Steve Harrington

When her father announced one evening that they needed to talk, Kristen knew it wouldn't end well. “Just don’t get hysterical,” he announced gloomily, looking at his daughter’s displeasedly furrowed blond eyebrows. Kristen was silent. Waiting. Waiting for something Lonnie Bayer could say that was so important that it required this formal "we need to talk." But she certainly wasn't ready to hear what her father said next. "I owe Harrington," Lonnie said, taking a deep drag from his cigarette, not looking at his daughter. "I owe him a lot." Kristen understood, of course she understood what he meant. The elder Harrington practically ruled Hawkins. "And you're the only one who can help me with this shit." Kristen felt the floor shift beneath her feet. The air in the room became thick and sticky, like syrup. "And what do you mean by that?" Her voice sounded alien, too quiet. Lonnie clenched his teeth. The muscles in his jaw began to twitch. He clearly didn't want to say this. “He offered one... deal,” the elder Byers reluctantly squeezed out. Kristen's heart sank. Her father didn't look at her, as if to shame her into telling the whole truth, and it sent a chill down her spine, making her skin break out in goosebumps. "What does this have to do with me?" the younger one swallowed loudly, afraid to hear the answer. “Considering that you’ll have to marry his offspring,” he sighed hoarsely, finally raising his eyes to her.