Chapter One: The Day Before It Began

(The Vanishing of Will Byers)

***

Ring! Ring! Ring!

The obnoxious blaring of the alarm clock was abruptly silenced when a hand shot out and, in fumbling for the button to shut it off, a spark of white-blue snapped forward and into the machine and shorting it out, quieting it but alarming the teenager, her fingers still gripping it.

"Shit," she muttered. She hadn't meant to do that—that was the exact opposite of how she wanted to shut the damn thing up.

But now it was eerily quiet and slightly smoking from her frying it. She winced; that didn't look good.

Her aunt was gonna kill her.

Speaking of which...

"ROWAN!" came the familiar voice of her aunt, echoing down the corridor from the front of the mobile home. "You better haul your ass out of bed and into this chair before I drag you out! And don't think of pretending to be asleep and not hearing me; I heard your alarm go off! Now get up!"

The teenage girl, Rowan, groaned and reluctantly crawled out of her warm, comfy bed. Giving the fried clock another cursory glance, Rowan shambled out of her room like a caffeine-addicted zombie who was on her third day of withdrawal and into the main area where the living space and her aunt's work area was, the two spaces separated by a thick burgundy curtain. The smell of bacon and frying eggs was in the air, making Rowan's stomach growl hungrily. The croon of Elvis Presley drifted from the record player perched precariously on the rickety chest of drawers next to the small stove as Rowan's aunt, Aconite Graveswood, or Aco as she preferred to be called, hummed along as she tended to breakfast. At the scratched fold-out table was her little brother Alistair, his curly hair mussed from sleep and still in his pyjamas as he inhaled his Fruit Loops cereal and reading something that Rowan assumed was his and his friends' latest Dungeons and Dragons campaign for today and his character's reference sheet as preparation for it. When he noticed her presence, he looked up and grinned, but despite his sunny smile, Rowan could see the dark circles under her brother's eyes, circles she assumed were under her own eyes.

"Morning, Ro!" Alistair greeted.

"Morning," Rowan returned, sliding into her seat. She eyed the papers and asked, "Is this for the campaign this weekend?"

Alistair, whose eyes had wandered back to the papers, snapped his attention back to her and nodded. "Yep! Mike has planned a really good campaign; I wanna make sure I'm prepared! You can never tell what he's gonna do when he's the Dungeon Master..."

"Yeah, yeah. I'm sure you'll be ready," Rowan said. She then smirked and ruffled her brother's messy curls. "Just don't forget to shower; last time, Aunt Aco had to fumigate the trailer because you stank so bad."

Alistair swatted her hand away, scowling and accused, "Well, at least I don't stink up the place with smoke!"

Rowan spluttered and yelled, "I literally only smoked twice in here!"

"Twice was enough!"

"Kids, stop fighting," Aco interjected, brandishing her spatula at them, grease shining on the black plastic. "If you can't and it gets physical, take it outside. I don't want to clean up blood, or be a witness to a death."

At that, Rowan and Alistair reluctantly stopped fighting. Aco, satisfied her niece and nephew weren't going to kill each other, focused back on breakfast. There was a Pop! as the toaster went off, and then a plate was in front of Rowan—two rashers of bacon that were a bit too crispy, a fried egg with the yolk leaking, and a piece of toast burnt at the edges. Just how her aunt cooked it.

It was perfect.

Rowan hungrily dug into her breakfast, slathering her toast in thick slabs of butter and devouring her bacon and egg and toast like she hadn't eaten for months. Her aunt chuckled fondly at her niece's ravenous appetite while her nephew calmly ate his cereal, careful to not let any of the milk get on the precious papers, as she got her own breakfast ready and turned the stove off and replaced Elvis with The Beatles with a record from one of the many stacks around them, before joining Rowan and Alistair.

The family ate in comfortable silence, broken by John Lennon's voice as he sang how all you needed was love and the noise of the trailer park around them. Though Rowan and Alistair were still in their pyjamas, their aunt was ready for work. She wore a black dress with long, lacy sleeves, and wearing dark makeup that made her look sultry and mysterious, making her look like the psychic she claimed she was.

"Did you guys sleep well?" Aco asked, giving Rowan and Alistair the Look.

