ཐི༏ཋྀ󠀮

⠀ genre.⠀a good girl's guide to murder fic, f2l⠀⠀⠀ wc.⠀1 . 8k ⠀ cw.⠀strong language. no use of yn. ⠀ taglist.⠀

You knew by heart that path. Every possible shortcut, inconvenience and street that led to that house, which you passed by each day even if your destination was at the other side of town.

Anyone could think the house was haunted given the way kids dared one another to run up and touch the front gate, the way people's footsteps quickened as they walked by and the way dark spray-paint adorned its walls.

It was obvious that the rest of the town also knew about the house; yet no one did as well as you did. Few people had dared to go beyond the front gate after five painful years. Few, if any — none other than the tree innocent inhabitants who couldn't escape those four walls. And you, of course.

Many people might wonder why they hadn't moved out yet given the hatred they received — even you had thought about it sometimes, although it wasn't something you wished for. The truth was that, from an objective point of view, they had the same right to live in Little Kilton as anyone there. In fact, you were sure the town hid worst people, yet those were late-night thoughts.

You walked with a confident stride, without being able to look away from the house that rose at your right. You thought about stopping by as you had done many other times before, but you weren't sure if he was there, and you could hear hurried footsteps approaching from behind you.

You sped up until you were at the back of the house, sheltered beneath its own shadow and the one from the trees around you. You saw how a girl—one or two years younger than you—stopped next to the front gate, standing there still as if she needed to gather up the courage before making an important decision.

The girl—with brown hair and big, sharp eyes—didn't look at the house as if it were a thread, but she looked rather determined to sort out whatever had taken her there. She looked quite familiar to you, maybe you had seen her around in town, but you didn't take it as a habit to analyze the people you lived with, not when your own house was that great nightmare youhad to face every day.

You had learned the bad way that it was best if you minded your own business. Not that your parents had given you any other choice, though.

The girl finally decided to walk along the entry way under your attentive gaze, making you frown, confused. In the five years that had passed since the tragedy, no one had ever dared to that much, not even the annoying journalists.

The silence of the sunny morning was broken by the sound of the girl's knuckles tapping against the door. Knock, knock, knock, three times. You felt a single drop of sweat sliding down your back as you held your breath. You wondered if the girl was as nervous as you were in that moment.

After seconds that seemed to last an eternity, you hardly heard the clatter of a falling chain and a double-locked click. Inmediately, the door opened a crack.

From your position, you were only able to see the door frame, and the girl's expression, who was fighting not to keep on staring at Ravi as she had seen a ghost.

"Hello?"

You certainly heard that. The voice at the other side of the door. His voice.

It had been so long since you'd heard it that your heart skipped a beat.

Ravi Singh.

You quickly stopped the wave of emotions that threatened to cloud your mind and focused on the present. There was no use in living in the past, you knew better than anyone.

"Hello?" he said again when the girl didn't reply.

"Um..." she looked as she was lost in her own mind. "Um, sorry, hi," she finally said, doing an awkward gesture with her hand, something similar to a wave.

You quietly made yourself as comfortable as you could against the wall, trying to get a better angle, but failing to do so; all you could see was the girl.

"Hi?" Ravi repeated. You could hear confussion in his tone.

"Hi, Ravi," the girl said. "I... you don't know me... I'm Pippa Fitz-Amobi, " the girl finally had a name. "I was a couple of years below you at school before you left."

Now that you thought about it, you did remember a younger version of Pippa walking around the hallways at high school, always with another brown-haired and cheerful girl by her side.

"OK..." was all that Ravi replied.

Pippa then started to utter a string of meaningless words about time and jiffies, which you were able to resume as a request to speak to Ravi for a moment.

There was no doubt that Pippa was nervous.

Her pale cheeks turned red as soon as she closed her mouth, probably after realising what she had just said. You suppressed a smile.

"What?" Ravi asked, still not knowing what she wanted.

Unfortunately, there was no way that you could see both of them without completely exposing yourself, so you would have to stay in the shadows and try to guess the expressions of the boy who had once been your best friend. It certainly sounded easier than it actually was, given your crouched position against the wall and the fact that your heart was beating so loudly you were sure the Singhs on the other side of the wall could hear it, not to mention the effort it took to regulate your own breathing so as not to be discovered in such a tense situation.

