***

Sophie was unsure what compelled her to ask Steve Harrington, her brother's new rival, to take her home. Maybe it's because he owed her one, after all, she's the one who took him home when he was too drunk to stand on his own two feet.

They drove in silence at first, the car moving slowly through downtown Hawkins. His built-in radio was muted, leaving them with the ambience of an engine rustling under their feet. She was glad he wasn't speeding like Billy, granting her a better look at the selection of shops and cafes available to them. The pair continued down the quiet street, soon parking outside Melvald's General Store. He handed her some cash and told her to pick out anything under ten dollars, but it didn't take her long to come out of the store with a packaged chicken sandwich in her grasp.

Sophie climbed inside, slipping the change into a small cup holder. As she settled back into the passenger seat, the car door wide open, Steve eyed the food item, his lip curling upwards. "Is that all you bought?"

She lowered her brows, raising the octave of her voice. "What did you expect, a roast dinner?"

Steve barely flinched, his shoulders drooping as he wore a sour expression. "No little pudding?"

Her hand was already reaching for the seatbelt, only pausing when a curious thought came to mind. Sophie stared at him, slightly squinting. "Did you want a little pudding?"

He shook his head, his left hand flexing on the steering wheel. "No, no." Steve cracked his knuckles, staring out at the road. His lips pressed into a tight, thin line. "Well..."

Sophie pointed at the general store with her free hand, more than willing to buy something else if he was hungry too. "I can go back in."

"No, er, we've already wasted enough time as it is." Steve twisted the ignition key and the car buzzed to life.

"If you say so." The packaged sandwich sat on her lap as Sophie pulled the seatbelt across her body, strapping herself in.

"Try not to get breadcrumbs on the leather." He told her.

It was an expensive car, no doubt, but she assured him. "I'm very delicate with food, don't worry."

Her nails picked at the plastic wrapping and the flimsy cardboard that contained the sandwich. Steve pulled away from the kerb, taking one last sorrowful look at the general store. The car ride returned to silence, neither was sure what to say next. 

She took a small bite out of her sandwich, chewing the dry wholemeal bread. A tiny seed deep in the crust soon found itself lodged in her teeth as she swallowed the cold chicken. Picking it out with her tongue wasn't doing the trick, forcing her to take action. 

Sophie huffed, placing the sandwich on her lap again. Her fingers slipped between the sun visor, shifting it downwards. The small mirror flipped open and she leaned forward, her mouth widening. Her eyes scanned her teeth, finding the seed jammed between her molars. Reluctantly, she stuck a finger inside, trying to dig it out or at least loosen it.

Steve glimpsed it in the corner of his eye, curling his lip and muttering. "Ew."

"Hey, I've seen you drool." She fought back, unaffected by his disgust. "Keep your eyes on the road."

He didn't argue, understanding she had some leverage against him. It amazed him how one drunken night would somehow tie him to Billy Hargrove's twin sister. To be honest, he was still unsure if this was a good or bad thing.

The seed was finally freed from her teeth and she swallowed, letting it go free. She didn't use to like wholemeal bread, fearing that if she swallowed a seed, a plant would develop inside her. Its roots would grow to consume her stomach and a bloody flower would bloom in her throat.

Sophie took a second bite, her gaze drifting from the mirror to the outside world. Skeletal trees stood tall, their rigid branches reaching out towards the sky. Various shades of orange and red leaves danced on the wind, swirling in the crisp air. A flock of birds flew above in an arrow-like formation, travelling to a warmer place; they always sensed when there was a chill in the air. What would it be like to fly with them, soaring far from the cold?

She peered back at Steve, tilting her head forward. "Do you like fall?"

He narrowed his eyes, sputtering. "What?"

"You know, like, the season?" Sophie briefly elaborated.

Steve hesitated, his nose twitching. "Are you asking if I like the weather?"

It was taking a while for him to catch on, but Sophie persisted. "No, I don't care about the weather. I'm asking if you actually like fall in general."

"I don't know." He shrugged, his right hand gliding down to the gearstick. "It's not quite summer and it's not quite winter yet -- it's a weird transitional thing," Steve stated, his grip tightening on the steering wheel as they turned a corner, "and you know, the trees are dying, so that isn't good."

