aloft, a thin thread of blood tracing from her nostril down to her lip. The boys were pressed against the far wall, hands clamped tight over their ears. You leaned against a desk, the cold metal edge biting into your palm, your own heart hammering against your ribs like a trapped bir…