Easy peasy.

"Sorry, never mind," Pip answered. "So I'm doing my EPQ at school and—"

"What's EPQ?" interrupted Ravi's voice.

"Extended Project Qualification. It's a project you work on independently, alongside A levels. You can pick any topic you want."

You remembered having completely ignored it. You weren't exactly very motivated back then. Nor were you now, to be honest.

"Oh, I never got that far in school," he said. Hence your lack of motivation. "Left as soon as I could."

And with it everything else, you thought.

"Er, well, I was wondering if you'd be willing to be interviewed for my project."

You frowned even more if it was possible. You were beginning to have a slight idea of the topic Pippa had chosen for her project.

"What's it about?" Ravi asked, probably thinking the same as you.

"Um... it's about what happened five years ago."

Yup, exactly what you were thinking about.

"Why?" Ravi's voice was heard again.

You considered the idea of that whole thing being a joke, one more mockery the Singhs would have to ignore just so they could move on, but Pippa was completely serious when she spoke next.

"Because I don't think your brother did it — and I'm going to try to prove it."

A shiver ran down your spine despite the heat typical of late July. The words echoed in your head like an empty promise, words you yourself had said five years ago.

However, the determination in Pippa's voice sparked a glimmer of hope in you, making you realise that there was still a mystery to be solved. A mystery that had remained unsolved for far too many years, and that you desperately needed to finally unravel.

A few minutes passed between you hearing the door closing and Pippa's footsteps walking through the entry way to the front gate, followed by a heavy sigh.

With a new idea in mind, you came out of your improvised hiding spot.

"Hi."

Pippa almost let out a scream of surpirse, as she definitely hadn't expected you to approach her from behind.

Placing her hand on her chest, Pippa looked at you in alarm before continuing on her way back home, hoping you would follow her.

"I hope you have a very good reason for the fright you've just given me."

You smirked as you walked alongside her. That girl was making you feel excited about something for the first time in years.

"I truly do," you stated. "I've got relevant information for your investigation," you added.

Pippa opened wide her eyes, as if she wasn't expecting an unknown person to actually know about a conversation she supposed private. You thought it was a fair reaction, specially since you hadn't even talked once before.

"How...?"

"Oh, I was listening," you confessed, shrugging your shoulders.

Pippa narrowed her eyes, analysing you quietly. After a few seconds, she suddenly stopped—causing you to do the same—and pointed at you.

"I already know who you are!" she exclaimed. "Your parents own almost every single place in town."

You looked down.

"Yup. Though I'd prefer not to be related to that, if you don't mind," she said, wrinkling her nose.

Pippa nodded as if everything made sense now. You could feel how she was connecting every bit of information she had inside her brain.

"You are Ravi's best friend," it wasn't a question, yet it wasn't entirely true either.

"Was," you corrected sharply, making it clear you didn't nor wanted to speak about it. "So, the investigation...?"

"Oh, yes!"

Pippa got back on track, venturing into the forest you supposed led back to her home.

"So you do have irrelevant information?" Pippa asked, glacing sideways at you.

"Yup. Let's just say I also tried to investigate back in the day," you admitted, letting out a brief sigh.

Pippa seemed interested.

"And what made you stop?"

"A bunch of things." You might say. That was a can of worms you didn't want to open either.

You were now more deep into the forest, and you genuinely hoped Pippa knew what she was doing, since it looked like it never ended around them.

"Would you consider sharing that information?" Pippa asked, ignoring the previous awkwardness. "With me," she clarified.

"Why do you think I 'gave you a fright' before?" you smiled. " I told you I had a very good reason. And I believe you'll find it interesting. But there's a condition."

"What?" Pippa turned to you, intrigued.

"Let's be a team. I know it's your EPQ, but it also is the mystery I've always wanted to solve. Let's do it together."

Pippa stopped in the thick of the forest and looked up at you, holding her hand out in front of her.

"Deal."