It had always been clear to her that Steve was more brawn than brain, but perhaps that's because he'd been fed from a silver spoon his entire life. His parents showered him with anything but true love, leaving him stuck in this internal limbo. Sophie still wasn't sure whether to feel sorry for him yet.

"No, it's the leaves that die." She raised the sandwich towards her lips. "Why do you think we call it "Fall"?"

As she nibbled the bread, ripping a wrinkly piece of lettuce from it, Steve's jaw went slack. "Oh." After adjusting the gears, he brushed his fingers through his soft yet thick hair, lightly snarling. "Well, that's a boring name for a season."

He wasn't wrong. Sophie preferred its true name to the one given, believing that Autumn sounded more bewitching. 

She looked out of her window, glimpsing young kids with their parents who were walking them home from school. There was a blonde mother with a little boy on her shoulders, bouncing along the sidewalk. For a second, she almost thought-

Sophie discarded the thought. If her mother could go anywhere, it wouldn't be Indiana -- she'd want a place by the sea, and the ocean was nowhere near here.

"I like fall better here." She confessed, earning a quick glance from Steve. "California only gets hotter, and where I lived wasn't as-"

"Overgrown?"

"Yeah."

Though his focus remained on the road before him, his gaze wandered a little, observing the fallen leaves and noticing how homeowners kept their Halloween decorations hung up. His parents were never huge fans of the season, believing it to be tacky and almost unneeded. By the time Halloween was over, their Christmas tree would already be up in their living room.

But since they were away a lot now, Steve started to gain a newfound appreciation for it. "I guess it's nice."

"I love the colours." She commented as they entered a more verdant area of Hawkins, leaving the small neighbourhood behind them.

He cleared his throat, straightening up his seat. "But that's the leaves dying -- you just said that."

"They die looking pretty, okay?" His disillusioned view of the world was tiring to listen to. "I'm sure you'd like to look nice when you die."

There was a glint of horror in his expression -- that wasn't something he wanted to hear. "God, you're a little morbid, you know."

Okay, maybe she could have worded that better. She blinked a couple of times, lowering her chin with a soft murmur. "Sorry."

Sophie shifted a little to her right, leaning nearer the window. Without diverting her gaze, she placed the sandwich back in its torn packaging, losing her appetite.

The uncomfortable silence returned, their words weighing down on them. Not even her rides home with Billy and Max were this awkward, there was always some tension in the air.

Steve tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, grimacing. The heating was too high for the both of them, but it barely fazed him, his thoughts too troubling for him to care about the temperature.

She bit down on her chapped lips, her cheeks burning. The air conditioning was within reach, but Sophie wasn't sure if she had permission to turn it up. She stared at him, slowly reaching for the dial. "Do you mind if I-?"

"I think I broke up with Nancy." He blurted. Sophie froze, her arm raised.

He thinks?

Her eyes darted back and forth, becoming apprehensive. "The other night?"

"Well, it felt like a breakup then," his breath caught in his chest, and he ground his teeth, "but I think I made it official yesterday."

She pulled back, but her focus stayed on him. "You sound unsure."

"I know." The car neared a wide bridge built over a rushing river. He wiped his palm across his forehead, dragging it down his cheek. "It's stupid -- I shouldn't be talking to you about this."

Sophie twisted her head away, her attention drawn to the open bridge. They were the only ones crossing it; no other vehicle was in sight. And the flowing water beneath them -- its crashing rapids could drown out any other noise made.

It gave her an idea, but she wasn't sure if Steve would accept it.

"You don't have to." Her head snapped towards him, folding the sleeves of her sky-blue blouse. "Pull over."

He stuttered. "Uh, what?"

She returned a curt nod. "Pull over right here. This exact spot." Steve stepped on the brake, slowing the car down, but he didn't stop. His stunned silence matched his look of confusion, his eyes glued to hers. She was fully prepared to chuck her sandwich at his head. "Come on -- pull over!"

"Alright!" he yanked the gearstick into neutral. "Geez..." They came to a stop, nearing the end of the bridge. Sophie jumped out, wandering around the car as Steve emerged from his side, flipping his hair in annoyance. "What's your deal?"

Sophie ignored him, jogging over the ledge of the bridge. Her palms pressed against the cool stone, taking a breath of autumnal air. This seemed like a quiet area of Hawkins, practically perfect for what she wanted to do. "Yeah, this is good."

