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jo-harrington · 9 days ago

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The Gospel According to Mary Victoria (An As Above, So Below Story) - Book 2

Book 1 - Book 2 - Book 3

Word Count: 6.3k

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Fem!OC (Told in 1st Person POV)

Warnings/Themes: Van Helsing AU, Strangers to Lovers, Religious Themes, Criticism of Religion/Catholicism, Fate vs. Free Will, Smut, DIscussion of Sex, Humor, Major Character Death, Blood, Gore, Violence, Supernatural Encounters, Angst, Biblical and Other Literary/Media References

Note: Mary Victoria is the nun sidekick character from AASB that follows along on the adventure, similar to Carl the Friar from Van Helsing. Comic relief but ultimately someone who finds themselves and comes into their own during the course of the main storyline. She, much like the Knight, has an ambiguous background although it is touched on a little bit in the main story and will be elaborated more here. MV is the name she chose for herself when she became a nun, and she can truly be anyone reading. No physical descriptors will be mentioned.

This trilogy is, for all intents and purposes, her diary and more insight into her place in this universe.

This series will not be for the faint of heart, nor is it something that was written with a general audience in mind. Please check the above warnings and ask yourself if you are in the correct headspace to proceed. I am happy to answer any questions via PM or Ask.

Dedicating this installment to MY Mary Victoria, my twin, @big-ope-vibes. Happy Birthday bestie. Love you.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

“Behind every beautiful thing, there's some kind of pain.” ― Bob Dylan

If anyone ever uses the phrase "it feels like I was struck by lighting" as some kind of metaphor around me again, I think I'm entitled to either financial compensation--which I will not say no to--or a free pass to actually murder them.

Actually, I won't say no to that either, to tell you the truth.

Because nothing feels like being struck by lightning except for, obviously, being struck by lighting.

Hi fuzzy purple diary.

It's me again, your favorite, friendly neighborhood ex-novitiate. Here to say that I'm bedridden and it sucks.

Well, I'm not only bedridden; I'm injured and bedridden.

Still sucks.

Do you know what doesn't suck though? Being waited on hand and foot by, probably the most gorgeous man I've ever seen in my life.

"Uh..." Steve stopped in his tracks and looked over at me from his place at the foot of the bed adjusting the comforter by my legs. "Did you mean to say that out loud?"

Shit.

"Blame it on the catastrophic lightning strike," I tried to smile as charismatically as I could but Steve's cheeks just bloomed with a bright red blush. Cute. "Come on, don't tell me that you don't know how handsome you are."

He ducked his head bashfully.

Oh, so he was going to let a poor invalid like yours truly just fumble here because he was trying to be humble? Well two could play at that game.

"Steven, I would like to let you in on a little life lesson: there's nothing wrong with acknowledging how attractive you are. I might be an absolute mess of a human being, but I know that I could've made it in Hollywood if not for...youknowashittyexandcripplingdebt. Well, and my singing voice is a little shit; just ask Mother Superior."

"You know I would think that you got hit by lightning and it would've knocked you out," Steve observed. "Not made you talk more."

"I'm an enigma," I deadpanned and he just rolled his eyes. "Listen, if you answer one question for me, we don't ever have to bring this up again. Deal?"

He nodded hesitantly.

"How many times have you been asked out to a Sadie Hawkins dance?" I asked.

And then I immediately cackled as he practically turned purple with embarrassment.

Got him.

Anyway, hi diary. How are you? I missed you. Feels like it's been a year since I've written something in you and it's only been a day. But oh, so much has changed in just a day, hasn't it?

"You're still doing it Mare," Steve noted as he headed towards the door.

Ignore that handsome asshole--oh see? He just walked out of the room--because wow, do I have a story to tell you...

I don't remember much of what happened immediately after the lightning strike.

