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jaylikesrainbowtigers · 7 months

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My entry for day 3 of @fallofneilhargrove. The prompt was Public Scorn and Don’t make enemies of the local knitting club.

Tw: abuse, abuser point of view, arrest, jail and swears

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Neil Hargrove was having pretty fucking good day. He had been to work, had Susan cook him a proper meal and had sat down to watch football. Like a proper man does.

Sure, things had gotten a bit sticky when attempting to get Billy to be a proper man again but that’s just what Neil had needed to do. Really the bruises were the boys fault. His lack of respect to his elders was a serious problem and there was only one way Neil could sort that. Eventually the pussy had to learn respect.

The game was on full blast and his fresh beer was nice and cold when Susan edged into the room. Neil’s forehead creased. That damn woman was ruining the game.

She stuttered out a “Neil. There… There’s a package for you.” She held out a brown, lumpy package addressed to him.

“Fuck off, woman. Can’t you see the game is on!” He snatched the package out of her hand and ignored her gasp of pain.

He ripped open the paper expecting a awful jumper or something. A belated birthday gift from a aunt or something.

Instead, he got an equally cushy lump of knitting. He scoffed and thought what grandma made this shit? The lump of brown knit unfurled in his hands revealing a bunch of what resembled letters. Neil twisted it around in his hands trying to make out the letter. Ne lnow vhol gau’re dainy. What? He looked a little closer and his blood ran cold.

We know what you’re doing.

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Click, click, click.

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It was the next week and Neil had put the knitting out of his mind. It was probably a mistake or a prank. Neil had absolutely nothing to be ashamed of. He was certain of it.

In fact he was so sure, he had burnt the knitted monstrosity outside. He wasn’t scared of some stupid message.

Which was why when Susan slipped in holding an identical brown package to the one the week before he paid her no mind. No, he certainly didn’t pause the TV to scream at her and snatch the parcel away from her.

He tore open the now familiar brown wrapping to see a flash of blue. He pulled the knit outside of its wrapping to show off the blue hat. The half he was holding looked normal.

The red lettering he revealed by turning the hat spelt was again hard to read. Or perhaps the reader was a little bit drunk.

Asshole.

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The crunch of bourbons filled the air.

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Wednesday had arrived again. Neil didn’t have the football on this time. He wanted to see if what he had did stopped the knitting.

He had been so sure it was some type of prank. It had to be one of the people in his house. Of course, his pathetic excuse for a son was first. Perhaps he should have held off on the punishment before searching his room to find nothing.

The next day he had been down to the craft shop of Hawkins. According to Claud or whatever her name was from the shop, the boy had never set foot in that shop in his whole life. She would have remembered as she was the only worker there. Neil felt the urge to smack her rise again. Alas he couldn’t smack another man’s wife. He’d go to jail because there would be obvious proof.

Next step was to check his stepdaughters room. An unlikely culprit but one to try anyway. The girl wouldn’t get into anything suiting for girls no matter what he did. She wasn’t going to start just to knit him stuff. Clear.

He told Susan not to go anywhere near the mail box today. There was no way she could have knitted them without him knowing.

He pulled himself up from the couch. Time to see if his counterfeit measures had worked. He opened the post box.

Lo and behold a brown package was crumpled in there. His hands had a slight shake to them as he pulled out the package. It was slightly bigger than the rest.

He unwrapped it in the living room. A green jumper came out of the mess, on it knitted a sentence.

Arrest me. I deserve it.

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Giggles in the background as the net tightens.

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Neil refused to sit this Wednesday. He stood looking out the window. It was package time. On a Wednesday.

The postman stopped at a house. Then the next. And the next. Geez, this guy was slow.

Finally, he arrived. Neil watched like a hawk as he produced the brown package filling Neil’s mind with dread.

In fact, over the course of a week when thinking about the package Neil had a) spilt boiling water all over himself, b) accidentally shaved off half of his moustache, and worst of all c) accidentally screwed up the biggest work project of the season. He was lucky to not get fired. He had gone everywhere feeling like everyone was looking at him. The paranoia of not knowing who was sending the packages. What did they know. Whoever it was had to be ruining Neil’s life.