The siblings looked at each other. 

"I... I slept some," Rowan vaguely answered. She didn't mention how she only went to sleep at three in the morning, after being awake for hours from one of her nightmares.

Alistair swirled his cereal with his spoon before he said, "I had a nightmare. I... I couldn't sleep after that."

Rowan and Aco didn't say anything; they knew exactly what Alistair meant by nightmare, and why he couldn't sleep after it.

Aco cleared her throat and asked pointedly, "So. How are you going at school and have you done your homework?"

Latching onto the safe subject, Alistair rambled about the stuff he was learning in class and how his science teacher, Mr. Clark, had promised that a radio with a strong signal would be coming soon and that the Hawkins Middle AV club would be the first to use it and how that radio could potentially reach contact outside of America and into places like Australia, while Rowan gave a more subdued, and succinct, answer. Both ignored the homework question and assured they had done it, though Rowan had a feeling that Aco suspected they were lying.

But she didn't comment, and the conversation soon shifted into plans for Thanksgiving and then Christmas, of music (Rowan), of D&D (Alistair) and money and get-rich-quick schemes (Aco). All three pointedly ignored the topic of family, of the near-invisible weight that hung over the three.

After a thrilling discussion about how much Aco could make off of fake money before she was caught and if it would make more money than her psychic scam to a disinterested Rowan and an enthusiastic Alistair, did their aunt realise the time. The older woman sat up abruptly, and swore the minute she spotted where the hands of the clock that hung on the wall next to the posters of Elvis, The Beatles, Fleetwood Mac and Elton John were.

"Okay, kids, discussion over. Teeth brushed, clothes changed, hair brushed, smell nice, books in bags," Aco ordered. When neither Rowan or Alistair moved, Aco clapped her hands together and yelled, "What are you waiting for? An invitation? Move! Go, go, go!"

At that, Rowan and Alistair moved, hurrying to their respective rooms to get organised. Rowan rifled through her closet and drawers before she finally pulled out the clothes she most liked: A Hellfire Club shirt that Eddie had given her despite her not actually being a member, her favourite pair of jeans that she and the girl she had somehow befriended during History class last year, Robin, had made rips along the knees this past summer, her Docs, and her denim jacket that was a birthday gift from Chrissy. Hastily brushing the tangles of her hair and her teeth before applying deodorant, Rowan shoved her books into her worn bag before slinging it over her shoulder. Done, she rushed out into the living space, almost bumping into her brother.

"Sorry!" she automatically apologised, but her brother just shrugged and darted into the living space, where Aco waited, tapping her foot nervously.

"You two ready?" she asked, and the siblings nodded. "Good. Get in the car, and depending on how lax the police are today, I think we can get away with breaking a few road laws."

Rowan and Alistair rolled their eyes at their aunt's casual talk of law-breaking, but followed her out of their home to the car; like the trailer, it was  similarly  cluttered with stuff, ranging from years-old receipts to cassette tapes that either couldn't fit in the trailer or Aco wanted on hand to put in whenever she was in the mood for a particular album or singer, to loose papers and plastic bags, to even a couple cans of Coke or root beer. The air smelled of strong incense and pinewood from the tacky cartoon pine tree dangling from the mirror alongside an UFO charm, but none of the Graveswoods cared as they clambered inside, Rowan getting in shotgun while Alistair crawled into the back, her little brother shooting her murderous looks that she ignored. Once Aco was in the driver's seat, she turned the engine on and turned on the radio; she only did that when she was in a hurry, or there was an emergency.

Today counted as both.

"Are you kids buckled up?" she asked.

Rowan and Alistair nodded.

"Are there any cops around?"

The siblings looked out the windows, and shook their heads at seeing the coast was clear.

"Good. Hang on tight," Aco warned as she put the car into "Drive" and drove out of the trailer park and onto the road.

Once the wheels met asphalt, Aco pressed on the accelerator and floored it.