Well, I do, but it's just voices and images and none of it makes any sense. In some morbid hindsight, I could probably tell everyone who ever said they'd seen God after their near-death experiences that they were lying because I hadn't seen Him. Or maybe they were offered some kind of boon and what I got was a form of punishment. So there I'd be with egg on my face.

Everything came back into painful clarity when I'd woken up a few hours after the fact.

My brain was fuzzy and my mouth tasted like pennies; everything hurt but I felt some relief to find Steve, Dustin, and Claudia surrounding me and taking care of everything I needed. Water, food, bandages, pillows.

But the intensity of the pain began to subside before long.

So not a full-on smite; more like a celestial slap on the wrist.

It left a mark on me though--a scar. Despite the bandages that Claudia wrapped me in, there were no cuts, no wounds, nothing bleeding...just scars. Shaped like the lightning that cut through the sky and struck me down.

Is it vain of me to say that I cried more seeing them in the mirror when Claudia changed the dressings than I did from the pain? And how evil is it to say that those tears turned into tears of relief when I realized that I couldn't feel the heavenly powers that had been developing anymore.

My journey into becoming a Knight of the Holy Order was over.

I was free.

And I felt guilty about it because Catholic guilt overcame all adversity, it seemed.

The Knight eased those thoughts when she made her way back to the Harringtons for the day, though.

"What if the lightning wasn't a punishment," she offered. "What if it was a sign that you're making the right choice by deciding you don't want this life."

Although I was skeptical of her words at first, slowly but surely, I came around to accepting that my fate was...

What was my fate?

Not being a nun, but not being a Knight either. Not being a movie star, I could tell you that for sure.

Maybe I was a cog on a wheel in the grander scheme of life, just a tiny part of a bigger machine. Maybe I wasn't destined to be special.

The unfortunate part of growing up and living life and then failing at said life is that you realize that special is subjective.

Special to one person, maybe--as nice as that was--but not special to the masses.

It's hard when you're the apple of your mother's eye and the student in your graduating class of 100 who everyone thinks is "most likely to."

Even at the convent, we were all told how special we were. Unique in our relationships with God and His love for us. I wasn't exactly a good nun, but I never really questioned that aspect of it.

So to suddenly be given a taste of greatness, a taste of special and then become nothing...well, it was a bitter pill to swallow.

And there was no cheese or peanut butter that could hide the taste, so I simply did not take it.

I knew I had a place in this story and I would find it.

Of course, that was easier said than done.

After a few days dedicated to healing and regaining my strength, I decided it was time to return to my place as a key player on Team Save Hawkins.

"No."

But Steve had other plans.

"What do you mean 'no,' Steve?" I scoffed at him.

"I mean no, you're not coming out on a supply run with us," Steve put his hands on his hips in finality.

It was the universal symbol of "what I say goes" with Steve Harrington.

His argument was that I was too hurt to go, and in hindsight...yeah I probably was. My limbs still ached a little and there was a buzz in my veins and in my head from the lightning.

But I was nothing if not stubborn.

I didn't like it when people told me what I could and could not do, and these people that we'd been foisted upon here in Hawkins...well, they certainly liked to tell us what to do.

Us. As if the Knight were here.

No, she was off working on how to save Eddie from the Upside Down--which I was immensely happy that she finally figured it out and that he wasn't dead, let's be completely clear here--and she'd left me here once again.

Alone amongst strangers, expected to become friends.

They could at least have let me drive the damn car.

"There are plenty of ways to help that aren't venturing out into the world Mare," Dustin tried to make the situation better as he witnessed the turmoil between Steve and I, or possibly just the turmoil within me. "Maybe once you feel better, you can come out with us again?"

The kid was sweet. Not sweet enough to keep me from seething at Steve, or to change Steve's mind at all. Instead, Steve scoffed and stormed out of the house and poor, sweet Dustin shot me an apologetic smile and followed after him.

And me? I was left to putz around the house, helping Claudia knead dough for bread and stir a big crock pot of stew for dinner.

