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ONE WEEK LATER
OH, HOW SHE HAD ALREADY ANTICIPATED IT.
Amelia Pipers hadn't even returned home from the sewers that pivotal day - had it been from fear? No, hell no. Not even slightly. Had it been from a wish to not let any of her friends out of her sight? Yes, perhaps it had been that worry; the worry that it may not be over, that the clown was still looming over them.
The night, the Losers had separated ways after much reluctance showed - but, oh, who could blame them? They had endured the impossible and were still reeling over the young Denbrough's return. And intuition suggested to them that Bill's parents would be soon enough, as well.
Amelia and Eddie had retired to a place where they had wasted away a portion of their friendship in: the shabby, birch treehouse in the backyard of her house. It was a spot where they were so content to joke around in when they were younger, now it had become someplace where things could be accepted freely with the assurance they remained in there. 'What happens in the treehouse, stays in the treehouse' had been a treaty they established come eleven years and have abided by since then.
And, that night, as the stellar night shone through the cracks in the wood, the two thirteen-year-olds laid upon the firm wood with no bother for the hard sensation.
Her hair had flopped against her cheeks in the wind as she lolled her head in direction of Eddie when he spoke. It was unexpected, the words he split that night, and it made her feel the terror once again. Oh, how it only made the blame she felt worse as he murmured about what had gone on in those sewers.
What the boys and she had seen was only the start of the grisly things in those sewers - even though it didn't seem probable. What could be worse than all that we saw? she had thought in the midst of his breakdown.
The wood had done nicely to consume the tears that he cast out of hysteria and for the memories that would plague him for the rest of his life. And she couldn't endure her own remorseful tears while all she could bear to do was take his hand - for all that's he could handle without it overwhelming him. He revealed how he struggled against the clown, upheld 'til the creature would stifle him with a hand over his mouth and a few squeezes. Amelia had even ventured to inquire if it was worth it - the repetitive battle against something that would make a great white shark even seem defenseless. 'It was. Shit, it was,' he had uttered, still crying.
And she accepted it.
So, the proceeding morning, once they had awakened from a slumber of no benefit, Eddie would depart the treehouse and start the trek to his home, though it was the latter spot he had even a slight desire to be. And, Amelia had slid in through her back door and into her parents discussing that morning's newspaper. She didn't fret- oh how quick had she been to leave that note reassuring her place at one of the boys' house for a sleepover.
