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lunarkyn · 1 year

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[ FAMILIAR TASTE OF POISON : 01 ]

You love him, you remind yourself, as you catch him with his hands up his co-workers bra. He loves you, he reminds you, as he holds you after a traumatic episode. He was your salvation, your escape from your past; yet at the same time, he reminded you of everything you wanted to run from.

notes. welcome to the first chapter of familiar taste of poison!! im sorry it took so long, life has been a whirlwind of excitement and angst lol. i'll be working towards releasing the second chapter ASAP!

genre. good amount of angst, fluff, a fairly toxic relationship

pairing. billy hargrove x reader

rating. nsfw

current c/w. THIS HAS SOME EXTREMELY GRAPHIC CONTENT. dni if you are uncomfortable reading scenes that involve sexual assault (i am not censoring the triggers, people who read these need to be aware of what happens). involves very toxic relationship dynamics (ex: manipulating a trauma bond). there is some implied sex scenes & some graphic swearing.

nsfw tag due to the current trigger warnings, which I feel are not appropriate for regular “safe for work” readings.

stranger things masterlist |

[ 01 ] “The sweet escape is always laced with a familiar taste of poison.”

His lips trail down your skin, down your exposed breasts and over your stomach, the fire of shame licking up your figure and engulfing you in a bright pyre. What was his name? His touch ripped shreds into your dignity, your purity, your being. What is even going on?

You shoved at his shoulder, grappling for a sense of control in this pitiful situation; any fight to ground yourself in this world and escape to safety.

Why did you feel so hazy?

Just moments before you had been joking around with some boy at a party– a boy who looked nothing like the one forcing himself on you. Had you looked at him with drunken eyes that gave him a different inclination? Were you too friendly when he walked over and guided you to a room?

"Your body is so fucking perfect," he whispered against your navel, returning to your bruised chest. He took a nipple between his teeth and tugged it roughly, leaving the blotched red of torn skin unloved in his actions. "So fuckin' perfect."

You could do nothing. The weight of your mind had clouded your senses, and the haze of the room felt as if everything was spinning. A sense of overwhelming fear and the betrayal of your body, weakly laying there and taking his brutalities, despite your mind telling you to fight.

Get a grip, YN. Knock him out, swing on him, claw his eyes out, do something better than letting him do this. Fight.

His hands brush along your pants hem, fumbling to unbutton your jeans and slide them down your still hips. The jeans fabric burns along your skin, over your knees and past your ankles, falling to the cold floor. Your voice is barely a whimper, pleas of mercy falling on deaf ears. Eyes struggling to stay open, succumbing to exhaustion and barely supplying enough adrenaline to stay awake, you begin to fall from grace.

With your failing strength ebbing away, you lay, humiliated and ashamed; his rough hands touch your immodesty, leaving bruises at the wake of his heavy gaze.

This can’t be happening.

A loud knocking raps along the door, swinging open wide enough for the silhouette of a head to pop in. The boy above you leans back, sitting on his haunches, his filthy touch leaving scars in your dignity as he covers your petal.

“Everything good in here?” The saviour asks, opening the door further. The golden light from the hall shines around the figure of your guardian angel, illuminating the room. "Thought I heard some fighting."

You survey your surroundings with this sudden burst of hope, unable to recognize anything in the room. Your shirt was thrown onto the back of a desk chair, torn from breast to hem. The new black bra you were so excited to wear was hanging from a strap on a bookcase, hooks unclasped and missing pieces of the latch.

“No,” you rasped, throat dry and closing in on itself; you nearly choked on the lump. Eyes welling up and raining tears down your cheeks, the last of your energy used to weep pitifully at your situation.

“Yeah, we’re fine, Hargrove.” The boy shouted back, his nails digging into your pelvis. Thumps of heavy footsteps and the loud crack of the door shutting crushed your heart, leaving you to lay in the mercy of your attacker, eyes screwed shut in preparation; the smell of cigarettes and booze infected your sense of smell, the face of an archangel descended from the heavens leaned above you, eyes trailing over your figure.

His eyes stared into yours, the whites bloodshot and the blues of his iris staring into yours.

“I want your answer, doll,” the archangel watched down to you, dark lashes kissing when he blinked. You lay still, lethargic from the highs of adrenaline and exhaustion crashing down, dumbly shaking your head. His eyes narrowed; a sudden turn of his body and his hand was dug into the other boys’ hair, yanking him off of you and onto the floor.