However, at lunch, she had a very special task for me.

"Would you be a dear and take this to Billy?" she asked, motioning to a tray with a triangle-cut sandwich and a glass of water.

Special as in, she didn't want to do it.

I stopped the impending eye-roll of annoyance for as long as I could, but as soon as I had the tray in hand and was out of Claudia's sight, I might as well have been one of those googly-eye dolls.

Maybe it was because I'd been hand feeding him mashed potatoes and yapping at him for two whole days when we first brought him here, or because I had the virtue of a literal saint, but I didn't see what the problem was with Billy Hargrove.

Ok, he was technically a dead guy. That had been a little unsettling to find out, but I wasn't gonna hold it against him.

But ever since his presence was made known to others, they acted as if he was like a rabid dog that was about to bite him. However, from where I was standing, it certainly looked like he had more bullshit thrust onto him than he'd been dealing onto others. No one deserved to be possessed by a monster, or killed by them, or resurrected and made to vomit up a whole graveyard's worth of dirt.

If I was going to be the only one to take pity on him, so be it.

"Hey bud," I greeted as I stepped into the garage. Billy flinched at the sound of my voice. "Long time, no see."

He stayed silent, kept his eyes downturned. The only reaction I got, other than the wincing, was a small tug of his restrained arm where it was cuffed to a pipe on the wall.

Like he was some kind of animal.

"Brought you some lunch," I tried again. "It's just a sandwich. Ham and cheese. God, Claudia not even any mustard on there? Well, there'll be stew later and I have it on good authority that it's gonna be delicious."

I tried to smile at him, gently and soothingly, but I didn't get much more in way of a response.

"Guess you're not a fan of stew," I sighed and dragged a folding chair over from the corner so I could sit with him while he ate.

Which he did. Ravenously.

I hadn't even gotten to sit down before he wolfed down the sandwich and guzzled the water with barely a breath taken between them. It was unbelievable. Had they been starving him?

I had turned on my heel, about to storm out of the garage to either yell at Claudia or demand a second sandwich so the poor guy wouldn't starve to death, when Billy finally, finally spoke.

"Aren't you gonna tell me a story?"

"What?" I was shocked. "A story? Listen...let me go and get you some more food and then we can talk about stories. Ok?"

I tried to leave again when he called my name.

"Mary...please..."

It was a desperate and hoarse plea, and when I looked at him--really looked at him--I saw the tears in his eyes. The fear of abandonment, the fear of being alone.

I'd never been someone who was alright when I was left alone; I thrived in spaces with other people. It was probably why I had been so easily coerced into going to the convent when I was at my lowest. Probably why I'd taken the Knight's invitation when she asked me to join her on this journey; although I was surrounded by my Sisters...I found myself alone once again.

Now Billy was quite literally alone. He had nothing and no one. Not even his memories or himself, if the Knight's warnings about just how empty he was could be believed.

So what could I say to someone begging me to stay?

"Alright Billy," I nodded. "I'll tell you a story."

It started with stories about California.

That was our common ground.

Well, mainly my ground because he didn't have much in that noggin of his to go off of. But sometimes he'd tell me little things about beaches and diners and California Blue and there were little hints of a love that he had to leave behind for Hawkins. And a family in Hawkins that had, for all intents and purposes, left him behind too.

However, all of these little stories that he contributed...they were the filed-down edges of something formerly sharp and defensive that he'd been left without upon his revival. He was freed of a cage, but that didn't mean the cage hadn't been home that protected him.

Of course, as much as I wanted to provide some sort of comfort and companionship to him, I also tried to use those ins to be able to get other types of information out of him; I still wanted to be useful to the others, after all.

Every time I tried to bring it up though--Eddie and the Upside Down and the mindflayer and his death--he reacted harshly. Tears and screams and a refusal to answer.

So I offered the only comfort that I knew to give: Comfort from prayer.

Yeah, yeah. I know what you're thinking.

