SOMEONE WHO LOVES YOU
WOULDN'T DO THIS.

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MAGNETS (book one).
°• CHAPTER FOUR •°

" I FELL DOWN THE STAIRS. "

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trigger warning from your local boring author: this is just a reminder that neil hargrove should be a warning himself, but because he's not, i'm here to remind you guys again that this story will contain child abuse scenes. this chapter does contain one towards the end so please skip it if it's triggering to you. <3

DYLAN HARGROVE WAS A MORNING PERSON. She couldn't help it. Her body had become so used to the schedule of waking up hours before school, just when the sun starts to glow over the sky, that moving from California to Indiana didn't change anything. The second her body could simply feel the sun's rays beaming through the curtains of hers and Max's room, her green eyes popped open, and Dylan was awake. She was as quiet as possible as she carefully hopped around the room to ensure she wouldn't wake Max. The girl was dead asleep, letting out soft snores against the pillow she buried her freckled face in, the flames of her red hair splayed around her. Dylan gathered a bundle of clean clothes and sent her younger sister a fond smile even if she couldn't see it. She supposed that Max may not ever know how much Dylan cared about her, how seeing her face was like looking at the California sun again, but it's fine. She can care from afar.

Dylan prepared the bathroom for when she would return. Her movements are swift and careful as she moved around, setting a bundle of folded, clean clothes and a towel upon the sink before grabbing a hair tie and yanking her hair into a tight ponytail. She already changed out of her pajamas into something a little tighter, but easy to move in. Dylan took a deep breath and tried to make herself seem as small as possible as she left the bathroom and carefully crept across her father and stepmother's door and then her brother's. She didn't care if she woke Billy up, he could deal with it. But she didn't want to picture what would happen if she woke up Neil.

But Dylan's been doing this for years. She's become great at it. Moving around the house without creaking a single floorboard or door quickly became a skill. She maneuvered around the kitchen to find the few things she needed. Dylan balanced a peeled banana between her teeth as she filled a bottle of water and ended up chewing it thoughtfully as she made her way outside, tossing the peel in the trash on her way out.

Dylan's neatly tied sneakers paused their movements as she stood on the porch steps. She quickly did a stretch, a slight groan leaving her lips as her back popped once her spine straightened. Once Dylan felt ready, she tugged the headphones she plugged into the walkman clipped to her hip over her ears. A tape she made herself and chose for that day was securely inside. Dylan took a deep breath and pressed play.

Carry on my wayward son, there'll be peace when you are done ... Lay your weary head to rest, don't you cry no more ...

Dylan shot off from the porch steps. She kept her pace slow and steady at first. The beat of the music's tune is what sent her legs pumping harder. All of Hawkins soon becomes a blur in the corner of her eyes. The trees made of autumn leaves with bright colors of orange, green, yellow, and red, are left behind as she sped past them, soles smacking against the concrete. Dylan cherished this moment of peace. She felt a grin spread as she picked up the pace as the cool breeze made way under her shirt.

The run was exactly what Dylan needed. She had been walking on eggshells around her father since they moved. Neil was on the edge, ready to blow at any second, and the truth was, it scared her. Trying to find her place in Hawkins didn't help. Dylan needed a night out like the one she had last night. She also needed an outlet before the explosion. She had been long wrecked with a terribly anxious feeling.

It almost made Dylan sad when she had to circle around and take the path home. Running in the early morning helped her clear her head, it's why she chose to do so. But she knew she wanted to be inside before Neil woke up. She savored the last bit of time she had on her way back. The thought of what could happen in the not-so-peaceful scenario of Neil Hargrove being there, on his couch, waiting for her had brought Dylan to speed up again until the familiar house on Cherry Lane came into her view again.

Dylan came to a pit stop at the front door. She took a few, long deep breaths as the fresh air she caught filled her lungs again. The sweat beading across her skin kept her cool, but now only made her feel sticky and gross. She already couldn't wait to hop in the shower. Dylan slipped the headphones to hang on her neck before opening the door. She didn't notice someone was there with their eyes on her as she was toeing off her shoes until it was too late.