"What does that mean?" He placed his hands on his hips, his eyes bulging. "You're not planning on throwing yourself over the ledge, are you?"

"No." She responded.

His mouth gaped, pointing to himself. "Are you gonna throw me off the ledge?"

"No!" She spun around, leaning against the stone. "Look, you're frustrated, full of anger and regret..." Sophie stepped forward, gesturing. "... and I want you to let it out."

He returned a blank stare, blinking rapidly. "Huh?"

This wasn't going to be easy to explain and it was gonna sound a little strange. "Okay -- you remember when I found you on the porch, right?"

"Uh," he scratched the back of his neck, "yeah, I think so."

She took another step towards him, folding her arms. "You remember the screaming then?"

Steve sucked in his cheeks, glancing off to the side for a brief moment. "... Okay, I thought I hallucinated that."

Sophie shook her head, a slight flush creeping across her cheeks. "Yeah, you didn't."

"But what's that got to do with standing on a bridge?" he questioned.

Her lips popped, hesitating a little bit. Eventually, she met his eyes and said. "I want you to scream, Steve Harrington."

His vacant face twisted, his lips curling into a slight smirk as he tucked his hands into his pockets. "You know, you're not the first girl to say that to me."

She jerked backwards, her face pinched. "Ew! No, that's not what I meant!"

His smile fell, and he rolled his eyes with a huff. "Yeah, well -- why'd you want me to scream anyway? What's it for?"

"It's how I..." she adjusted her collar, pouting, "... it's how I vent." Sophie turned her back to him, her fingers curling into fists. "Bottling up emotions takes a lot out of you," her nails dug into her palm, denting the thin layer of skin, "and they can break out at the worst times." 

Memories came flashing back, taunting her emotions once more. Neil mocked her warm tears, calling her a crybaby before hitting her again and again. The torrid abuse was neverending, and it only made her feel worse about herself. Maybe one day she'd learn to live with the trauma -- find a way to move on.

She released a long, soft breath, her hands unfurling. Sophie spun back, meeting his confused gaze. "So, you have to find some way to release them before you burst."

Steve's hands were back on his waist, and the corner of his lip twitched. "Was that supposed to be a metaphor or something?"

Sophie crossed her arms, sighing. "Just try it."

"Er," his mouth hung open, "no way."

"It doesn't hurt." She insisted.

"It'll hurt more than just my dignity," Steve commented, rubbing the back of his neck. His head moved in short, jerky movements, looking around. "Alright, screaming in public only makes you look like a maniac."

He was trying to act coy about it, but he was worried the students of Hawkins High were waiting beyond the trees, ready to pop out and laugh at him.

"Are you afraid?" she scoffed. "Has Billy already put the fear of god in you?"

"No, I-" Steve crossed his arms over his chest, tucking his hands under his armpits. "- I'm just saying people will think I'm nuts if I do something like that."

She lowered her chin. "Do you think I'm nuts?"

"A little bit, actually -- yeah." He wiped his chin, walking a little to his right. "I mean, you go from acting sweet to acting hostile to now acting a little psycho. You're kinda throwing me every which way."

Sophie shook her head, shedding a pensive smile. "You barely know me."

"I know -- that's what makes this so frustrating!" he changed directions mid-stride, scraping his fingers through his hair.

That outburst -- now they were getting somewhere.

As he began to pace back and forth, Sophie took his vexation one step further. "I bet your college essay seems frustrating too!"

"Yeah, it is!" Steve fired back.

He was tipping on the edge, she could sense it. Sophie stepped forward, her arms outstretched by her sides. "I bet you just wish you could get it over and done with!"

His muscles grew rigid, his jaw clenching. "Yeah, I do!"

"You just want everything to go the way you want it to, but that's not how the world works, Steve!" she yelled at him. He stopped, his head snapping towards her. "Doesn't that just make you angry? Doesn't that make you wanna scream?"

He wore a pinched expression, and his hands balled into irritated fists. Steve glared at her with a glint of fury in his eyes -- as if he were about to attack her. And sure, it unnerved her; almost reminding her of Billy and their dad.

But then he shoved past her, storming over to the ledge. Steve inhaled deeply, his fists bearing down on the old brickwork as he squeezed his eyes shut. The veins in his neck stuck out as he released a long-withheld scream -- one that could rival her own.