Didn't god smite you, Mary Victoria? Didn't you leave the convent? Are you really even a nun anymore?

Old habits die hard, and can you really blame me? Especially when it was a group of nuns that saved me in my moment of need in the first place?

And I didn't really go hard with any type of preaching or attempts to convert Billy. I told him stories that gave him hope.

Wasn't that what faith was? Wasn't that what god was? Hope and forgiveness and a light in the darkness. That was more than any actual religion. Hope transcended.

Every day I left that garage feeling a little lighter, a little more fulfilled, because I was helping Billy find some kind of hope.

Of course, there was one stick in the mud who didn't see it that way.

"How's the investigative journaling going?" Steve asked one day; he'd been standing across from the door to the garage with his arms folded over his chest, waiting for me to finish Billy's dinnertime story hour.

I knew he was just trying to be protective, but it was a shock to see him there.

"What do you care?" I scoffed at him, then pushed past him to head to the kitchen. But Steve was hot on my heels. "You and the others won't let me come out on any more adventures. Gotta make my own entertainment here."

"Entertainment?" Steve laughed. "Is that what we're doing? Entertaining ourselves."

"You know what I mean," I bit back, suddenly self-conscious and defensive about my contribution. "Maybe...maybe if I talk to Billy, we can figure out another way to save Eddie and the others from the Upside Down. Make sure they aren't monsters anymore. Close the gate. Get the town back to normal."

"And your friend isn't already doing that?" He questioned. "What does she think of all this?"

The Knight would've had an opinion...if I told her that I was doing all of this in the first place.

"She thinks that it doesn't hurt to try all of our options," I lied. "There has to be a reason that Eddie brought Billy back, and not just to have a puppet to control whenever he wanted. And Billy deserves a second chance at life now that he's here. What if he just needs human interaction?

"What if he needs to see Max? He's been asking about her again."

"How many times do I need to explain that there's no way I'm letting him near her?" Steve argued.

"Guess I'll just have to try harder to convince you then," I muttered and stuck my tongue out at him.

We got to the kitchen to find that it was empty, except for Claudia and Holly at the sink doing the dishes. There were two plates of dinner at the small table; the others had probably eaten already while I was in the garage.

So this must've just been for Steve and I.

Which meant that he waited for me.

My heart skipped a beat at the realization.

Steve held out the chair for me at one of the place settings and once I was settled, he plopped into the seat across from me.

"Alright," he sighed after he took his first bite of shepherd's pie. "So what intel have you been getting from Hargrove anyway?"

I told him what I knew so far, what I'd started to piece together. And I conveyed how hard it was when he seemed to react negatively to some questions.

"Then we just resort to...stories mostly," I explained.

"Stories? What stories? Why don't we get these stories?" Steve asked.

"Because you don't need them," I replied. "Like I said, Billy needs human interaction. He needs a friend."

"And I don't?"

"Sounds like you're a little jealous Stevie," I teased him and dragged my fork across my plate for another bite.

When I looked back up at him, though, there was a definite blush blooming across his cheeks and he couldn't quite meet my eye.

"Oh my god, you really are jealous," I laughed.

"No!" he responded immediately, suspiciously, and then cleared his throat. "It's just that we don't know much about you. It would be nice to find out."

It was my turn to feel a little hot under the collar then; his eyes were locked on me, his expression fully open--curiosity and genuine interest there for the world to see--and it was a little strange to be on the receiving end of that type of attention for the first time since...well...the first time since my ex had ended things.

But where he had been a coward and a weasel--

And that is an insult to weasels, I realize!

--Steve Harrington felt like a really swell guy with his heart on his sleeve.

Forgive me father, for I have sinned.

It is your slightly confused but loyal servant, Mary Victoria.

And I might've abandoned my vows to you.

But I've met someone else...

That's how you break up with someone, right?

I wouldn't know, I've only ever been broken up with, never did the breaking.