“The fuck you do to her?” He growled, moving between you and the boy. Your eyes prickled, closing shut around the flood of tears that trailed down your cheekbones and past your earlobes, dampening your hair. The darkness consumes you, melting you into the cold mattress pressed against your back; the smells and noises and sights turning into the blur of the shadows in the night.

When you had regained the energy to open them again, you were in someone’s car, the rumble of the engine purring away as the driver directed the car around a turn. Your body bare, save for a pair of hot pink panties, and covered in goosebumps, you sat still in shock.

Those weren’t your panties. Those marks weren’t there before. Where were you? Why were you laid so bare in someone’s car?

The driver kept his eyes on the road, only moving from his attentive position to reach back to the backseat and pull back with a maroon red button-up, tossing it onto your lap. You spread it to cover your legs, tugging up the sleeves to cover your breasts as best as you could.

Turning to face the driver, back pressed up against the split between the door and the seat, you examined his features. His jawline was straight and rounded at the crook, a five o’clock shadow of a beard and mustache slightly damp with sweat. Eyes focused on the road, he glanced over to you, the corner of his lip visible to you quirking up for a second. A muscle in his jaw twitched as he reached into his breast pocket and fished out a pack of Marlboro Reds, pulling an orange and white cigarette out from the pack.

It stuck between his lips as he fished out a silver zippo lighter, the tiny flame licking up the tip of the white stick and burning the tip into ash. He dropped the zippo back into his pocket, taking a drag out of his newly-lit cigarette.

“Where are you taking me?” You ask, looking away from his burning gaze when he once again glances at you.

“Your place, if I knew where you lived,” he answered, dragging out a pull until a fourth had burned off the stick. The pungent smell of sulfur and tar seeped into your sense of smell, an acrid taste of burned barbeque following. He reached over you, fumbling to crank down the passenger window; with a scoff, he retracts his arm, noticing how you shy away from his touch.

“Crank it yourself then, unless you like second-hand,” he grumbles, exhaling the smoke towards his cracked window. You end up cranking it down, albeit keeping an eye on him from your peripherals as you did so.

“Where are my clothes?”

“Left ‘em behind. Wasn’t thinking to pick them up while I was busy carrying your ass outta there,” his voice is gruff; he pauses to release a cough, voice raspy when he continues, “They were ripped up anyways. How much d’you remember?”

“Enough.” You tell him, watching as the trees pass by– or rather, how you pass by the trees. As much as you wanted to keep questioning how you got into this situation, how much he knew, you couldn’t. He got you out of there, and that was all you really could ask for.

“Where’s your house?” He asks, stopping his car at a stoplight.

“2532 Maple Street,” you mumble, jolting when his hand brushes the side of your thigh as he messes with his center console. He revved the engine once, jolting the car forward when the light turned green.

“You live next to Nancy Wheeler.”

It’s more of a statement than a question, so you don’t bother to waste more energy affirming it. Instead, you hold your thrumming head, recounting your memories to try and piece together the gaps.

How would you tell your parents?

They had been so adamant against you going to any high school parties, especially without any supervision from your older brother. Coming home like this, practically naked and wearing a random guy’s shirt? To them, it might as well have been the equivalent of coming home barefoot and pregnant.

“What’s your name?” He asks, breaking the silence that had draped itself over the air.

“YN. You?”

“Will.”

You nod, watching as he turns up the radio. A song that sounded familiar began to blast, accompanied by the thumps of Will’s hands against the steering wheel to the beats. He hums along, clearing his throat and launching a wad of spit out the window.

You mull in your thoughts, listening as his gruff voice mumbles along to the lyrics, pausing his thumping to the beat to turn the wheel.

“Pay attention to the cracked streets and the broken homes,” He turns the car sharply again, narrowly missing a parked car as he revs down the street. The roads become familiar as he barrels through a red light, comfortable with the empty roads and parked cars. “Some call it slums, some call it nice.”

He pinches off the bud of the cig, tossing the burned stick out the window.

“I want to take you through a wasteland I like to call my home,” he pulls the car around yet another bend, your lovely home peeking out from the intricately placed trees of your neighborhood. The lights of your house are off, so you assume that your parents and brother have already gone to bed. Lucky for you, you had remembered to hide your spare key under the rock in the garden.