Billy's voice flooded the living room. "Where have you been?"

It sounds as if someone filled his throat with gravel. Billy definitely had a cigarette or two the second he opened his tired eyes. Dylan's head snapped up at the sound and every last bit of peace she had left her soul. She could feel the moment her blood ran cold. Her brother was sitting upon a moving box wearing plaid pajama pants and a wife beater already seeping with sweat. A bowl of cereal was balanced on his lap. Dylan didn't answer at first. She only tried to pass him. She even considered pulling her headphones over her ears again to blast anything Billy had to say out of her mind, but it was no use.

"You're rank," Billy scoffed when Dylan moved by him.

"I just got back from a run. What's your excuse?" She snapped back.

Dylan had every intention of just hopping in the shower but Billy's cold and nonchalant words followed her as she stalked through the living room. "Try to make sure you still fit in your jeans, Buttmunch," he called.

It's not the name that crawled its way under Dylan's skin to make a home. It's the comment. It makes her sick. She's heard it before. I don't see any cows. Clearly you haven't met the high school girls. Dylan sped by him and pretended that she didn't hear a word. It was better to act as if the insult slid off of her when she couldn't get comments as such out of her head. They'd repeat every time Dylan looked in the mirror. She didn't see the beautiful, California girl that everyone insisted was there. Sometimes she couldn't bear to see the body looking back at her and wished she had the courage to draw out in sharpie where she'd take the scissors.

However, the mirror covered with steam is still there when Dylan left the shower with a towel tucked under her armpits. She wiped the palm of her hand across it to see the glass underneath. She tried to think of what Jonathan said when he apologized for taking that picture. He thought the real Dylan was pretty. The girl there with green eyes, ears that stuck out a tad too much when her damp and knotted hair was slicked behind them, who wasn't sucking in her stomach, and healed marks scattered across skin clear of any make-up was pretty.

Dylan's been told so her entire life. She used her looks to her advantage when it was needed as if she believed them. But she struggled to do so. It was nice for a moment to blush again at the thought of Jonathan's compliment when she hasn't done so in years when someone reassured her how lovely her appearance was. Dylan could hang onto it for a single moment before reality would come to slap her in the face.

School was one of Dylan's many realities. She already knew she had to place the fake mask of confidence on her face as soon as she entered the building even when Billy's unnecessary comment that morning still rattled in her skull. Dylan had indeed double-checked that her favorite pair of jeans would still fit over her waist when she tugged them on. She may have lost her mind if the button didn't close. Clara was right anyway, she shouldn't be wearing shorts in this weather so she left them behind.

Speak of the devil, Dylan thought when she saw the back of Clara's head at her locker. She clutched the jacket she was holding a little tighter. There was a sudden bounce in her step as she walked through the hall to greet her before the first bell could ring. It shouldn't hurt anything.

"Hey, Clare," Dylan announced her presence. She frowned when Clara jumped out of her skin as she approached. She instinctively took a step back. The reaction struck something inside of her. "I... I had a lot of fun the other night. I remembered to bring you back your jacket." Dylan held it out towards her. "Don't worry, my stepmother washed it."

Clara doesn't offer much other than a simple, "Oh," before she took the jacket. And then, "Thanks."

It wasn't said with any ill intention. Dylan knows when someone was giving her the cold shoulder. It was something else. Something was on Clara's mind and bothering her. Dylan didn't ask, not at first, worried that doing so would mean stepping over a boundary. She already feared crossing them at the Halloween Bash when she mentioned Clara's subtle interest in girls. This was the first friend she made. Dylan didn't want to ruin it.

"Are you busy after school?" Dylan asked. "I thought maybe we could do something. Homework, shopping, maybe dinner?"

"I'm..." Clara paused. Dylan watched as she pursed her lips and tried to think of the best lie possible. She easily guessed then and there that Clara Rhee was tough and had thick skin, but she wasn't a great liar. "I am busy," she finally settled. "Yeah, lots of... Lots of homework."