And God could forgive me...he had to, that was kind of his thing.

What if there was a God of Forgiveness? I would sincerely consider devoting myself to some form of polytheism to get the benefits of that. Conversely, I guess there would also be a God of Punishment.

Would that just be our God and the Devil? Was the Devil a God in his own right? Or was he just a tool for the God to use?

You see, I'm rambling and overthinking about it because I don't want to actually come to terms with the fact that I [redacted redacted], currently known to many as Mary Victoria, might have feelings for Steve Harrington.

Actually, I feel a little better having admitted it now too. Damn it!

It started with that first dinner where we shared some stories with each other.

Then dinner every night after that.

Then breakfasts before he went out on supply runs and to patrol the town and I stayed home and helped Claudia with things around the house and kept Billy company. I still wasn't allowed to go out but...I guess considering that Steve and I had progressed into some kind of...ew, courtship seems like such an antiquated term but we weren't exactly dating.

Romantic relationship? Is that what you called it?

Whatever our situation was, it made sense that Steve wouldn't want me to go out and potentially get ripped apart by the rogue monsters left to roam about Hawkins.

Then there were some late nights where Steve may or may not have broken curfew to take me out to the quarry. Nothing ever happened, not then, not really. But it was there, under an open, star-filled sky with no other living soul around, that we spoke about those tender subjects that made us wince.

My relationship with my mom, and how I felt I could never go back to Nebraska.

Steve's relationship with his dad, and how he'd never get a chance to make things right since his parents were gone.

They were things that were so personal that I don't even feel right putting them down to paper. They'll live in my heart forever, for Steve. Just like I'm sure all of the secrets that I shared with him would stay in his heart forever too.

If the world ended tomorrow, we'd have each other.

And if the world didn't and we both never saw each other again, we'd have this moment.

But for now...we had each other.

We were humans with free will and no god or monster could take this away from us.

And when he finally kissed me there, at the quarry...it felt like heaven.

What didn't feel like heaven though was the backseat of his car.

I don't even feel bad about writing this down.

Do you know what dirty things nuns get up to on their own? I'm dedicating this to my former Sisters. Ladies, this is for you.

The biggest complaint I have was, of course, the setting. Cramped backseat of a car? Felt a little juvenile. I'm pretty sure that I lost my virginity to Todd Hanson in the backseat of his family's station wagon. But you know, it was the heat of the moment and beggars can't be choosers. I can't imagine that fucking back at the house would've been a better experience. I've seen Steve's room; his wallpaper would've given me a headache, even in the dark.

And trust me when I say that the water bed would've been awful.

I know from experience.

Also that bed is...was...his parents bed.

I think I just gagged at that realization.

Moving on.

Kissing. Steve Harrington is a professional kisser. Those were the softest lips I've ever felt, and I'm pretty sure that I tasted a hint of strawberry chapstick on them. It's actually nice. I didn't know that men were capable of it. My ex tasted like beer burps and unbrushed teeth sometimes, so this is a definite upgrade, not to constantly compare every guy with my ex.

Makes me feel a little jealous of the people who Steve's kissed before, though.

Doesn't matter! He's smooching on me now. Tough tits.

Now, on the subject of tits, let's talk about his tits. And mine, as a matter of fact.

Steve first.

Steve was strong! I knew this. But just...the strength of his chest. He could crush me with his tits, I would thank him. And I'd never appreciated chest hair on a guy before, probably because it always looked like an untamed jungle. But what was Steve if not a hair-guy first.

Hair guy. Hairy guy. That's funny.

The point was that his hair was very well-groomed. Very soft and even enjoyable to run my fingers through. His chest hair, that happy trail as I pulled his shirt out of his pants...his bush.

Ok I'm getting ahead of myself. The point is...well, I think I lost the point.

So onto my tits.

