"I've realized that..." he started, then took a shaky breath. "Earlier today, when Stanley pulled you aside... seeing you two so close and secretive, I hated it." The words tumbled out in a rush. "I don't like how others make you smile..." He traile...
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°•°Vanessa's POV°•°
Eddie didn't hesitate, speeding down the dark roads of Derry as if the town itself were trying to swallow us whole. He kept mumbling to himself, a frantic litany of "just gotta get home" and "should never have come back." I agreed with the sentiment, a part of me screaming to flee. But another, deeper part knew we might have to stay and finish this. I wouldn't tell Eddie that; he'd probably drag me to a doctor to have my head examined.
He screeched to a halt in front of the inn, Richie pulling in right behind us. They burst out of their cars with a shared, panicked energy.
"Let's get our shit and get the fuck out of here," Richie said, already taking the stairs two at a time.
"Did you leave your stuff here?" Eddie asked Ben, hot on Richie's heels.
"No, my stuff's still in the car," Ben said, though his attention was fixed on Beverly, who looked pale and distant.
I followed my husband to our room. He'd unpacked with his usual fastidiousness, and now he was frantically throwing everything back into his suitcase. Mine was still zipped shut, untouched.
"I'll be waiting for you downstairs," I told him, needing air that didn't smell of his fear and my own guilt.
I met Richie in the hallway as he exited his own room. Without a word, he took my suitcase and carried it down the stairs for me. "Whatever you guys are talking about, let's make it happen faster, all right?" he called down to Ben and Beverly. "We gotta go."
"Eduardo, andale! Let's go!" Richie yelled up the stairs.
I was about to tell him Eddie would be down in a moment when my attention was snagged by the conversation below.
"There's something you're not telling us," Ben said, his voice low and intense. "You knew how Stanley died. You knew."
Sudden, vile images flashed behind my eyes-visions I had suppressed for decades and wished I could forget. Why were they surfacing now?
"Wait, what?" Richie questioned, pausing on the steps. He'd heard it too.
"I can't do this," Beverly said, trying to walk past Ben toward the reception desk.
"She knew how Stanley was going to die, is that what she just said?" Richie asked, thoroughly confused now. He followed them, and I trailed behind, a silent witness to the unraveling.
"You can't just walk away from this," Ben insisted, blocking her path.
"How did you know where he killed himself?" he pressed, refusing to let it go. "Bev. Talk to me. Just talk to me. Like we used to. Come on, how did you know?"
"Because I saw it!" Beverly finally cried out, her composure breaking. "I've seen all of us die."
A violent shiver racked my body. Hearing her say it out loud made the terrifying premonitions feel infinitely more real.