The clear lie made Dylan frown. She watched as Clara returned to shuffling her locker for books with heavy shoulders. Dylan wasn't there in Hawkins to make friends, she once thought, but she did. And she wasn't going to take anyone's shit for caring.

Dylan pressed her shoulder against the locker's neighbor. Her voice dropped to a dangerously angry level. She couldn't help but consider the first assumption that crossed her mind. "Don't lie to me. Tell me the truth." Dylan's face twisted into a nasty scowl. "If you were bothered by my bruises yesterday - "

Suddenly, Clara shot up with wide eyes. "Oh my God, no. It's not that," she insisted quickly. She took a deep breath as Dylan watched wordlessly. She was studying her every move and knew immediately her earlier considerations were right. Something was weighing heavily on Clara's shoulders but she wouldn't choke it out. Instead, she said, "I really do have plans. It's just with Nancy and... And maybe Jonathan. It's..." Her pale cheeks flushed. "It's personal. Believe me, you don't want to be involved."

There is a quiet feeling underlying Clara's words. Dylan attempted to piece it apart as her features relaxed. She shouldn't feel excluded, she barely knew the three of them. But she couldn't help it. Clara befriended her in the first place when Dylan tried to make it clear she didn't want to make friends in Hawkins. She didn't like being left in the dark. What was the big secret they were keeping from her?

"Whatever. Okay. Maybe another time then," Dylan finally said flatly. She flicked a curl out of her face with hidden anxiety when she noticed that Clara looked relieved when she gave up on prodding.

They're interrupted when another teen bumped into Dylan's side. "Dylan!" An excited and pitched voice greeted her. Dylan winced at the volume but smiled at Tina anyway. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. I wanted to let you know you forgot your bike at my place at the Bash. Maybe you got busy," she said suggestively. They miss the way Clara rolled her eyes. "Anyway, I thought you would need it back so I brought it for you. Hope that's okay."

Dylan sighed in relief. Her bike had completely slipped her mind. She was too concerned about bringing Billy home in his stupid Camaro before he could start a fight that his drunken self couldn't win that she forgot all about her bike. It was her only means of transportation when she was feuding with her brother. "Thank you," Dylan said gratefully.

"If you have a sec, we could lock it up for you before first period," Tina offered. A hopeful glint appeared in her eyes. "Maybe you could put in a good word to your brother for me."

If only she knew what Billy said about the high school girls. Dylan tightly smiled as the cruel comment came across her again. It would only make Tina feel bad if she repeated it. "Maybe so," she instead said tightly before bidding Clara goodbye and following Tina to the school's parking lot again.

The rest of the school day passed slowly. Dylan can't help but allow her curious mind to wander. She wanted to know what was so personal between Clara and her friends that she couldn't tell her at the very least what it was. How personal was it? Was it something they thought she'd be grossed out by? Did they have something... Together? Dylan wouldn't judge them if so. She's just confused. She assumed that Clara had been only into women. She certainly seemed very into Nancy.

Maybe it had something to do with that. Dylan is struggling to focus in her Chemistry class and instead of taking notes, she's tapping her pencil on the corner of her desk as she thought of any and all possibilities. Was Jonathan part of a cover for how Clara could feel about Nancy? Or did Dylan have this all wrong? She hated there was only one way to know and nobody would tell her.

A sudden idea hit her. Dylan hadn't tuned in to the teacher's lesson for a second. Most of the notes she was writing on the chalkboard were formulas and facts she had already learned back home so she didn't feel the need. Instead of studying the board, her gaze set focus on a student's head. Dylan smiled in her thoughts.

If anyone knew anything, maybe Xavier Rhee would.

Dylan didn't risk scribbling a note in her book to pass to him for fear that the teacher would notice. She could sweet talk her way out of anything if she gets caught anyhow. Instead, Dylan carefully leaned over in her chair at the perfect moment, when their instructor was distracted. "Hey. Psst," she whispered with a soft jab to Xavier's shoulder.