It reverberated against the rapidly shifting water, still echoing in the distance once he lost the air in his lungs. Steve clutched his chest, struggling to catch his breath. He leaned on the stone, pivoting away from the river.

Sophie stood nearby, her arms folded once again, but, this time, her lips were curved into a smug grin. "Feel better?"

"Yeah..." Whatever that was -- it worked its magic over him. "Okay, that's weird."

Her chin perked up, exposing her neck. "Told you."

He smoothed down his clothes, chuckling to himself. "What is it about you Hargroves?" 

The question played on her mind briefly, her cockiness diminishing. There were few answers she could give: We're screwed up. We feel like mistakes. Our dad fucked us up when we were way too young.

But instead, she shrugged, stating. "I guess we're not used to small-town folk -- you're like a different species."

She'd almost rendered him speechless, his gaze fixed upon her. "You're crazy."

"Not as crazy as Billy, though." A self-deprecating laugh slipped from her throat. She strolled around the car, returning to the passenger seat door. "I'm good crazy."

Steve shook his head, walking forward. "There's no such thing as good crazy."

"There is too." She declared, opening the door and climbing inside.

His mind felt clearer; more relaxed than usual. For some odd reason, his worries and anxieties had escaped through that scream. As he got back into his car, his prime objective became clear to him -- he needed to apologise to Nancy.

***

"Have to ask," Steve began as they drove through another neighbourhood, "why'd your folks name you Sophie and Billy?" he asked. "Aren't twins' names supposed to rhyme?" Sophie angled her head towards him. "Or, you know, start with the same first letter?"

"His full name's William," she clarified with a light giggle, "and also that's not a rule."

Steve's face went slack, his grip loosening around the steering wheel. "It is on TV."

"Sorry to disappoint you, but we don't live in TV land." She glanced down at her lap, her hardly-eaten sandwich squashed between her legs; Sophie wasn't content with finishing it quite yet. "I mean, I'd rather live in books than on screen."

His eyes narrowed, stammering. "What, you don't like TV?"

"Not what I've seen of it back home." She admitted, her arms curling around her knees. "I tend to lose myself in a good fairytale."

"So, wait, if Billy's full name is William, then why don't you call him "Will"?" he wondered.

She shrugged. "I don't know. It's just what we've always called him."

"Was he always an ass?" He didn't want to lean into the "evil twin" stereotype, but it was plain to see they were as different as day and night.

Sophie straightened up, smirking. "Well, you can't be born an ass."

He disagreed with a bitter smile. "Oh, I know plenty of assholes who are natural-born jerks."

It was hard to stay kind to others in a world like this. Humanity is afraid of things they don't understand, and they hate anyone who acts a little out of the norm. Her sigh was heavy. "I don't get what compels people to act like that." 

"Power," Steve answered, knowing all too well about the consequences that come with it. "They all want power. They're power-hungry jerks."

"Yeah, but it's lonely." She uttered. "I mean, if you hate everyone then everyone will hate you." And yet most never see the true monster behind the mask. "That's a horrible burden."

"Yeah..." Their conversation grew sour -- until he caught a view of Cherry Lane. Steve wanted to feel relieved that their journey was over, but he kinda didn't want her to leave. "This your road?"

As he was about to turn down the street, Sophie jerked forward, her eyes wide. "Oh, er -- stop here."

His forehead creased. "Why?"

"I don't want my dad to see you. I've already been in trouble this week when I came home in Tina's jumper." She told him, the car coming to a swift stop.

He raised his eyebrows. "Oh, he thought you were-"

"Well, I technically was with a guy, wasn't I?" They shared a quick smile as she unbuckled her seatbelt. "Thanks for the ride, Steve."

"No problem." He said. Sophie opened the door, slipping out with the chicken sandwich in her hand. Steve leaned towards her. "And hey, er, I know I've already said thank you already," there was a comfortable warmth in his tone, "but I really appreciate what you did for me on Halloween."

"You had a rough night." Her features softened. "It was the least I could do."

Steve glanced onto the open road, his left thumb looping around the steering wheel. He pursed his lips slightly. "So, I guess I'll see you tomorrow then?"

Her mouth opened and closed, struggling to hide her smile. "It's Saturday tomorrow."

