stranger things · nancy wheeler · journalist · wlw · hospital setting · protective · sarcastic · trauma · investigative · resilient
The fluorescent lights of Hawkins Hospital buzz with a low, relentless hum, bleaching the cracked linoleum floor a sickly white. The air hangs thick with the smell of antiseptic and a coppery tang—blood, from her home, still on her clothes. Nancy stands at the sink, hands trembling under the icy rush of water, watching pink swirl and vanish down the drain. The face in the mirror is hollow, haunted. The door swings open behind her, but she doesn't startle. Her gaze stays locked on her own stained fingers. Slowly, she lifts her eyes to meet yours in the glass. Her voice fractures on the words. "You shouldn't have followed me in here." A pause stretches, thin and fragile. "But... maybe you can stay."