The car shot off like a rocket, zooming down the strip of road like the Millennium Falcon once it entered hyperspace. The familiar woods that surrounded Hawkins like a forcefield blurred past, and Rowan felt like she was pressed to her seat, gripping her seatbelt. Her aunt's knuckles were white on the steering wheel, and when the bend came that would lead into downtown Hawkins, the wheel flew under her hands as she made a wide turn, wheels screeching as she did so. Aco had pressed on the brake when she was making the turn, but after she finished it, she once again slammed on the accelerator and the car jerked forward again, rushing down the road.

Though Aco was driving fast and recklessly, breaking multiple speeding limits and and road laws, Rowan and Alistair felt safe and knew their aunt, while not the safest driver, would never put theirs or others' lives in danger; she slowed down if they were going too fast, even for her, and was a lot slower on a crowded road in downtown Hawkins than on the open road.

"I may go faster than what the cops would like," Aunt Aco would always say, "but I don't go too fast that it puts peoples' lives in danger."

Still, even with Aco slowing down in Hawkins proper, she was still driving at a more-than-legal speed and they arrived at Hawkins High and the adjoining middle school in twenty minutes when usually, it took them around an hour to get to the school when Aco decided to obey the laws of the road on very, very rare days.

"Okay, kids, here we are!" Aco said cheerily as she put the car in "Park" and Rowan and Alistair got their bags. "Don't pay too much attention to the brainwashing they call 'school lessons', do well but don't be upset if you fail since failure's always a lesson in adapting and thinking smarter, and get into trouble, but not too much trouble that you get caught."

"Yes, Aunt Aco," Rowan and Alistair chorused as they prepared to leave.

"Oh, and Rowan, can you help me at work today? I would ask your brother, but he's busy with that campaign," Aco asked.

Rowan stared at Alistair, who shrugged, and the older girl said, "Sure, Aunt Aco."

Her aunt beamed, but it turned graver as she said in a low voice, "And kids, remember. Keep your abilities hidden. Don't let them slip out, no matter what. Understood?"

Rowan and Alistair nodded, expressions just as grave. They understood very well what their aunt meant.

Their aunt smiled, giving them each a quick kiss and slipping them twenty bucks each. "Lunch money. I would have given you some actual lunch, but this morning was a hurry and I lost track of the time. Promise I will make it up for whatever glorified slop they call food they give ya with dinner."

"Okay. Thanks, Aunt Aco," Alistair replied, smiling as he pocketed the money and got out of the car, ready to go make the walk to Hawkins Middle and meet his squad of friends.

As Rowan made to get out of the car, Aco grabbed her arm. The teenager turned to see her aunt's dark eyes bore into her, and she asked, "Are you okay? I know you don't talk about your nightmares, and I understand that it's because you think Alistair's deserve more attention, and I get it. But you can talk to me about them; don't shove them away."

Rowan hesitated, then she smiled. "I'm fine, Aunt Aco. Promise."

It was a lie. Even now, she thinks she can still see an image of the girl with the shaved head and numbered wrist screaming for "PAPA!" as she was carried away, before slamming a man into a wall with enough force to break it, then snap another man's neck with the jerk of her head, blood streaming from her nose, whenever she blinked, forever imprinted on her eyelids.

But she didn't say anything. She knew that her aunt was already worried enough as it is, that, as much as she talked lightly of money-making schemes, she wasn't making enough money with her fake psychic act and was terrified of being unable to get a job legally and support the three of them, was worried enough about Alistair's nightmares of the shrieking ghouls and spectres and that as much as he had close friends in Will, Mike, Lucas and Dustin, that as much as he buried his power and refused to look at invisible phantoms or go past the cemetery or even past the hospital, he still played with the spirits of dead animals, saying they were better than the ghosts of humans. She already had too much to worry about; burdening her with her nightmares was something Rowan refused to do.

Aco didn't seem convinced, but she didn't argue, though the look in her eyes told Rowan the conversation wasn't over. Instead, she let go, allowing Rowan to climb out of the car and close the door, and said in a chirpy voice, "Have a good day, you two!"

"We will!" Rowan and Alistair called back in unison.

At that, their aunt put the car back into drive and pulled out, the siblings watching as the car sped off into the distance and then disappeared.

Looking back at her little brother, Rowan asked, "So, squirt. You want me to walk you to Hawkins Middle, or do you think you can handle it yourself?"