You smiled satisfied, shaking her hand.

"Deal, Pippa Fitz-Amobi."

⠀ genre.⠀stranger things fic, strangers/f2l⠀⠀⠀ wc.⠀750 ⠀ cw.⠀mention of flashbacks, strong language. no use of yn. ⠀ taglist.⠀@just-a-blue-nerd 　 @duckyyyx 　 @slut4rafee 　 @tuigkgyik 　 @flyfanloll59 　 @ahead-fullofdreams 　 @moonbird1507 　 @autumn-phantomn 　 @bugnicole 　 @pinkglitterpuss69 　 @annabrtkw 　 @krw-celine 　 @itmekelpy 　 @emiliagracex 　 @pinkandgirlyblog

"Honey, you've got your hands covered in ink again."

Your mother's tone wasn't reproachful at all, but full of pride. She took your hands between hers as if they were a treasure, carefully holding them and caressing them tenderly. She looked at you, waiting for an answer she already knew, longing to hear your words, eager to know about anything you had to tell her.

"I've been writing before we came here," you answered, your gaze still lost in the horizon, in the waves of the sea that mingled in a never-ending movement that had you completely hypnotised.

You silently watched her brother in the distance, who surfed the waves with impressive control, oblivious to everything around him except his surfboard, the balance he managed to maintain on it, and the small waves that engulfed him, which he rode with incredible precision.

"Another poem of yours?" your mother asked, pulling you back to the conversation, her hands still holding yours as the California sun beat down on your face. Like she had always done, she was showing again her role of a mother concerned for her children and interested on their favourite activities — as it was writing for you and surf for Billy.

"Yes," you nodded with a smile that only appeared whenever you thought of something you truly enjoyed doing. "This one was about the sea."

Your mother smiled back, pride lighting up her face as she rested your hands on your lap, laying back on the towel. You knew she desperately wanted to ask you about your poem, to request you to recite it for her, to analyse it with that mind of hers that knew how to appreciate every detail of your writing. However, time had taught her to respect silences, to unmask what words couldn't or didn't said, and to act so that you wouldn't feel uncomfortable.

As a way of gratitude, you rested your head on her lap, closing your eyes as you thought about your poem, the on that wasn't about the sea, but about how you felt your mother drifting further and further away. You were aware of the fact that she thought you didn't notice—and perhaps Billy didn't, since he didn't repair on those kind of details—but you were observant, you had perceived the looks of pity she gave you when she thought you weren't watching, the strength that now surrounded her in every new fight, the way her clothes were starting to disappear slowly, leaving a trail of abandonment in its wake.

After a few quiet minutes, you noticed a shadow over you that was blocking the sun, so you opened her eyes. Billy was towering over you, his hair dripping with water and his surfboard clutched in one hand. His chest was rising and falling rapidly from the physical effort he had been making for so long, but his face was lit up with a satisfied smile.

He splashed you with the water dripping from his body, letting out a little chuckle at your frown. When he was done teasing you, he lay down next to you—being careful not to get your mother wet—and turned toward you.

He opened his mouth to speak. However, the voice that came out wasn't his, but someone else's.

"Girls! Get the fuck up!"

You opened your eyes, surrounded by the dim light of the room, the half-closed curtains letting in the rays of sunlight that managed to filter through. You heard a door slam from the bathroom and hurried—and, of course, angry—footsteps heading toward your room.

"What the hell are you two still doing in bed?" said—this time, for sure—Billy Hargrove.

"What the hell are you doing stepping into our room?" Maxine snapped from across the room, wrapped in her sheets.

Even half-asleep, she's still mean, you thought. You didn't blame her, though; it was understandable.

"Come on, or we're going to be late on our first day of class," you tried to smooth things over, getting out of bed as you watched Billy leave the room, heading who knew where.

"What a shame that would be," Max replied, as sharp and sarcastic as ever.

Rolling your eyes, you left the room and went into the bathroom before she could get in there. With a slight smirk of satisfaction, you congratulated yourself on having been able to completely ignore your father and yoursiblings' unbearable behavior.

It looked like Hawkins was going to be one hell of a fresh start.