He slows to a stop in front of your house, scoffing when you rush to crank the radio to silent; he shifts the gear into park, turning the keys and pulling them out.

“You need help getting in?” He asks, ripping a loose string from his jean jacket and dropping it to the floorboard at your feet. He looked towards his rear view mirror, examining himself in the reflection.

“I think I’ll be okay,” you answer, pulling the handle and stepping out, your wobbling steps resembling a newborn foal. You hear his door open and shut and the sound of his boot-clad footsteps thumping around the car to you, his arm slipping under yours and around your waist, nudging your arm over his shoulders. “I said that I'd be okay without your help.”

“If you trip and get hurt it’ll be on my conscience for not helping,” he helps you up the sidewalk and down the driveway to your front porch, even holding your waist as you bend over to grab your keys. "There's already enough on my conscience as it is."

You unlock the door, peering into the dark before thanking him quietly. Once again being stubborn, he follows you in, scanning your foyer and living room. He stays behind you as you ascend the stairs, too tired to care about how he had a front row seat to your bare ass, thanks to the thong-style panties he had put you in.

Put you in… he dressed you… he saw you…. naked.

Oh my god.

You hurry the rest of the way up the stairs, yanking him into your bedroom and pushing his nose into the corner of your room.

“Stay,” you whispered, nudging his head further in the corner before hurrying to your dresser and shucking off the clothes he had dressed you in and putting on your own underwear and sweatshirt, including a pair of pajama shorts in the mix.

You fold his shirt, setting it on his shoulder as you tossed the panties into your hamper. No way he was getting them back before they were cleaned.

“Just the shirt?” He asks, scoffing when you answer with a simple no.

“I’ll give them to you when they’re clean,” you finalize, tying the strings of the waistband into a loop and brushing yourself off.

“Whatever, prude,” he turns around, no longer waiting for you to give him the go-ahead.

“Leave through the window. It’s an easy drop,” you tell him, nodding towards your open window, the curtains blowing in from the draft. “Just avoid my mom’s flower bushes or she’ll kill me.”

“‘Kay.” Will hooks his fingers under the window, tugging it the rest of the way up, grabbing an emerald necklace from atop your dresser on the way out. “Insurance– gotta make sure I get those panties back.”

“Why’s that?”

“They belong to DeNorez.” He tells you, grinning. You gag, cringing at the thought of wearing the same panties as Monica DeNorez. He laughs, leaning against the windowsill and seemingly taking a strange pleasure from your disgust. “Kidding; I bought a pack of ‘em in case I needed to replace some one-nighter’s. Got a tendency to rip ‘em off, if you know what I mean.”

“Gross.” You respond, walking up to the window and unlatching it, preparing to drop it closed. “I’ll see you around, Will.”

“Yeah, cya, YN,” he drops down from the overhang, casually strolling to his car as if he did this on a daily basis. The headlights of his car turn on, and the radio is turned up again as he drives off, the bass thumping the floors of your home.

“Welcome to Paradise.”

♡ ☆ ♢ ♡ ☆ ♢ ♡ ☆ ♢ ♡ ☆ ♢ ♡ ☆ ♢ ♡ ☆ ♢ ♡ ☆ ♢ ♡ ☆ ♢ ♡ ☆ ♢ ♡ ☆ ♢ ♡ ☆

You stepped out of your brother’s car, waving goodbye to him as he peeled out of the parking lot. Slinging your duffel bag over your shoulder, you passed through the gates of the public pool entrance, surveying the area as you walked.

Ordinarily, you wouldn’t have gotten a job like this, but the sudden overbearingness of your mom after finding out about your little incident thanks to Will’s loud ass stereo, became too much to deal with. The strictness of her curfew along with her constant prying to ‘what really happened’-- you never had the heart to admit what you went through. It was hard enough having to admit it to yourself.. to tell someone else about it just felt like it solidified it into the truth. Lying was easier.

Pausing to scan the building markers and crowds, you pushed through a large group and headed to the small staff building. A small lady sat at the desk inside, scribbling something on a notepad and then typing it onto the typewriter to her side. She looked up at the tingle of the bells hanging above the door, a wide smile spreading across her face at the sight of you.

“YN, right?” She stood up, outstretching her hand, “I’m Pamela Winters, but you can just call me Pam. It’s nice to finally meet you. Please, sit.”

