#i love this feral bloody nancy so damn much

[smileweakandwrong]

Chapter Two- Origins

“You know, you’re getting pretty damn good at saving my life. Careful, Wheeler, I might start thinking that I’m your favourite person.” Robin rocked her shoulder against Nancy’s.

You are. The thought was there in Nancy’s head without hesitation and she swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat and offered a small smile.

or

Nancy has a conversation with her mother and learns that her new abilities might not be so new after all, and with the help of a vision, faces off against Hawkin's newest monster. All while dealing with a growing amount of gay panic, of course.

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Ronancetober Day 5: Blood

Artwork by the incredible @sweepy-stringbean!

[stanbillyhargrove]

Demons - The Rewrite

Chapter 18: Tell Me Why The Fuck I Feel So Empty

TW: suicide attempt

“Stevie. I need you, I know you’re mad at me and I don't deserve your help but please. Please, Stevie.”

Except Steve didn’t answer his phone, hadn’t been home or just ignored it so I left a sobbing message instead. I’d been alone for weeks after Billy punched Steve’s face in. Weeks since I had thrown myself over Steve to protect him from Billy’s wrath and taken a punch to the back. The deep purple bruise had barely started fading, the sharp pain every time I moved a stark reminder of what had happened.

"Please pick up."

~

After Billy had left I couldn’t stop sobbing, my chest heaving as I curled around Steve’s shoulders. Steve’s lean arms wrapped around me with a groan and held me until I calmed down a bit. Then I’d helped him off the floor, biting my lip to stop the cry of pain from moving and led him to the bathroom to carefully wash the blood off his face. He sat on the edge of the tub, hissing and wincing while I tried to clean him up but saying nothing.

~

"I'm so sorry...I just need you to know that."

~

When I cleaned all the blood off him that I could I turned to the sink to wash out the cloth, eyeing Steve in the mirror.

“I think you should go,” he’d finally ground out.

“Steve, you might need a hospital. Your nose..you could have a concussion..”

He didn’t look up from the floor, just clenched his fists against his legs, “just. Go home, Cat. Please.”

He didn’t moved while I packed up my stuff, grabbed Rocky and left. He just sat silently in the bathroom. I’d been by myself after that, Billy and Steve both avoiding me, unwilling to talk about what happened.

~

"Love you, Stevie."

I just wanted to feel something, anything, or maybe it was that I wanted it to stop.

The all consuming emptiness.

That’s how I ended up laying on my bathroom floor, blood pooling across the floor from my arms. I’m so cold, I can’t stop shivering even with a belly full of burning alcohol. It burned like fire in my gut but my body is so fucking cold.

I can hear the phone ringing next to me, but it seemed like a dream.

Far away, unattainable.

I heard Steve calling me, his panicked voice muffled.

Buried under all the other voices screeching at me.

Things came into focus when he burst into the bathroom, “oh fuck! Cat! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He panicked, stumbling across the floor to grab at my bleeding arms.

His hands flew to my face, shakily smearing blood across my cheek.

It's so warm.

“Look at me, can you hear me? I got you, it’s okay.”

Steve grabbed my shoulders, pulled me up to lean against the side of the tub and grabbed towels from the cupboard to wrap around my arms. I couldn’t look at anything but the growing red spots on Steve’s knees.

“Oh god, come on, Cat. Look at me, please. You’re okay, I got you, I’m here.”

I tried to look at him but it was hard to see past the tears in my eyes.

“Stevie,” I cried, words slurring, “I’m sorry. I...I’m sorry.”

“Don’t. Don’t be sorry,” he grit his teeth, his jaw clenching as he looked at me. “I’m sorry, I was so fucking mad and hurt and…I shouldn’t…” hot tears poured down his cheeks, “you probably need stitches," he murmured, trying to stand up.

“No, Stevie, please,” I pleaded, gripping him tight, "please. You can't."

Don't leave me.

Not yet.

Steve stared at me for a moment, sighed and turned to grab the first aid kit from under the sink, clenching his jaw tight. With shaking fingers, he placed a bunch of my thick white bandages over my arms and wrapped them tightly, cursing under his breath the whole time. After finishing the bandages, Steve turned and grabbed a cloth to wipe the blood off of us while I sat still, quiet tears rolling down my cheeks.

“Jesus, you’re so damn cold,” he hissed, hand on my clammy skin.

His fingers were so warm on my face. Left scorching trails behind when he took them away.

Steve scooped me up effortlessly and walked to my room, setting me on my bed before rummaging through my clothes to find a hoodie and sweatpants. Gingerly, he helped me pull off my bloody clothes and took the opportunity to look at the bruise on my back, gritting his teeth as he ran his thumb over the purple spreading across my ribs.

“That fucker..”

“Steve,” I whispered, “it was an accident.”

The bruise. My phone call.

Everything.

He pressed lightly around the edges of the bruise, making me hiss and flinch away from his touch, “is anything broken?”

I shook my head, “don’t know.”

He huffed and helped dress me in the clothes he’d grabbed and put me in bed, covering me with the thick comforter.

“I’ll be right back, don't move."

I could hear him go to the bathroom, could hear him choking on tears while cleaning up the blood. Heard towels and clothes being thrown into the washing machine, the lid slamming shut. Heard muffled crying as Steve walked around the house before returning in his boxers with a glass of juice, helping me to sit against my headboard before handing it to me.

“Here. The sugar will help. You’re probably going to feel like shit for a couple days though.”

