IT 2017 - Blonde Hair, Black Lungs.

II

Some sequences won't match up with the movie—

I get into Reg's car. He was nice to me, him and Victor. As for Patrick, he always whispered in my ear how he wanted to store me in his fridge, so he'd have me forever. Henry never really stopped Patrick from having his way with me, never fully. A few thigh rubs, arm squeezes, gropes.

No matter how much I wanted it to stop, Henry let it continue if he didn't feel like it was truly a lot. Reggie was usually the only one to yell at Patrick to 'not do it in his car.' I look up from my daze and see Reggie speeding down the road barreling towards a boy on his bike.

"Hey! Don't fucking hit him!" I screech, actually terrified. I lurch forward and swerve the wheel to the left, nearly hitting the boy. I topple to the left, falling onto Henry. He glared daggers at me, ready to murder me for ruining his malicious fun.

I sit up and push open the car door, we were stopped in the middle of the road next to a butcher shop—it more often than not reeked of rotting meat—I stumble out, right over Henry.

I didn't see if we nicked him, or if he got away. I didn't see a dead body on the road because of us, that was a relief at least.

I run to where I saw him last, I feel like a moron—head swiveling about in a panic for the body of the old sheep farmers boy. I, by chance, look into the alley just across from where he'd last been. There I see him, sweaty and panicked, but safe. He wasn't hurt. I let out a quick breath of relief which quickly gets stolen from my lungs when the screeching of tires comes from beside me.

I didn't react fast enough when Reggie's car goes speeding into the alleyway. The boy just seconds before seems to come back to life and topples to the side, avoiding being hit by Henry. Henry maneuvers out of the car window throwing a lit cigarette butt at the boy, "Get out of my town!" He yells, getting back into the car and speeding off, leaving me behind.

I run into the alley and trip slightly, I fall to my knees, scraping them, the adrenaline that was pumping manically through my blood now coming to a full crash—making my legs feel like jelly.

"Mike? You okay?" The butcher from the shop asks the mystery boy. He breathes heavily and slowly nods, ultimately the butcher leaves and I scoot closer.

Now I see what my brain was too panicked to see in the speedy moments of Henry's reign. He was targeted by Henry because he's a black boy. 

Wait, that's right—he's old man Leroy's grandson, he didn't come to town much.

Henry goes after the losers because of certain surface level traits. Like Stan being a Jew, Richie was a bit of a pansy, Bill was a stutterer, and Eddie was a peculiar germaphobe. All of which were flaws in Henry's eyes. 

He despises weak people, I think it was because of Dad—after mom and I left for Chicago when I was just a girl, I think Henry thought it was weak to run. And it just spiraled from then on.

I place my hands on the boy's knees and look at him attentively, he was quite a sight, not in a bad way—he was cute. I'd be beaten if someone from this town heard me say that.

The boy—Mike—Looks up at me like a deer caught in headlights, "You're that Bowers' sister? Why're you here?!" His voice raises and eyes narrowing at me, for a good reason. My brother and his friends almost just murdered him. 

I raise my hands in front of my body falling back on my heels, showing no threat to him—or at least trying to. "I'm sorry for what he did. I tried... I tried to make him stop." I mumble at a loss; He shakes his head standing up and brushing his jeans off. I follow after him, brushing my butt off too.