Alistair gave a scandalised look.

Rowan shrugged. "Guess that's a no."

"You think?" Alistair snarked.

"Hey, I was just asking. What, you embarrassed about your friends seeing me walk you to school?"

Her brother looked away, cheeks burning.

Rowan pressed a hand to her chest in mock offence. "Al! How can you think that? I like to think I am the cool sister."

"You are!" Alistair exclaimed, then realised what he said and hastily added, "Well, cooler than Nancy, at least."

"I love ya too, you menace," Rowan said, ruffling her brother's hair as he swatted at her and yelled, "You're the menace!"

"Okay, okay. I'll save my menacing for after school," Rowan said as she lifted her hands in a placating gesture, wearing her cocky grin as Alistair scowled, before he stormed away.

"Bye, Al! See ya after school!" Rowan called, and Alistair flipped her the middle finger.

Rowan responded by flipping off her own middle finger, still smiling, which only widened when her brother's friends greeted him at the bike rack, the five chattering about science or the campaign for today or Star Wars or comic books or whatever nerdy things nerds talked about as they walked to Hawkins Middle.

Rowan took that as her cue to head into her own school, and do what her brother did, what they have done for eight years:

Pretend to be normal kids.

***

Hawkins High was an ugly, flat building. It was dull and plain, no matter how much the student council tried to spruce it up and make it livelier, and the air inside was similarly stale and musty. Students hovered in their cliques and friend groups, and Rowan was certain the gossip mill was running strong alongside menial talks of the latest music, movies, which actors were hotter, and complaints of homework.

Rowan ignored them all, instead choosing to let the soothing rasp of Joan Jett's voice block it out as the guitar screamed in her ears along with the lyrics of Bad Reputation, seeking out one of the only three people she could stand in this place.

It wasn't hard to find.

There, by the band room, stood a girl with blonde, short hair and dressed in a green and white marching band uniform, chatting with a fellow band member. Rowan's mouth moved from a neutral scowl to a smile.

"Robin!" she shouted, and the girl's head snapped to hers, and she grinned when she recognised the other girl.

"Ro!" Robin called back. She hastily finished her prior conversation and jogged up to Rowan as the dark-haired girl lowered her headphones and took her cassette out. Rowan smiled and fist-bumped the blonde.

"How's band going?" Rowan asked.

Robin groaned. "Slow, especially since homecoming season finished and there won't be another pep rally until spring. How are you going? How's your aunt and Alistair?"

"Good. Everything's good," Rowan replied, the lie mixing well with the truth. "They're both good."

Robin looked around, then leaned in and whispered, "Is your aunt still scamming people and your brother still annoying?"

"Oh, my aunt is always scamming. And whatever gave you the idea that my brother was annoying? He's an angel," Rowan replied with a smirk, and Robin laughed at her friend's snarky comment about her brother. Rowan smiled; her friend's laugh was nice to hear.

But before they could continue the conversation, the discordant ring of the bell cut through the crowded high school hallway, and reminding teenagers that there was still class to go.

Robin scowled at the conversation cut short, and Rowan felt a mutual agreement, but she smiled and said, "I'll see you in third period, and pass you notes."

"Please do so; you're the only reason why I stay awake or keep myself from sticking pencils into my eyes from sheer boredom."

"Trust me, the feeling's mutual," Rowan replied, as the two girls walked together before splitting up to go to their first classes—English for Robin, chemistry for Rowan—before a shrill laugh cut through the air as decisively as the high school bell.

Rowan was already groaning and rolling her eyes before she saw them, and she felt Robin's dislike as if it was tangible as they came into view.

The popular crowd.

There were the cheerleaders and the jocks from the basketball team, most paired up together like they were expected to and was almost painful to look at, along with those who had partners from outside those two groups; Rowan could see her friend from her middle school days and her first true friend alongside her trailer park neighbour and friend, Eddie Munson,  Chrissy Cunningham, standing next to her boyfriend Jason and smiling as she twirled her ponytail. The blonde's eyes met Rowan's and she gave a small smile to the dark-haired teen, which Rowan reciprocated. Robin, seeing this, rolled her eyes, but it was more fond than exasperated; Robin knew that, outside of these walls, Chrissy was a lot nicer and more genuine than those like Carol and Tommy H, the assholes of Hawkins High.