Xavier jumped in shock. Dylan quickly drew her hand back as he whipped his head towards her. It's the first time she's got a good look at his face. He's handsome in a very cute way with warm brown eyes, feathered hair, and features resembling Clara's. Dylan softened at the sight and gave him an equally courteous smile. "Sorry," she apologized, keeping her voice low so only he could hear. "I'm Dylan Hargrove. Clara's friend. She seemed off this morning and I've been worried. Is she okay? She wasn't at lunch."

"Oh." Xavier shifted uncomfortably at his desk. "She's okay. Just... A lot on her mind," he said quietly. Dylan couldn't tell if he genuinely didn't know a thing or didn't want to tell her either. She parted her lips to speak again, but he averted his attention back to the lesson. She frowned and settled in her seat once more.

So much for that, Dylan bitterly thought. She sighed and pretended to take notes again with the questions no one seemed to want to answer still floating mindlessly.

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To put it lightly, Dylan had been seething since she walked out of school after the last bell. She was two minutes late after it rang. Two minutes. And Billy's Camaro was nowhere to be seen. She had angrily fisted her hands at her sides before snatching the bike Tina brought for her. Usually blasting through the wind whether she was running or biking calmed Dylan's racing thoughts and short temper. This time it didn't. She's still fuming over her insecurities being dangled over her head that morning, Clara's "secrets" even though she tried to be compassionate about it, being ignored, and now Billy deserting her.

Dylan practically tossed her bike to the side before crossing the lawn. Every step she took across the soil carried the willpower of calming her ill temper before it could turn into wrath the moment she walked through that door to unleash it on Billy. She already spotted Neil's car in the driveway.

They knew better than to fight in front of him.

Dinner was already being cooked when Dylan walked through the door and past the living room. Susan was humming to herself as she pulled a pan of cooked meat out of the oven while her daughter circled the table to set up utensils and plates in the kitchen. Billy was already sitting silently and to his left, Neil Hargrove cocked an eyebrow in his daughter's direction. Dylan swallowed the lump that started to form in her throat.

"You're late," he remarked flatly.

If there was any anger simmering left, it was smothered completely with another feeling. Fear. Dylan attempted to smile at him as she shrugged off her backpack before pulling out the chair across from him. The wood dragging against the floor with a creak was the loudest noise amongst all the tension. "I was talking to a friend after school and time got away from me," Dylan lied easily as she sank into the seat.

Her brother's eyes flickered in her direction with surprise. Dylan could've easily told Neil that Billy left her behind and he would have paid quite the price for it. It wouldn't be the first time.

But he's still her brother.

"Your brother should have waited for you. You could've missed dinner. You're his responsibility, after all," Neil reminded them. His voice slowly dropped colder after every word.

Dylan didn't know if her heart was sinking because of Neil's tone or what he was implying. She could feel her warped DNA that made her Hargrove - a twisted, violent, angry person. She didn't want to be Billy's responsibility. She wasn't. If she was, it meant that one day, telling the difference between Dylan and Billy would be impossible.

"Isn't that right, Billy?" Neil asked with oblivion to Dylan's sudden silence.

"Yes, sir," Billy agreed robotically just as Susan appeared with their meal and set the platter in the middle.

The appearance of his wife and stepdaughter taking their seats flipped Neil's mood almost immediately. Dylan could have cried out in relief. Maybe he would let go of his angry thoughts. Maybe this dinner wouldn't be so bad.

Dylan learned a long time ago how quickly her hope could be crushed.

Neil waited until everyone had been served and started eating. He took a long drink of his beer before asking, "So who was this friend?" The question brought Dylan's eyes to lift with a forkful of steaming vegetables on it halfway to her mouth. "The one you mentioned," Neil explained at her questioning glance.

"Oh... Um." Dylan lowered her fork and took a deep breath. Neil didn't like stuttering. He also didn't like certain types of people. "Her name's Clara Rhee. She gave me her jacket the first day when I spilled water on myself. She's really nice."

The use of Clara's surname was a mistake, but if Dylan hadn't outright said it in the first place, Neil would have investigated until he got the answer he wanted. It was better she got it out now even when he frowned deeply as he heard it.