You shake her hand, stepping around the red pouf chair in front of her desk and dropping into it. The seat was hardened beyond comfort, most likely having been sat in too many times to count.

“Are there any questions you have before you start?”

“Not really,” you lick your lips, “Where can I store my things?”

She stands from the desk, rounding it and walking to a door you had formerly believed to be a bathroom. She opens the door, motioning for you to follow. The two of you walked down a slim hallway, watching as she pointed to each of the labels of the door.

Women’s changing room. Men’s changing room. Employee lounge.

“Inside each changing room are five rows of lockers, twenty lockers in each row; visitors can rent locks from here, we have a list of all the codes in case someone forgets theirs,” she hums as she guides you into a storage room, which was filled with racks of pool equipment and cleaning supplies. “Everything you need for closing is here, plus extra. If you want you can buy a lock for yours in the lounge, but honestly, I don’t think anyone is gonna want to snatch your stuff.”

She turns you back around, strolling back to the employee lounge door. The door had no lock or pin pad, which slightly concerned you, yet you continued alongside Pam without a word. Pam pushed the door open, nodding to a curly-haired brunette who was pulling her hair up into a mess of a ponytail. The girl stood up from her seat at the table in the center of the room, letting her hands drop to her sides as she circled around to stand with the two of you.

“Hi, I’m Heather,” She introduced herself, brushing off her periwinkle jacket as she stuck out her hand for you to shake. “She can shadow me, if you want, Ms. Pam.”

“That’d be wonderful, I’ve got some paperwork I need to do anyways. That’s really all for the tour, so YN, if you don’t mind shadowing Miss Halloway here then that’ll be your on-site training.” Pam told you, patting your back as she exited the room.

Heather stepped back, slipping her jacket off, leaving her in a one-piece lifeguard uniform. You stood at the door as she put her jacket back in her locker, the yellow whistle dangling from the rope around her neck, ringing soundly as a bell.

“So, why’d you apply here?” Heather asks as she leads you down the exit, walking through the women's changing rooms rather than the main office. You simply follow, playing with the threads of your army jacket.

“Change of scenery,” you respond. It wasn’t exactly a lie – just not the full truth.

“Well, it’s definitely a change alright.” She stops at a lifeguard stand, dropping her white and red sunglasses onto her nose as she looks up at the person sitting on the seat. You shielded your eyes with your hands, following her gaze to a shirtless lifeguard who was yelling at a kid to stop running on the concrete.

The lifeguard turns to look down at the two of you, eyes covered by their own pair of yellow sunglasses. They descend down the stairs, and suddenly, the smell hits you. Sunscreen and Marlboro Red cigarettes.

“Hey, Halloway. Break over so soon?” The guy ignores your presence, instead focusing his attention on Heather. Not like it mattered anyways. You weren’t here to date anyone. “Who’s the new kid?”

Heather climbs up the stand, leaving you to introduce yourself as she pops open the umbrella and takes off her sunglasses, settling into her post.

“YN,” you introduce yourself, watching his face as he pulls down his sunglasses. Will.

“Hargrove,” he shakes your hand, ignoring the gobsmacked look on your face as he eyed a middle-aged woman who was applying sunscreen to the exposed parts of her torso. You retract your hand and settle it back into your pocket, following his gaze again as it settled on another middle aged woman who was adjusting her breasts to be fully covered again by her bikini top.

“Nice to meet you.” You sit at the edge of the pool, splashing the water as your feet submerged. He crouches next to you, his nose brushing against your hair as he lips graze over your ear.

“Nice to meet you too.”

You shivered, scooting away as he began talking to Halloway about staying behind late to clean up the men's locker rooms. You listened quietly, instead paying attention to a group of kids horse-playing around. Neither lifeguard made a move to stop them, so you assumed that it was alright.

“Do you need a ride home, YN?” Heather asked, looking down at you. You returned her gaze, forcing a small smile.

“No, that’s okay, my brother’s supposed to pick me up.”

“Okay, good. See? We can totally hang out then after you get done,” Heather tells Will, playing with the whistle dangling from her neck.

“Alright alright.. fine,” Will replies, stretching as he stands. “Well, just wait up for me in the office while I tidy up.”