And there was no bigger asshole than the one who was smirking at something Tommy H had said, dressed in an insufferable polo shirt and his even more insufferable hair looking extremely, insufferably floppy.

The self-proclaimed King of Hawkins High himself, Steve "The Hair" Harrington.

"God, I want to punch him. In the face. Right in his teeth," Rowan muttered as she glared a hole into the other teen's face.

"Doesn't every outcast and loser want to?" Robin muttered.

"How much trouble would I get in if I set fire to his hair?"

"A lot. You'd probably be suspended or expelled, or maybe even sent to juvie if you're caught," Robin pointed out.

"Damn."

"You aunt would probably be proud, though," Robin mused.

"She would be, especially if it's a large enough fire."

Robin gave Steve's hair a cursory glance and asked, "Is there enough for there to even be a large fire?"

"With all the hairspray and products he uses, I'm sure we can get a big enough fireball happening. Maybe enough for a Molotov cocktail."

Robin snorted and Rowan grinned; nothing felt better than musing over setting Steve Harrington's hair on fire, and how much flames they could get.

However, their plotting had to end with them inevitably splitting up for first period, waving goodbye as they walked to the classrooms where their respective classes were held.

And where Rowan could fantasise about punching Steve Harrington or setting his precious hair on fire with a well-placed spark from her fingers or actually electrocute him or even jump to the highest place in Hawkins High and drop him before catching him alongside wondering what her aunt wanted her to do in helping with the scam or if she could somehow hang out with all three of her friends on the weekend while taking down the notes and listening to the teacher.

And all while ignoring her nightmare, and the feeling of dread it brought.

Like something bad was going to happen.

***

It was in third period that Rowan felt it.

A tingly, swooping feeling in her stomach, like she was on a rollercoaster and she had just gone down the drop, then a crackling in her veins that surged inside her, pressing against the confines of her body, demanding release. Above, the lights flickered.

Dropping her pen, Rowan thrust her hand into the hair and asked hurriedly, "Can I use the bathroom?!"

The teacher, while looking slightly perplexed, nodded. 

Rowan pushed her seat back, the chair legs scraping against the floor and she rushed out of the classroom, making a beeline to the nearest girls' bathroom, her boots stomping hollowly on the linoleum as she pushed back against the crackling surge inside, but it only increased, a pressure that threatened to explode, that she needed to keep back until she reached the bathroom, to privacy, to safety, she just had to get inside—

Rowan almost moaned when she saw the door labelled "Girls' Bathroom" and slammed it open. Inside, there were two girls obviously playing hooky to gossip. At seeing her panting, rigid body and the downright murderous look on her face, they sprinted out of the bathroom, giving her a wide berth. Rowan didn't care. She was just glad they were gone.

She checked to see that the stalls were empty, and when she was certain they were, she got in one, locking the door.

Inside the cubicle, Rowan pressed her hands against the door, panting and grunting as she felt the pressure build and build, the crackling reaching a fever pitch. She felt her veins burning, and she could see blue, spidery lines light up underneath her skin, and by the burning in her eyes, they were glowing as well. The pressure expanded, stretching in her body and Rowan bit down a scream as her eyes welled up in pain, before the crackling flared and she heard a sound between a sting and a crackle and her vision flared blue-white—

Something like a miniature storm—or explosion—imploded in her hearing, and above, the lights flickered, then shorted out, sparks cascading down.

Panting, Rowan made herself look at herself, at her veins still glowing blue, at the destruction she had wrought as her power made the lights reluctantly turn back on.

The walls were blackened, and the wall behind her had a spiderweb of cracks running through it. The air smelled of ozone and citrus, and something warm trickled down from her nose and into her mouth, hot and coppery.

Opening the door, Rowan shuffled to the line of sinks and gripped the nearest one, her eyes locked on it. Bile scorched her throat and she pushed it back; she wouldn't be sick.

She forced herself to look up, to meet her reflection.

Her dark hair was messy, strands sticking up like a black crown. Her skin looked pale and sickly, and the dark circles under her eyes looked more prominent. There was blood streaming down from her left nostril, into her slightly open mouth.