"Oh?" Neil echoed. He grabbed a napkin and dragged it across the mustache over his upper lip. "How nice of... Those people."

A chill was sent down Dylan's spine. She bit the inside of her cheek before the demand, "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!" Could spew. She would quite literally choke to death on the words afterward when Neil would shove them back down her throat. Dylan couldn't believe a man with such prejudiced views was raising her. But then she saw Billy, and it would suddenly make sense.

It made Dylan miss her mother more. Chloe Tolbert cradled her daughter's face in her hands as she would remind her, "It's our responsibility to understand the history we caused and be loving to all." She was so different compared to Neil. Dylan's heart ached for her and the lessons of love she would bring.

"I suppose there are no problems between my children either," Neil then stated warningly. He was practically daring Billy or Dylan to make a move. The tension between all of the Hargroves could have been cut with a knife. Even Max looked unsettled while Susan silently picked at her plate.

"No, sir," Dylan denied softly. She shared a look with Billy who didn't make a move to defend her or himself. "We're fine."

It was possibly the biggest load of bullshit Neil had ever heard. Dylan knew she was a fantastic liar and great at getting out of things - except when it came to Neil. The presence of her father brought an intense fear that could make Dylan's stable knees wobble. She crossed her legs under the table before he could notice as she finished her dinner silently while Neil interrogated everyone else.

The second everyone's plate had been cleaned, all Dylan wanted to do was hide in her bedroom. She would never use Max as a shield, never, but her presence slowed Neil down. At least a little. She has yet to witness anything worse than a raised voice or a smack. Dylan thought that maybe being in her shared room would keep Neil from snapping.

The last bit of hope Dylan had crumbled into dust when Neil instructed her to stay behind and clean the table.

She does so with trembling hands. It's only Neil and Dylan in the kitchen now. He's watching without a word as she collected the dirtied plates, utensils, and cups to gather in her arms. Her shaking hands cause the ceramic material to clank against each other. Dylan is petrified of what would happen if she dropped one and she's just as scared of whatever cruel game Neil was playing.

"You were late because you were talking to a friend," Neil broke the silence with a spat. The "good father" he was playing at the dinner table for the sake of Susan and Max was gone and in his place stood the monster Dylan had known since she was thirteen and her mother died. She refused to look him in the eyes out of fear. "And you're feuding with your own brother. We moved here for a fresh start, Dylan, what will people think if you ruin that?" Neil accused harshly.

Tears start to burn in Dylan's eyes but she furiously blinked them away before they could slip. Me? She thought. She didn't do anything. It was Billy who drove off because he didn't want to wait two minutes for her. She had to lie to cover his ass. And Clara had been a good friend to her so far, kinder to her in a way that her own brother hadn't been in years.

The fake mask Dylan wore slipped and hit the floor. If it was real and made of glass, it would have shattered to pieces upon impact. "I didn't mean to," she whispered even when she knew deep in her heart that she didn't do anything wrong. Dylan feared she would drop and break everything cradled in her arms so she carefully moved to drop them into the sink. Even though she caused the small clatter, she flinched at the volume.

Dylan turned around and realized how quickly Neil had invaded her space. He's furious. Dylan could see it in his eyes. She almost missed dinner. Her anger at her brother wasn't obviously hidden as was his towards her. She was breaking Neil's rules by befriending Clara, a Korean teen whose heritage was evident in her features and surname. The rug was swept out from underneath Dylan's feet and she crashed, hard, when Neil grabbed one of the arms she threw above her head to shield herself and twisted it behind her back.

The limb being forcefully mangled brought Dylan to let out a shout of surprise and dread. In that next second, Neil had shoved her over the table with such force that her head bashed the surface. She cried out at the impact before biting her lip to stop another noise. Neil would kill her if Susan or Max had to witness this.

Literally kill her.

It took all of Dylan's strength to keep any signal of the pain she was receiving inside. "Dad," she started to beg. "Please - "

Neil grasped Dylan's wrist and twisted it with great effort. Pain, like white, hot sparks shot up Dylan's arm and reached her shoulder. She doesn't dare move an inch out of fear of making it worse or angering Neil further for fighting back.