He closed his eyes, clenching his jaw. "Right, yeah."

With a soft chortle, she shut the door, peeking through the open window. "I'll see you on Monday."

He chuckled, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Yeah, see you."

Sophie waved a little,  clutching the packaging tightly. She turned her back to him, heading down her road. Her focus switched to their driveway, which was, to her luck, completely empty. She let out a sigh, relieved she had time to prepare for any yelling sessions.

Behind her, Steve hadn't moved from his spot, watching her approach her house. His smile slowly disappeared as she reached her front door, soon wandering inside and vanishing from sight.

One constant worry remained, and it wasn't for himself -- it was for her. Though she appeared happy to return home, there was this niggling feeling in his stomach that told him it was a temporary emotion. He didn't want to pry or assume anything about her situation. But if she was in trouble, Steve Harrington wanted to help her.

But he couldn't stick around -- not with Billy on his way home too.

***

The house was quiet for a little while, practically empty for the first five minutes or so. She took the time to gather her things and head into the bathroom, preparing to dye her hair again. Outside, the familiar roar of Billy's Camaro made itself known, but Sophie made sure to lock the door in case he came in yelling for her.

But, as she predicted, he was once again striking back against their stepsister. Sophie could hear their shouts through the walls, their muffled argument destroying the calm like always. She focused on dampening her locks with blonde peroxide, hoping her brother wouldn't realise she was there.

Sophie never did anything drastic with her hair, only lightening the darker sections and her roots when they started showing. A part of her wanted to look like her mother, bringing her back through the mirror's reflection. But then she'd meet her eyes, and all she would see was her father.

She was a girl born from a victim and a monster -- who would she become?

The thought was pushed aside as she began to dry her hair with a towel, completing her hair-dye routine. She supposed that Billy and Max had returned to their respective rooms, or perhaps he'd gone on another drive. Either way, by the time she exited the bathroom, there was no one to be seen.

Neil and Susan would normally work late on these days, leaving only the three of them in one house. It was lucky that it would fall to chaos while they were gone.

And so she thought she'd be safe for the time being, hiding in her bedroom. Sophie squeezed the excess water in her hair, the towel growing damp against her palm. She sat by her vanity, peering at an empty, glass vase in the mirror's reflection. She kept telling herself to put some flowers in it, desiring to keep something alive. But with all that's gone on the past few days, she hadn't found the time.

But her thoughts were soon interrupted by the slam of a bedroom door, followed by pounding footsteps against the wooden floorboard. Sophie put the towel down as a terrible realisation came to mind -- she forgot to lock the door.

Her brother barged inside, shoving her bedroom door open instead of using the handle. She flinched on her stool, spinning around to meet his cold, furious exterior. "Where were you?"

"Jesus -- do you mind?!" she yelled.

"Answer me." He grabbed her arm, pulling her upwards. "Where were you?"

His grip tightened, crushing her frail flesh. "I ditched study hall."

Billy didn't even blink, snarling. "Why?"

"Because I wanted to." She told him. "Why do you care? It's not like you don't do it either."

"I care where my sister is," he hissed, his nostrils flaring, "and who she's with."

Sophie could feel his nails through the fabric of her blouse, digging into her skin. His eyes were flint, bulging with a gleam of rage. She gulped, looking away from him. "I wasn't with anyone."

He bared his teeth. "Don't lie to me."

She stammered as the pain worsened. "I'm not lying, Billy."

"Were you with Harrington?" Their eyes joined once more, her anxious gaze only providing the answers he sought.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

A bead of sweat thickened on her forehead, her knuckles turning white. A sting of numbness travelled through her arm. "Billy, let go."

"I saw his car on the way over here, okay? I know I didn't fucking imagine that." His cigarette breath wafted in her face.

She grew quiet, losing the feeling in her fingers. "You're cutting off my circulation-"

His body tensed, the veins under his skin becoming more prominent. "I thought I told him to stay away from you."

"Yeah, well, I'm the one who spoke to him in the first place!" she snapped at him, her voice shaky.

His lips flattened, her cry silencing him for the moment. Billy's clutch started to loosen, his fingers soon slipping off her sleeve. She stepped back, rolling her shoulder a couple of times. He drew in a slow, steady breath, raising his hands to the back of his head as he turned away from her.

