IT 2017 - Blonde Hair, Black Lungs.

XIV

Derry Maine Asylum, 1992—

I walk into the building; my eyes go to the lobbyist who waved at me with a smile. I don't answer it and just sign my name onto the visitor sheet. My social worker beside me, she takes a hold of my shoulder stopping me from walking. "It'll be okay kiddo; we'll find you a home." I glare ahead of me, shrugging her hand off.

"This is my home. Derry is my home." My eyes snap to her face, my eyes set on hers, "You all are taking me from my only family. Fucking pricks." I mumble and walk away from her.

I walk into the cold visitation room and sit on the cold metal chair, my social worker behind me—ever the figure of bullshit. I was forced to leave this all behind. Forced to leave Henry, that one hurt, I could care less about it all, but Henry... leaving him left a salty wound.

It's all because none of them wanted to take me. Well apart from Marilyn, she wanted to but Charles, Jace's brother, refused to take me in; he thought that I was bad luck that I 'killed his brother'.

I was told I had to go into the foster system. No matter how much I fought them, I said I could take care of myself alone, that I'd done it before. They always say '16-year-old girls need stable guidance' or some dumb shit like that.

So, this was my last visit with Henry, for at least 2 or 3 years, depending on how far I'm from Derry. I know once I'm 18 I'll move back here and continue my scheduled visits with him. Like clockwork, every few weeks I'll come here and talk with him.

And in those weeks I used to come, he seemed happier. Happy to see me, the one person left who was there for him. Seeing him brought a unique sense of happiness to me, now that's being stripped away again.

So many times, we've gotten good things for such a short time and then life takes them away and leaves us broken and alone. No wonder Henry killed his source of hatred. And it was sad to see him wither away in this place. Hiked up on pills, dazed. Gone.

I snap back to reality when Henry's sat in front of me. I give him a smile which he gradually returns with full happiness in seeing me, "Hi, Henry."

He gives me a 'hi' and leans closer to the table, a redness to his eyes like he'd rubbed them too hard, he was paler too, probably from the medication.

"I brought you a flower today, it's a pretty one, isn't it?" I open my bag, which had been thoroughly checked out, my phone, my wallet, my keys all gone. I'd get it back when I left.

"For me?" He asks with a smile, his hands cautiously reaching out in a cup like manner. I nod and gently place the pinkish, red rose into his palms. It was dethroned of course, a small red ribbon attached to the stem.

"It's pretty." He murmurs, lifting the petals to his nose and smelling it, taking in the natural fragrance of the rose.

"They say roses signify love and all that stuff." I say breathing a laugh through my nose. They were pretty, but I wouldn't give them in such a romantic way, roses belong in nature. But since Henry can't be outside to enjoy such a thing. I brought it to him. For the last time, for a long time.

"Keep it with you, okay? I'm going to go away for a long while, I'll be back and when I come back, I'll bring another one, prettier and redder than that one, okay?" I give an open promise, he dropped the rose at the mention of me leaving again.

He tilts his head just slightly, in a confused, mad type of way and grips the table, his knuckles turning white. "Leaving? You can't leave, you just came back."

I give him a sad smile and place my hand on top of his. "I'll be back, just like normal, okay? It'll just be a bit longer. But I promise, Henry, I'll be back, with too many roses to count."

He smiled at the mention of that and all tension in his body left. He clasped my hand in both of his, "Okay. I'll see you when you come back?"

I nod, once more reassuring the sad 18-year-old boy. I felt helpless, I didn't wanna leave, not again. I just got back to him; I spent so many months saving up just so neither of us had to be alone. Not ever again. But life got in my way, just like so many times before. I hated it, leaving him. But I did.

I stand up and so does Henry, I reach out to him and give him a tight hug, knowing it's the last one for a long time. I sniffed trying to keep my sadness bottled up, so I didn't trigger Henry into thinking it's someone's fault. His grip tightened as he rested his head on my shoulder, Henry was pretty tall to say the least, so he was slightly bent over.

"I'll be back, no matter what." I promise him and he nods and pulls away, "Love ya, bubba. I promise to come back." I mumble, he gives me a sad smile as I leave the visitation room. I glared at the back of my social worker's head as I followed her out of the building.

꒷꒦

Kansas City, 1994—

Alright, to speed up on a few things—I've moved from Philly to Kansas, with my aunt Marilyn. After a lengthy 20 months in court with my family and Marilyn's family, she not only divorced my uncle but got custody of not only me but her kids too.

She fought like hell for us, it was a fresh sight. Since we moved, I'd yet to have been contacted by my mom's side of the family. But I'm fine with that. I've been sent letters from Henry every few months, but after so long they just stopped. To say I had a breakdown is way too kind, I'm doing fine now.

Turned 17, got a good paying job, and finished high school. It all feels a little too surreal, like one day I'll wake up from this coma and I'll be back in my 'room' in Philly.

I breathe out a long sigh as I get up from my bed, closing my notebook and tossing it onto the blanket. My eyes drift to my aged desk, one untouched book still sat on it. A wilting flower attached to it by a blue silky ribbon. It was the book I was gonna give to Henry, I never got the chance to.

It all happened too fast; I ended up leaving it in my room at the group home I had stayed at for a while. But now it's here. Sitting, waiting to be in the hands of Henry.

I walk over to the desk and run the loose side of the ribbon through my fingers. I sighed and grabbed my backpack from off the floor and left my room. I'll give it to him one day. Hopefully soon, maybe he'll love it.

I wonder if he misses me? If he had, why'd he stop writing me letters. I sigh and walk into the kitchen greeting Marilyn with a kiss to her pale cheek.

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Chapter 1 of IT is now completed, watch out for Chapter 2 👀👀