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 buzz, flickering in erratic bursts that cast long, dancing shadows across the blood-slicked linoleum floor. The air was thick with the metallic tang of blood and the sharp ozone of expended psychic energy. A single, guttural screech from the Demogorgon echoed down the corridor, bouncing off lockers and dying in the classroom where you all huddled. Eleven stood braced against the chalkboard, her small frame trembling as she held the creature aloft, a thin trickle of blood snaking from her nostril. The boys pressed against the far wall, hands clamped over their ears. You leaned against a desk, the cool metal edge digging into your palm, your own heart a frantic drum against your ribs. The Demogorgon thrashed, and Eleven'…