"Dad," Dylan sobbed, terrified, "You're gonna break my arm - !"

"What do you say?" Neil reprimanded darkly.

He wrung her arm again as a reminder of how close he was to snapping the bone. Dylan almost released a pained scream but instead exclaimed, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry, sir, it won't happen again!"

The pressure over Dylan lifted. She immediately backed away from the table, cradling her injured arm close to her chest where it throbbed. It felt like it was on fire. She could barely twitch her fingers without wanting to cry out. The side of her face that hit the table pulsed. Neil's lower lip is curled into a snarl as he glared at his wounded daughter, hurt because of him, and blamed her instead.

"Now look what you did," he spat. "Tomorrow your face will be bruised."

The tears Dylan tried so hard to fight slipped without her permission. They rolled down her red cheeks. "I'll apologize to Billy," she whispered. "I'm sorry, sir."

She didn't hesitate to leave when Neil dismissed her. The last thing Dylan did was grab a frozen bag of peas that she pressed to her injury before darting into the dark and silent hallway. Dylan was so distracted by the cool feeling of easing the throbbing pain that she jumped out of her skin when a voice stopped her from reaching her bedroom.

"He's just trying to make you a better person. If you listened to him, he wouldn't have to hurt you."

It was Billy. Dylan slowly turned and saw him appear with a frown. It's not one of concern, but disappointment. Blame. Dylan would have pitied him if her stomach didn't bubble with outrage at his words. Billy was blaming her for what Neil did at his expense even though he's been beaten himself. How could he side with him?

Someone who loves me wouldn't do this, she thought angrily.

Instead of saying so, Dylan laughed bitterly. "Right. Because he's such a great father. Let me just..." She rose her arm above her head and pretended to reach for something. The instant she does, the familiar burn reappeared and shot through it and she had no choice but to lower it again, pressing the frozen bag where it hurt the most.

"Respect. Responsibility," Billy reminded her coldly. At that moment, Dylan thinks, he sounded exactly like Neil. But this was one Hargrove she wasn't afraid of.

Dylan would've hit him since Neil wasn't watching if her dominant hand and arm didn't hurt so much. Instead, she squared her shoulders and flipped him off with her right hand before storming past him. If Billy thought he could scare her by acting like their father, he should think again.

A shaking hand closed her bedroom door so cautiously that the wood quivered as well. Dylan didn't want Neil thinking for a moment that she slammed it. She darted by Max who was reading some comic book and flopped onto her own bed, her back facing the redhead on the other side of the room, carefully situating her injured arm. Dylan could feel Max's blue eyes piercing her as she tried to read her.

"What happened?" Max finally broke the silence.

Her curious voice carried to Dylan who inhaled sharply. "I fell down the stairs."

"... This house doesn't have stairs."

"Ain't that a bitch?"

Max left her alone after that and Dylan didn't move for the rest of the night. She was too tired to fight it. She yanked her blanket over her head so Max couldn't see her. Tears leaked from Dylan's saddened eyes and soaked her pillowcase while curling against the sheets, wishing she could either sink deep into the mattress to disappear or beat Neil's face into his skull.

Yet, all Dylan could do was cry herself to sleep clutching her damaged wrist.

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author's note:

dylan is almost everything i am except a) a morning person and b) a jogger

chapter inspired by family line for obvious reasons. it's one of my favorite songs at the moment that completely hurts my heart but also describes dylan perfectly. with that being said, FUCK neil AND billy hargrove. we love and support dylan under my roof. 🏠

on a lighter note, clara's distance is nothing personal at all towards dylan! last night after seeing how badly barb's death affected nancy, they decided to do something the next day together. they rope jonathan into it too but clara's just trying to protect her friend from the truth! notice how much clara cares about nancy ... deeply ;)

please leave any thoughts you had on this chapter below, i tried very hard for it! tysm for reading! hopefully will see you guys again soon <3

- koda

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