And her eyes, which were always an intense blue, were glowing, a neon shade of her usual eye colour. And in them, she could see sparks still crackling, a shadow of the untamed lightning inside her bones.

Rowan heaved a breath that felt more like a sob as she broke eye contact, watching her hands as the blue slowly faded, as whatever lingering sparks dissipated, as her hair went back down when the electricity was gone.

The electricity she had just unleashed.

Her power.

The power she could never bring to the surface, that she tried to suppress, yet taunted her when it arose in these uncontrollable surges, the power that crackled in her veins as much as her cells whirred and sped with the urge to move from place to place, jump through time and space and travel instantly like distance meant nothing, as much as the want to have the remote fly to her hand with a thought or push Harrington to the floor with a glare did. The power that, alongside with her brother's ability to see the dead, meant that she was never normal, that they were never normal.

The power that meant they couldn't talk to their wider family, who all had a power or powers. The power that had brought The Man's attention when her power had unlocked and she accidentally caused a blackout in her kindergarten class.

The power that had resulted in her parents sacrificing themselves to keep her and Alistair safe.

Rowan felt a burning in her eyes again, this time one that felt like salt instead of prickling lightning. She didn't care as the tears fell, didn't bother to wipe them away.

God, she didn't want this; didn't want to constantly duck into a bathroom or a clearing in the woods to let these surges off. Didn't want to wake up screaming from nightmares of murdered and tortured children, didn't want her brother to wake up screaming from nightmares of ghosts and live in fear of the dead. Didn't want either them to look over their shoulders and feel paranoia and fear over the day The Man would find them and take them and experience unspeakable horrors.

She just wanted to be a normal teen, with a normal life and normal secrets and a normal family.

But her powers, her past, her very family, dictated otherwise. All she could do was just... keep pretending. Pretend to be normal, even at home, around her aunt and brother, and keep her powers tightly locked away despite the surges.

Because she, Alistair and Aco knew that they couldn't know if The Man had placed something in Aco's trailer that could not be detected, was just waiting for her or Alistair to slip up and then swoop in.

And Rowan refused to let that happen, refuse to let that happen to her brother, no matter that the surges kept getting more and more bigger and uncontrollable, more painful every time her body was forced to expel the electricity.

She rubbed the tears away, rubbed the blood away, smoothed her hair and splashed water on her face, wincing as it stung her skin, like it always did after a surge. She checked for any sparks or any glowing veins or if her eyes still held a glow, checking that she was once more looking like the part of a teenage girl who dressed and acted outside of the norm, before she walked out of the bathroom.

She would keep pretending, keep suppressing her powers, keep putting on the mask of regular teenager Rowan who refused to conform, who listened to rock and alternate music and the occasional heavy metal cassette Eddie gave her to borrow, who had a brother obsessed with comics and science and D&D (and who she had a feeling was crushing on one of his friends even if he didn't say anything) and an aunt who regularly scammed people by pretending to know their futures. She could keep playing that part.

No matter what.

Little knowing that in three days, it would all change forever.

***

And here is the first chapter! Just a normal chapter before all the craziness starts and a little bit of a dive into our central character(s)!

I hope you liked Rowan! I love writing her character—same with Alistair's. She's very snarky and sarcastic and takes no shit, but she's very scared of letting control slip and have the Man find her and take both her and her brother away, and she's VERY protective of her little brother and friends, and honestly one of my fave characters to come up with and write, and I hope you will also like the direction her character arc will take!

If I'm being honest, I'm channeling Eda and Stan Pines for Aco's character; I love morally grey/criminal parental figures who love their kids so much and would do anything to protect them, and Aco's definitely like them.

Also, Rowan and Robin!! I love their friendship, and I truly hope that I got her character right!

And a wild Steve Harrington has appeared! And yeah, Rowan fantasises setting Steve's hair on fire a LOT, but that's only due to their enemies stage. Don't worry, she only fantasies about it SOMETIMES later on.

Next chapter is where things truly kick into gear with Will going missing and all the Upside Down craziness starting...

Please read, comment and vote!

GhostWriterGirl out!