A group of women begin to pack their bags, loudly gathering their children as they flocked out towards the locker rooms. You checked the plastic watch you wore on your wrist, counting down the ticks until you could go home.

4:14

Halloway descended from the lifeguard stand, sighing loudly as she began packing up the umbrella and the floaties. You followed her around as she showed you all the spots to put things away at, watching as she stared at Will’s butt as he slipped into the men’s changing room.

7:45.

Where had the time gone?

The pool area was practically empty, save for a few ladies who lingered near the women’s changing rooms, talking up a storm. A family of five was loading up into a van in the parking lot, their loud chatter echoing into the woods beyond the road.

You looked towards the buildings, watching as the falling sun left a strip of golden light along the tops of the roofs, which quickly dimmed. Soon enough, the families were gone, and the only source of light were the spotlights that surrounded the pool and its structures.

7:58.

“Let me go punch my card, and I’ll wait by the gate with you until your brother gets here.” Heather tells you, slipping into the main office. The lights illuminate the windows, and you hear faint voices from inside.

7:59.

8:00.

8:01.

The doors jingle open, and she steps out. Your bag and hers are strapped around her shoulders, and she hands yours to you.

“Thanks, I would’ve forgotten it,” you tell her, swinging the strap over your shoulder.

“Figured. It’s a lot to take in.” She replies, walking alongside you to the gate. Only a blue Camaro sat in the parking lot now, which you knew was Will’s car, considering he drove you home in it once already.

You wondered if he told Heather about your first meeting with him. What was their relationship anyways? Were they just co-workers? Friends? Lovers?

Not like it mattered, you told yourself. It was just curiosity.

8:15.

Where was your brother?

“By the way-” The sound of footsteps stopped Heather’s train of thoughts as you both turned around, watching as Will walked over to the two of you, keys jingling in hand. He nodded to you, smiling as he shut and locked the gate, pocketing the keys.

“Your ride hasn’t come by yet, YN?” He asks, standing next to Heather.

“Nope,” you answer, leaning slightly to see if you could see his headlights down the road. “Guess he got caught up in something.”

“That’s fine. I’ll just take you home, you can call him from there.” He tells you, already heading over to his car.

“No, it’s fine, I’ll wait.” You tell him in response, sitting on the curb. Heather already looked like she was rearing to go to wherever they were heading to, and you certainly didn’t want to spoil her fun. “Enjoy your night.”

He lingers for a moment, then he slips down into his car, letting it warm up for a moment. You thought he might stay considering how his eyes settled on you, but Heather’s wave to you must have snapped him out of it.

The stereo blasts an unfamiliar song as he pulls out of the parking lot slowly, his headlights beaming on you for a moment too long, causing you to squint your eyes as he turns out onto the road. It takes a moment for your eyes to readjust to the single spotlight of the parking lot.

An owl hoots in the distance, and you watch the shapes of the trees sway in the wind. Pulling your jacket tighter, you mull over your plan for tomorrow. Did you want to pack lunch? Buy some chips on the way to work?

You check your watch, shivering as your arm leaves the warmth from inside your sleeve.

9:34.

What a jackass.

You'd make sure his ass got chewed out when you got home. Exhaling, you watch as a puff of steam comes from your parted lips.

9:35.

Might as well walk home at this point, you think to yourself, heaving yourself upwards as you begin to walk towards the road. Thankfully, you had a pretty good mental layout of the town, considering the lifeguard training had you taking the same path for nearly two weeks straight.

It’d be easy to walk home.

Right?

9:37.

You turned back, watching down the road as a cars headlights shone brightly. You paused, watching as a blue Camaro looped through the parking lot, pulling up next to you. The window cranked down, and there sat a casually dressed Will, hair slightly damp and messily pulled up into a mix of a bun and a ponytail.

“Your ride still isn’t here?” He scoffed, turning the key back and shutting off the engine. The car door swung open as he stepped out, hand on the roof of the car as he shut the door. He opened the back door, pulling out a small quilt as he wrapped it around your shoulders, guiding you to the passenger side.

“I’ll just walk home, it’s fine,” you protest, grunting when he lifts your legs and drops you into the passenger side front seat. Your bag is tossed to your feet, and the door shuts behind you as he rounds the car to the drivers side. The thump of the back door finally motivates you to just accept it and click your seatbelt on, watching as he falls into the driver's seat and cranks up the heat.