As he looked out the window he though about who it could be. The lady from the supermarket with the wart? That woman with the blonde hair walking down the road Or maybe next door who he was constantly in a argument with? The odd pair of friends with ten cats down the road? Or that guy he beat at poker the other week? Or the man with the moustache and glasses sat in his car outside? One of his stupid boy’s friends? Or maybe one of Maxine’s friends? An unknown stalker?

Whoever it was still eluded him.

In his thoughts he had managed to collect the parcel. He held the thing in his hand and looked hard at it.

His hands shook as he pulled back the paper. A pair of red gloves fell out of the package. They lay side by side on the floor as if someone was wearing them with their palms facing upwards.

The black text clear for all to see.

Abuser.

Neil jumped as he heard a shout at the door and a group of men entered.

“Freeze! Police!”

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The sloshing of wine as a toast to victory. But work wasn’t quite done.

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Neil Hargrove was sat down again. It was the next Wednesday after his entire life had changed.

His orange jumpsuit itched and his bunk mate snored loudly. His bunk mate wouldn’t cower under him. The large man had left a bruise on Neil’s cheek from the only time Neil had tried to enforce his way on the man. It was supposed to be his house, his rules.

But jail certainly wasn’t his house.

And the worst thing was that he didn’t know how. How had it gone so, so wrong? The police had presented him with the photos and the files. Weeks worth of photos, videos and even recordings all painstakingly took. A solid lot of evidence to sink him down. Each strike left on his son. Recordings of his screams slid over his soul. Videos of what he did in his own house.

It had to be connected to the knitting. The evidence hadn’t started collecting until a mere week before that. The calendar in the background of so many photos had proved that.

And here he sat another brown package in hand. This time delivered by a prison guard.

Neil felt like weeping. But of course he didn’t because real men don’t cry. And Neil’s a man.

A orange scarf trailed out of the package. A perfect match to his prison garb. More bold black letters stared out at him.

You got what you deserved.

The contact card of the Hawkins Knitting Club lay forgotten on the floor.

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Four beings of pure rage sat around a table six weeks ago.

Joyce a woman who had lived under a man like Neil. She had children living under a man like Neil. She wouldn’t let him get get away with it.

Claudia who had lost her husband but loved all the more fiercely because of it. No one would hurt a child under her watch.

Sue who was largely unspoken but Sinclair's fight for those who can’t. No matter what Sue didn’t let it slide and she would always fight.

Murray who ran on rage and spite. He was always ready to take people like Neil down. It was his shit, his life’s goal.

They raged in a circle when Joyce had met the brother-sister duo of Max and Billy. When she saw the signs. Neil had crossed the wrong club.

Don’t make enemies of the local knitting club.

So they did what they did best. They knitted.

Not only that but they were patient. Knitting was a craft of patience.

Murray and Joyce sat outside of the house. Everyone went out and they went in. They had plenty of experience planting cameras and listening devices. Murray continued watching and took photos when he could. Claudia made sure to put salt into that man’s coffee every time he asked for sugar. He never remembered her despite seeing her serve him at both the craft show and the coffee shop. Men like him never noticed women like her. Sue was the one who made the call as she compiled evidence meticulously. Erica obviously got it from her mom. She wouldn’t miss a single moment until this guy was finished. And all of them knitted. They knitted until their fingers felt like bleeding. They had a lot to knit as they needed to make this perfect. And perfection takes time.

In the end it was the rage of the knitting club that tore Neil Hargrove down. Because you should never underestimate a bunch of mothers and a journalist who are thriving off coffee, bourbons and wine.

#fallofneilhargrove #fall of neil hargrove #stranger things #strangers things ficlet #billy hargrove #max mayfield #neil hargrove #susan mayfield #joyce byers #murray bauman #Sue Sinclair #claudia henderson #tw abuse #tw jail #tw arrest #tw swearing

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