Love Bites from Hell (IT Fanfic)

The Forgotten Ones

The silence that fell over the room was deafening, my heartbeat slowing in time with the soft chirping of the crickets out in the morning sun. Beverly was the first to move, gently placing her hand on my shoulder a bit awkwardly; seeing that I was a bit taller than them. She quietly spoke, "Ramona, you don't have to hide that from us. We all have scars from the past, mentally or physically."
Her kind voice made me smile softly before I picked the bandana off of the floor, shoving the orange cloth in the back pocket of my jeans.

Aunt Roselyn gently pat my back as if telling me to go with my friends without having to utter a syllable. Monika came bounding out of the kitchen in all of her energetic glory; wrapping her arms around my legs before sticking her tongue through the hole where her two front teeth were. I rolled my eyes and gently patted her head, "I'll be back soon Monika, just going out for a bit."
"M'kay Mona!" She beamed those pearly white up at the sound of my chuckle. She quickly jogged outside as aunt Roselyn started to clean the mess the little heathen had made.

I turned to the group, nodding faintly as a signal to leave, which thankfully they understood. Pulling the old bike off of the dew covered grass, I wiped the seat off with the bandana that no longer covered my scar. We made our way through the nearly desolate streets of Derry before a missing child's poster caught my eye. I slowed my pedaling to get a better look, "Hey guys, stop for a second."
Stan pulled up beside my now dropped bike as I slowly walked over to the poster, "Andy Warhol?" I questioned softly, tearing the poster down. I studied it closely, this was one of Monika's friends from third grade; he had just turned ten this year.

I quietly folded the paper and shoved it into my pocket, "we should keep going before someone sees us."
"Agreed." Eddie spoke shakily, eyes darting between the few houses and down the street. I snickered softly at his futile attempts to not be paranoid, but it seemed he was always like that. Once again, Bill was the leader in the group as our bikes skid against the asphalt of the old road, potholes nearly flipping us off our bikes as we rode. It wasn't anything new to learn that children were going missing, aunt Roselyn said it had been going on for years, but it was still a little disturbing. My eyes were drawn to an older looking house with an overgrown lawn, the broken fence looking rather ominous.

I didn't mind going exploring, and that sounded rather appealing right about now. As the group sped off down the old pothole ridden road, I came to a slow halt outside of the old Neibolt house. Its dark exterior was darkened further by the shadows being cast over it by the morning sun burning down on the old planks. I let my bike fall to the overgrown foliage around the broken gate, watching as something scurried past the front door. I figured it was just an animal, best to go in prepared. I picked up an old, rusted crowbar from the dewey grass as I slowly approached the old, creaking door with slow but steady strides. This house was so decrepit that if looks could kill, I would be six feet under by now. I didn't pay much attention to the small animals scurrying around my feet or the insects that seemed to appear out of nowhere; I simply brushed them off and kept walking.

My old sneakers hit the wood with a soft thump as I stood outside the molding door, the poor thing nearly falling off of its hinges from the time that had passed and the weather had taken its toll on the old structure. I stretched my hand out to push the door open, only for it to fly off its hinges with the smallest touch. I cringed as I heard the wood crack and splinter, only for the sounds to subside a moment later to be replaced with a soft laughter. A child's laughter rang through the old wooden corridors, it sounded oddly familiar so against my better judgement, I followed it. It sounded like a little boy; could it have been Georgie?

I took a deep breath only for my senses to be assulted by the gut wrenching scent of black mold and the stench of death. It was absolutely revolting, my stomach churning with even the slightest inhale. I finally had enough and sprinted after the childish sound of giggling with my shirt covering my nose. The laughter became a higher pitch once again, but I didn't care to pay attention to that, I just had to find the kid. That was easier said than done, the hallways were twisting and turning in different directions, often leading to dead ends or the doors opening to another blank wall. I let out a frustrated groan as I opened a window, wanting to breathe in the slightest bit of fresh air.