His glassy, bruised eyes burned into me as he watched me sip. The dark purple splotches that spread from his nose around his eyes that Billy had put there accentuated how tired he looked, like he hadn’t slept in days.

“You’ve lost control,” he sat next to me on the bed, deflating.

“Stevie-”

“No. Cat, I can’t, I can’t fucking do this anymore. What will I do if you kill yourself? I don’t want to go to my best friend’s fucking funeral."

My chest felt empty, raw like my heart had been ripped out, I’d felt that way for days. Like I was just an empty shell walking around. But I could feel the guilt stab through me like a hot knife, my chin wavering as a new wave of tears streamed down my face.

Steve's POV

“No. Cat, I can’t, I can’t fucking do this anymore. What will I do if you kill yourself? I don’t want to go to my best friend’s fucking funeral."

She was quiet, her chin wobbling a little when I glanced over.

I can't.

Can't go to her fucking funeral.

Can't see her lying still in a pine box, makeup caked thick to hide the discoloration of her skin. Painted to look asleep. Flowers everywhere to hide the smell of being sucked dry and pumped full of chemicals.

A room full of tear streaked faces and broken hearts.

I can't.

"Can you fucking say something?!" I snapped.

"What do you want me to say?"

That you'll get better. That we'll be happy.

That you love me.

"That you'll try."

She sniffed and shrugged, "I can't."

I scoffed and stood up off the bed, "you can't even give me that? Do you realize how much this hurts me? To see you trying to kill yourself? How can you keep doing that to me and not care?"

Cat's eyes snapped to meet mine, embers burning when she spat acid, "oh I'm sorry, I didn't realize how much my issues affected you."

"Really? You're getting mad at me right now? Do you not realize how this feels for me?"

"God!" She screamed, "I don't care! Not everything is about you, Steve!"

"No! Everything is about you! My whole fucking life revolves around you now! Keeping you alive! That's on me! That's on my fucking shoulders, Cat!"

"I didn't ask you to! If it's so bad, just let me die!" She stood and tried to push me backwards out of her room, eyes feral as she raged, "I don't need you, I don't want you here! Nobody wants you! Just get out!"

I stumbled out of her doorframe, words dying on the tip of my tongue.

Nobody wants you.

The words that echoed when things got too quiet.

The words I tried so hard to bury.

A harsh truth. My parents don't want me, Nancy doesn't want me, others only want my title.

Nobody wants me.

"I'm done. Don't fucking call me again," I growled as I turned to leave.

I left her there, alone, even though everything in me was screaming not to go.

 I'd spent more nights wrapped around her then I spent by myself. It was strange to sleep alone again. My sleep was restless and filled with nightmares.

Nightmares where I was running through a sea of people, struggling to break free of them. Where I knew Cat was in danger but I could never find her until it started raining. Cold water poured from the sky, dissolving the people I'd been pushing through until I was face to face with Cat.

"Why didn't you save me?" She'd cry.

The rain turned to acidic blood, burning me and staining her skin as I watched her shrinking before my eyes. Skin stretched tight over jutting bones until it burst, leaving jagged rips in her skin.

"Why didn't you save me?" She'd cry again.

"I'm trying!" I'd scream.

But she always dissolved into ash, floating away into nothing.

Other nightmares where I was walking on a beach, surrounded by eery silence even though waves crashed angrily next to me. The moonlight cast a silver shine off the top of the water but there still wasn't enough light for me to see further than what was right in front of me. And then a flash of lightning and suddenly, I could hear everything. The roar of the water, the sand sliding under my feet, a mournful siren wailing in the distance, it was too much, too loud to think. I was running, feet sinking deep into the sand, running as fast as I could but going nowhere. Then another flash of lightning and everything settled. Crashing waves stilled, frozen in the air. The wailing didn't stop though, just became quieter and more haunting. My feet were stuck in the sand when I saw her, washed up on the beach. Cat's pale skin had started to turn blue. I struggled, trying to get to her, but the more I fought, the deeper I sunk in the sand. I tried to claw my way out, desperate to save her, but my arms were swallowed up. The sand consumed me until my head was barely above it and I couldn't move anymore. Another flash of lightning and the waves came down on her, sweeping her away. In an instant, she was gone, carried off into the dark. My screaming only stopped when sand filled my mouth.

I started sleeping on the couch, with the TV playing. It was squishy and uncomfortable but the noise helped to keep the nightmares at bay a little bit. It also helped distract me when I jolted awake, made me feel less alone.

Billy’s POV

I had found Cat at Steve Harrington’s house and couldn’t stop myself from putting my fist through his face and, accidentally into her. I’d felt like absolute garbage after I heard her scream, felt her small bones give under my knuckles. I’d driven myself out to our spot in the forest and smoked and sobbed and shouted myself hoarse, trying to drown out the echo of her scream.

It hadn't worked.

When I returned home, Max had come and sat beside me in my room and waited for me to start talking.

“I found her,” I muttered, voice hoarse and scratchy.

“I thought you’d be happier about that.”

I huffed, “she was at Harrington’s, Max. Tommy called last night cause she needed a ride home and I couldn’t, couldn’t fucking go get her and she went home with fucking Harrington!”

Max winced when my voice raised, “but it's okay, right? You guys love each other.”

“Not anymore,” I grumbled, “there’s no coming back from what I did.”

Max looked at me and followed my eyes to my bruised knuckles, “Billy…what did you do?”

@charmed-asylum