Steve said that he wasn't big on religion, and I wasn't one to judge about that. I hadn't ever been really until that was the only hope I had left in life. But boy, did Steve know how to worship. I'm talking kissing, sucking, kneading...I have a hickey that still hasn't gone away yet that I'm sort of hoping never does.

I think at some point he was just using my chest as a pillow while he worked on finger blasting me to an orgasm, and I swear I heard him say that if he died right there, he would be happy.

Steve Harrington is a boob man, and nothing will ever convince me otherwise.

What else?

Oh! Well! Obviously, the main attraction.

How could I forget? My thoughts started getting fuzzy at that point. Endorphins released and all that jazz.

When your body feels good, it just wants to keep feeling good, and unfortunately, coherent thought is never a good thing.

So we'll go for the highlights and assign Steve some points.

Oral: 2/10. Less of a skill issue and more of a situational issue. Backseat of a car, and Steve's a pretty tall guy. His mouth might have been wonderful but the body-origami that we needed to attempt in order to make it work left much to be desired. Both of us got a cramp. Do not recommend in the future.

Schlong: 10/10(inches). See what I did there? Come on, I had to. You know what they say about "it's not about what tools you have, it's how you use them." Well Steve certainly has the right tools. I mean...dicks aren't very pretty. Have you seen them? Veins and skin folds and scrotums and all of that. Except for this one. Steve's cock would make Michaelangelo blush is all I'm saying. It's lucky he wasn't born in the renaissance. I am still salivating.

The Sex: 6/10. God...oh boy, I probably shouldn't put His name in this. But Diary, if I'm lying, I'm dying...it was good but it wasn't great. Maybe if we weren't in the backseat of a car, it would be an 8. And this was our first time sleeping together; it was never going to be amazing. But he's such a midwestern boy. It was very vanilla. Doesn't mean it wasn't good, doesn't mean that Steve isn't an attentive lover, doesn't mean I didn't have a fantastic O. He's certainly not Todd Hanson, two-pump chump. I just wish it was a little more.

All that to say, dearest diary...we're gonna have to do that again.

A lot.

And it's a sacrifice that I'm willing to make.

DIARY: THIS IS MARY VICTORIA FROM THE FUTURE. WE HAVE OFFICIALLY FUCKED IN A BED AND WE'RE AMENDING ALL PREVIOUS SCORES.

STEVE HARRINGTON IS A 10/10 ON ALL FRONTS AND I CAN CONFIDENTLY SAY THAT I CAN NEVER SET FOOT IN A CHURCH AGAIN IN MY LIFE UNLESS I WANT TO BURN ALIVE. THE THINGS I HAVE DONE AND SAID. I AM A HARLOT. I AM A SINNER. WE ARE BOTH CORRUPTED WITH AN UNQUENCHABLE THIRST FOR LUST.

I will admit that I took charge a bit. But the boy is packing and he's a quick learner and listens when he's told what to do.

There was a moment that he was thrusting and panting and I had him begging and if I ever questioned the existence of a god...oh, I'm going to have so much fun.

Someone up above is smiling down on me today.

Maybe coming to Hawkins wasn't so bad after all.

Of course, that's when everything went to shit.

I sincerely feel really stupid, scratching my thoughts into this book while the previous entry sits right there mocking me.

How many things have gone wrong in my life before now? Every single good thing that ever happened to me. I should know better than to make statements like that.

"Maybe coming to Hawkins wasn't bad after all?" Psshhh. Mary Victoria, you naive fool.

Actually, I should've known things were going to go downhill the moment that I had that first orgasm.

Because not 48 hours after the best sex of my life, I found my friend on the brink of death on the porch of the Harrington's house.

And 48 hours after that? I was arguing with the man of my sex dreams.

My dreams. Man of my dreams. I like him for more than just sex, the sex is just the cherry on top.

See, in the days that I'd gotten to know Steve...I, admittedly, had some sort of rose-colored glasses on. Or tunnel vision. Rose-colored tunnel-vision goggles.

