𝔸 ℝ𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝔹𝕪 𝔸𝕟𝕪 𝕆𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣 ℕ𝕒𝕞𝕖 - reddie

#𝟚𝟙: 𝕀 𝔸𝕞 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔼𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕆𝕗 𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕝𝕕𝕤

The more I tried to focus on breaking the contact of the spider's throat, the harder it was to loosen the grip it had on me. A tingling sensation rushed over every inch of my skin, as if someone was blowing gently into both my ears. I felt like I was floating freely in a large pool made of ice cold water.

I could barely feel the ends of my toes, but a sort of numbness overwhelmed me. I felt like I was under anesthesia, a hell of a lot of it, and I was falling deeper and deeper, lower and lower...

Or in this case, drifting higher and higher. My feet tingled in the pins and needles surrounding each toe, as if I was trotting through a thick forest. In a matter of seconds, the ground felt so far away. I would've flailed my arms and screamed for help to return, but my voice seemed to be ripped out of my throat. Despite my mouth being wide open and exposed, no noise would come out, no matter how hard I tried.

Higher and higher. Farther and farther. Was I still even breathing? I didn't know. I felt sharp pains in both lungs, but made no effort to yell out in response. It felt like sleep paralysis. It felt like dying. No, it felt like the aftermath of dying. It felt like death.

With the little room in my brain, I tried to make sense of what was happening in the world around me. Bill and Mike rushed toward the spider with accelerated speed. Beverly tried to make her way through the water after them, but Ben stopped her. Eddie was panicking on the stream bank, unsure of what to do. He looked faint, and distant, and sick. One of his greatest fears. He never wanted to look sick.

And me?

I was floating.

Just like a balloon.

Is this how Beverly had felt? During the last battle against Pennywise, way back as early teenagers, Bev had become a victim to the deadlights. Her eyes had become slated white, covering the nice shade of blue that they had originally been. I remember the look on her face. I was never a fishing man myself; but she had looked like a tilapia on the end of a line. Fresh and gone. The fish had just wanted a snack, and the next thing it knew, it was dead. Beverly looked the same way. Shocked. Frozen. Dead.

She got out of it, though, so thank her lucky stars. And by lucky stars, I meant Ben Hanscom. He was quite the fairytale, poetry, silent type; but you had to be stupid not to know that true love's kiss works every time. 

I guess we discovered something that night, when Beverly had been caught in the trance. Ben was her true love.

One peck, and her blue eyes had returned. All it took was a kiss. A small gesture, innocent and sweet, like two little kids on a playground. Quick and passionate. If it was that easy, I'd take my chances.

Well then, Eddie Spaghetti, I thought deliriously, trying to blink. I wasn't able to. Pucker up, buttercup.

I pictured how I looked to anyone else, even if my brain felt distant and like it was slipping away by the second. I thought I must've looked pretty fucking stupid, my eyes wide and white, and my mouth dropped open in a dumb manner. I would've laughed to myself if I wasn't so fucking desensitized.

Everyone knew the helpless feeling of being underwater. Everyone knew the monotone, lifeless experience of swimming, or drowning, or floating in the midst of aqua reservoir. Silence. Emotionless. Cold. Dark. For the most part, your eyes were closed. And I felt like I had my eyes closed. They stung from being held open, but after a while, the world faded, and they felt like they were tightly shut.

If you've been underwater, you know how useless it is to scream in the process. You can scream and scream, but it gets you nowhere. If there isn't any oxygen, there's no sound. It was as simple as that. I wasn't in water, I wasn't in space.