“Too dark to do that safely, you know. I coulda hit you if I wasn’t paying attention,” he turns the wheel as he pulls out of the parking lot, heading down the familiar streets to your home. For once, he turned down the music. “D’you mind if I come in when I drop you off? Only for a second. Gotta pee.”

“Sure.” You watch the trees pass by, wondering if the animals that lived inside them were as cold as you were. “Do you have a hero complex or something, Will?”

"Whadd'you mean?"

"Like, do you always try to save girls all the time?"

"Only the ones that need saving."

"I don't need saving."

"Yeah, sure you don't."

He pulls out the box of cigarettes, chuckling as you preemptively roll down the window. Will reaches over to the glove box, apologizing quietly when the lid hits your knees. You hiss from the sudden pain, dropping your knees down so that your legs were outstretched.

Will lights the cig and slips it between his pursed lips, the ashes falling into his lap. The car cruises into your neighborhood, and you’re just about to tell him to park on the street before he guides it into the driveway, right up next to your brother’s car.

Hmn.

You slip out before he can say another word, dumping the blanket into the seat behind you as you yank out your bag and hurry down the sidewalk to the front steps of your home. The door is unlocked as you twist the knob and push it open, waiting for Will to step inside before shutting it behind you.

Your brother's mop of hair sits at the couch, watching TV as he talks to your Dad. Dad, however, swings his head around to see the newcomer, eyes immediately suspiciously looking him over, then turning to you. You stomped over to your brother, shoving his head forward.

“You never came to pick me up, Chase, what the hell man?”

“Language.” Your mother pipes up from her office, her head poking out the doorway to monitor the commotion.

“Look, I forgot, my bad,” Chase stands up, hands splayed out in surrender. “I got caught up with stuff and came home and took a nap, I totally forgot that I was supposed to pick you up, my fault.”

Dad stands as well, hand outstretched towards Will. Chase finally seems to notice Will, eyes narrowing as he looks him over.

"Hargrove."

"LN."

"Thanks for picking her up. Don't do it again."

"Can't help myself, you know. Damsel in distress' always pulls at my heartstrings." Will reaches over and shakes your Dad's hand, grinning. "Sir, if you don't mind, I'd like to take your daughter out tomorrow. To the movie theater."

“After work?” Dad asks, eyebrow raising as he looks at you, then back at Will. “What’s your name again, son?”

“Billy Hargrove, sir.” Will introduces himself, stuffing his hands into his pockets. He rocks his feet back and forth, staying a few feet away from you. “I’ll have her back before 10.”

“9:30 sharp. She’s got a curfew.” Dad tells him; Will nods. He didn’t even bother to ask you if you wanted to go. “Any later and I’ll have you arrested for kidnapping.”

“I’m almost 18, Dad. Are you really giving me a curfew?”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have snuck out and partied all night.” he retorts, thumping back down onto the couch with a huff. Mom comes in for the rescue, accepting a half-hearted introduction from Will as he stares down your brother.

“Well, I should get going. Lots of damsels to save.” Will announces, accepting a twenty dollar bill from your Mom.

Dad laughs, apparently taking it as a joke as your Mom nudges you after him.

“Say goodbye to him, since he drove you all this way on his own, YN.” Mom tells you, shutting the door behind the two of you. Your family’s voices are muffled as they discuss something, and you hear Chase storm up the stairs, his voice a little bit louder than your parents.

He passes you back the twenty, ignoring the way you push it back to him, instead opting to descend the stairs. He turns to watch your awkward expression as you stuff the twenty into your jacket pocket, smiling at you.

“Well, thanks, I guess.” You tell him, crossing your arms to keep in the heat. “I'll try not to be a damsel in distress again.”

“It’s no problem. With a damsel as pretty as you, I’d be happy to be a hero all the time.” He smiles, stepping up one of the stair steps so he was slightly taller than you. “Look, about the name thing, I know you’re probably wondering–”

“It's fine, I get it.” you step back, rubbing your arms. “It’s cold, so.. I wanna head in and warm up.”

“Right... Sorry.” He steps back down, seemingly unsure of himself. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

"Yeah."

"Bye then, YN."

"Bye, Hargrove."

You step back inside, shutting the door behind you, still holding onto the knob. It wasn't until you saw his headlights pass over the window and down the road, disappearing into the distance, that you finally let go.

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