Whatever you wanna call them.

So I never really noticed just how bad things were getting for the Knight.

Look at what a bad historian I am; I was trying to document our time in Hawkins and, despite knowing my inability to remember things, I wasn't even paying attention.

Instead I was an idiot laughing at everything that Steve Harrington said, and tucking all of the soft little secrets that he had to share into my heart. I was in awe of how dedicated he was to protecting the town and caring for his friends. I was grateful for the way that he tried to fold me into the group of people he cared about. He was letting me into his life, into his heart.

I was such a lovesick fool, so when the time came where I had to decide my loyalties--I mean, it's sisters before misters obviously--and my ideas didn't immediately align with Steve's, I was in shock.

We were going to go to the Upside Down and save the Munsons and everything was going to be fixed.

Until we weren't.

Suddenly, I was watching him drag my injured friend across the house and toss her into the garage like a pile of trash.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" I yelled as I scrambled helplessly, as I watched the Knight flail and yelp and trip to keep up with Steve.

Once the door was closed and locked, Steve turned on me. He tried to haul me away too as I cried out in some hysteria to get to my friend, but I slapped him before he could manhandle me like he had to her.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I snarled.

"Me?" Steve's hands flew to his chest as he stared at me in shock. "What about you? You were ready to charge out of the house on a warpath!"

"To save my friend's--"

"Your friend's what?" Steve scoffed. "Her monster boyfriend? Listen, Eddie is our friend too, but going into the Upside Down to try and save him? When we know he's been the one behind all of this commotion since Vecna was defeated? Yeah, that's a death wish."

"Oh, Eddie's a monster?" I laughed. "What about you? Throwing injured people around all willy nilly. We spent two whole days trying to patch her up."

"And who do you think did that to her in the first place?" Steve asked. "If not her monster boyfriend?"

He had a point.

But that didn't mean I was just supposed to sit back and accept his bullshit. Especially when he caught me faltering and smirked that smug Steve smirk.

And in hindsight, I might have overreacted.

Heat of the moment, chips are down, he was acting like a grade-A douchebag despite his perfect dick--or maybe because of it--I just had to slap him.

So I did.

It was about as theatrical as you could imagine. Hand-flying, face-smooshing, head-turning, Dustin-and-Robin-gasping.

Steve was shocked, and honestly? So was I. But anger superseded shock.

"It doesn't matter if he hurt her," I seethed at him. "It doesn't matter if she brought hell on earth by consorting with a demon. It doesn't matter if she was the monster herself. She doesn't deserve to be tossed around, especially when she's hurt! What if that were Robin? Or Nancy?"

My body heaved with labored breath as I concluded my scolding, and to tell you the truth, I seriously expected some sort of response from him. Some kind of realization that what he did was wrong. Because Steve was a good guy and I knew--I hoped--that he would do the right thing.

Instead all I got were crickets, as his eyes darted between mine, and that stung.

So, of course I had to open my big mouth again.

"What about me Steve?" I asked. "What if that had been me making all of those mistakes? And if I had been hurt making them?"

There was a beat of silence before he responded, his eyes hard and cold.

"I'm sorry," Steve muttered. "It's my job to protect everyone in this house. In this town. It doesn't matter who I need to protect them from."

I stayed away from everyone for days after that.

This was actually the beginning of a series of self-imposed isolations that I put myself through, but I wouldn't know that until it was too late.

I didn't go down for meals, I barely even ate, and the times I did venture out of the room I'd locked myself in, I barely talked to anyone. Didn't talk to Steve, didn't see how any of my friends were.

Didn't see how she was.

I know I'd been so worried about being alone and about being left behind with no place in this story, but when it got too hard to handle, I took myself out of the story altogether.

It wasn't the first time and it wouldn't be the last either.

Steve just made me feel so worthless!

Actually, let me amend that.

I made myself feel worthless.