Knowing her brother, he saw this as a betrayal of trust. But when he broke her promises, she found a way to forgive him. Could the same not be considered in this situation?

He stood on the right side of her cabinet where the glass vase stood. "Sophie, I've told you a million times that guys like Harrington-"

"This isn't San Diego." She argued, pulling up her sleeve. Underneath her blouse was a distinct mark, red like a burn.

Her brother was out of his natural environment, lost in a picture-perfect town where the kids had curfews and there was a limited amount of teenage girls in the area. When Billy was out of his element, it only intensified the anger he held within.

Billy twisted the upper half of his body around. "You got roofied!"

"Yeah, one time, but I'm more careful now." She insisted, crossing her arms and avoiding his gaze. "And Steve's different."

"Really?" his boots shuffled slightly, leaving footprints on the carpet. Billy squinted, his nose wrinkling. "You think -- you think he cares about you?"

She raised her shoulders, her fingers flaring through her folded arms. "Look, I've only spoken to him a couple of times. We barely know each other." 

He scoffed. "Yeah, but you seem pretty keen to get to know him."

"Maybe I am. I -- I don't know!" Sophie adopted a challenging tone, stepping closer. "I don't need you to protect me."

"I'm your brother, it's my job." He bit the inside of his cheek, the bones in his knuckles shifting as they curled into a fist.

"My god, not every guy is bad, okay?" She pulled back her damp hairline, forcing out a harsh laugh. "Why do you always see the worst in people?"

"I don't suppose you know about Harrington's reputation in Hawkins." So he was playing that card. Then again, Steve's life intrigued her and she desired to know more. "He's a player, Soph. He graffitied the movie theater last year, and called that Wheeler chick a slut."

She looked away, shaking her head. "You're such a liar."

He edged closer. "I'm just telling you to stay away from him because I don't want you getting hurt."

"Billy, I just want to make friends here. Am I allowed to do that?" she questioned. "And you know what -- you don't get to dictate who I go out with, okay?" Sophie began to raise her voice, marching towards him. "If I wanna go out with Steve Harrington, then I fucking will!"

It was a little bit of an overreaction, but it was to prove her point. Water gathered in the corner of her eyes, and she felt wet saliva on her lips. Her body trembled, realising this was the first time she'd properly yelled at her brother. It was a poor choice of words, but that wasn't the point. It felt good for a moment to stand up for herself. She naively thought for a second that her screaming ceased their argument, but his piercing glare did not help ease her worries.

Then his lips curved into a forced smirk, firm and chilling. Slowly, he slanted his form away from her as if he were about to leave.

To her shock, he grasped the vase and threw it at the wall. Sophie screamed as it smashed against the cracking paintwork, breaking into thousands of pieces. "Billy!"

"You listen to me," he grabbed her other arm, making her face him again, "if I see you go anywhere near Steve Harrington again, I'll rip that goddamn hair off his scalp."

The colour drained from her face, turning ashen as her bottom lip quivered. She stared into his ocean-blue eyes with fear, the brother she knew was unrecognisable. 

Her voice cracked, and the cruellest words slipped from her mouth. "You sound like Neil."

Something changed in his eyes, a flicker of panic that seemed to bring the real Billy Hargrove to the surface. He drew in a sharp breath, releasing her arm. For a few more seconds, he stared her down before storming out of the room.

She heard the front door slam and the sound of a car pulling away shortly followed. Her feet were rooted to the spot, standing amongst shattered glass. If her father caught this, he wouldn't hesitate to punish her for the mess.

Usually, it was Billy retreating from an argument with Max or their dad, but, this time, it was her who made him run. It left her with this strange dread in the pit of her chest -- she didn't want to lose him. 

She couldn't lose him. He was her other half, an irreplaceable piece in the puzzle. Who would she be without him in her life?

Sophie didn't even hear Max's door, only spotting the young girl in the corner of her eye as she wandered into view. "Hey, what happened?" She scanned the floor before looking back at her stepsister, acknowledging the tears streaming down her face. "You okay?"

"I don't know." She sniffed, wiping her wet cheek. "Do you mind getting a dustpan and brush?"

Max nodded. "Yeah, sure."