Sure, Steve was an asshole, but I could've been rational and had a calm conversation with him. I could've even made the attempt to talk after the fact. Instead I wallowed in a hole of self-pity that only got deeper and deeper the longer I stayed there.

However, after a few days of isolation and, let's be honest, crying, I decided that I needed to get out of my funk.

No, I still wouldn't go and talk to Steve. But misery loves company, and I knew exactly where two miserable people were in the house at that very moment.

I pulled my shoulders back, held my head up high, and walked right down to the garage.

Only to find the door open and the garage empty.

"Wh--" I looked around for Billy and the Knight stupidly, as though they were hiding behind the lawn mower or under the pile of lawn chairs leaning against one wall. I even called their names, somehow expecting an answer, but the only response I got was Nancy and Dustin running out to the garage to see what the commotion was.

It became a barrage of questions and useless answers.

"What happened?"

"I don't know."

"Where are they? Where'd they go?"

"I don't know, I don't know!"

"Did you help them escape?!" Nancy grabbed me by my shoulders and shook me, demanding an answer. "Did you?"

"Of course she didn't Nancy," Steve's answer came, unexpectedly, from the door to the garage. "Leave Mare alone."

"Well if she didn't, then how did they get out?"

"The garage isn't exactly some foolproof prison," Dustin snarked at her. "They couldn't have been gone for long, I'm sure we could find them."

"They must be going to the gate," I announced and looked to Steve for the first time in days, a mixture of a plea and an accusation in my scathing glare. "They're going to save Wayne and Eddie."

Then off we went.

And I could wax poetic about fighting with Nancy and Steve, because those things did happen. I could tell you how Dustin held my hand in the backseat of the car and told me that we'd get the Knight back and that everything would be ok.

In some way, I guess I'm telling you about that now.

But that's where my memory starts to fade again, beyond the recollection needed to simply write this all down for historical or personal record.

Trauma changes your brain. Literally. Changes the structure and how synapses fire and all that jazz. I think Carl Sagan said that once, or some other stuffy television scientist whose name I also can't remember.

Trauma makes memory fickle, but it all happened so fast, anyone would have struggled with it.

The rain on my skin had been cool and sharp where the air in Steve's car had been stuffy from the heaters he had on full blast.

I hugged the Knight when we found her, relief coursed through me. I was gentle with her broken body, just like she'd been gentle with mine. Even if I didn't have any power coursing through me anymore, I could still try and heal her through love, if not through some celestial magic.

The only thing I remember with utter certainty...was the screaming.

So much screaming.

Billy screamed and yelled incoherently, a wild look in his eyes as he swiped and batted at all of us like a wild animal. Actually, I distinctly remember thinking that that was not the Billy who I'd been telling bible stories to in the garage and sharing meals with for the past few weeks; somehow that boy was gone and in his place there was a beast.

The beast that everyone expected him to be.

Then there was Steve's shouting. Steve, who I also remember thinking was kind of hot as he navigated this event, as much of an asshole as he was. Hands on his hips, baseball bat, manhandling people again, telling us what to do like he was our boss. Maybe he was our boss.

And then there were my own screams.

I remember how they ripped through my throat.

The vibration.

The pain.

The push of my breath from deep within my lungs and out into the world as my voice erupted shrilly with fear and pain.

There's not a lot in the world that results in an actual scream like that. Helpless and horrific.

But there were claws and teeth and tears and blood, there was choking and snapping, and I remember that none of us moved as we watched Billy...no, not Billy...Eddie...take out some kind of punishment on Steve.

And a girl can't help but scream when her boyfriend's--

Actually, is Steve my boyfriend? Can I call him that? Or is it too late? Can I mourn? I'm too young to be a widow.

--head is ripped off by a monster.

Especially not when that head lands in her fucking lap.

“My insides still turn over when he looks at me that certain way.” ― Judy Blume

#aasb #as above so below #steve harrington x OC #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x mary victoria #original female character

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