She strolled down the hall, heading for the kitchen. Sophie remained, eyeing the floor. There would be no debate on what flowers to put in her vase now, but that didn't make her feel better.

God, he was just getting worse. Sophie wasn't going to lose hope -- there had to be some good left in him.

***

She dreamt of her mother that night. It didn't happen often, but she liked it when it did.

There were aspects of her life that Sophie liked to romanticise, especially when it came to the days she spent with her mother. The memories she had of her were beginning to slip away, so sometimes Sophie would remember things differently -- pretend the day didn't end badly.

And yes, it's an unhealthy way of thinking, but she needed this strange happiness to feel somewhat content with her life. If it came in imaginary conversations and false events, then she'd take it.

That night, Sophie's mind clung to a golden dream of that sacred woman; Marjorie Hargrove née Sattler. She imagined that her friends would call her "Joy" because she always had a smile on her face.

Marjorie let her sit in the front seat, declaring it to be her special day. It was just them in the car, on their way to a beach she couldn't remember the name of. 

"And we're gonna get some ice cream, maybe ride on some waves..." She glanced at her daughter with an ecstatic grin. "... You'd like that, right?"

"Yeah!" The little girl exclaimed.

Her mother's laugh harmonised with the summer breeze. "That's my girl."

She kicked her small legs, admiring her pink jelly shoes. "I love you, Mommy."

"I love you too, Sophie..."

Then there was another voice, a much younger one. Sophie glanced behind her, but there was no one in the backseat. It was just them.

"Sophie?" 

It was just them.

"Sophie?" Her eyelids fluttered, feeling a soft tap on her shoulder. She awoke in the shadowed room, and it dawned on her that her mother was long gone.

But the voice was real...

She shifted in her bed, flipping over to find Max Mayfield standing over her. "Max?" Sophie squinted, turning her head towards her alarm clock. Her eyes had yet to adjust to the darkness, only seeing the outline. "What time is it, it's still dark outside?"

"It's, like, quarter past six." She answered.

The previous day came rushing back to her. The screaming, the yelling, the sound of glass shattering. The girls had cleaned up her broken glass together before Neil and Susan returned home, aiding each other to clean up their messes.

"But it's Saturday?" she responded.

"I know." Max folded her arms, bowing her head. "I'm having trouble sleeping."

Sophie sat up on her elbows. "Why are you here, though?"

"I need to talk to you about something." She told her.

With a groggy expression, she asked. "Now?"

Max swallowed. "Well, it doesn't have to be now. You clearly need sleep more than I do." She tugged on her baggy pyjama shirt. "Can you walk to the arcade with me?"

"Uh," Sophie rubbed her eye, yawning, "sure."

She inhaled, biting down on her bottom lip. "Is half eight fine?"

"Yeah, that's fine." The teenager laid back down, facing the wall. "Might wanna set my alarm, though. I'm not good at getting up on time."

"Course." Max configured the clock's controls, setting the right time for her. Luckily, it didn't take her too long. "See you in a bit."

"Yeah..." She didn't hear Max leave the room as California was already calling for her return. Her eyes closed, praying to return to that glistening moment.

But Marjorie Sattler is a footprint on the beach, and the tide's coming in.

***

I can't believe it's been a year since season four volume one came out. I was doing my first A-level the day before and now I'm finishing my first year at uni whilst trying to get my first job here. How time flies.

To be honest, this might be my weakest chapter, but I'm glad it's not short. I didn't really know what to do with this but I wanted to use Steve a bit more, especially since the next chapter is when things start to go down. He's literally pretending not to care at first, but Sophie's always catching him off-guard. I don't know why but I really like that dynamic.

And yeah, I decided to give Mrs Hargrove a name because she deserves one. I also got it from the TS song of the same name which is so sad and beautiful. Honestly, Taylor's songwriting is the chef's kiss. How did I not appreciate it more when I was younger? Then again, I grew up with girls who were more obsessed with boy bands than good female singers. I once had to pretend I liked One Direction, and I hated myself that day. No offence to 1D fans, but they were just never my cup of tea.

Also, someone pointed out on Twitter how Victoria Pedretti looks like a combination of all three members of Boygenius and I wholeheartedly agree.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. If you did, please vote and share your thoughts in the comments because it's just nice to know what you like about it. Thank you for 2K reads, it means a lot.

 - Alice.