Gone Girl // IT Fanfiction

Eleven: Monster

Sometimes Richie wished that their parents would pay attention to them. If they did, then maybe they could help Kit. But they didn't, so those Summer days after the Losers Club broke up were the same.

She barely left her room anymore, only ever leaving to use the bathroom or grab something to eat or drink. Even then, though, she wouldn't take much food back with her. A slice of bread one day, an ice-block the next. For three days she didn't come into the kitchen at all. 

She hadn't changed her clothes in weeks either. She wore the same loose, long-sleeved shirt and pajama bottoms day after day. There was no evidence to prove that she had showered or brushed her teeth or just taken any kind of care for herself. Every time Richie walked past her closed door room, the air surrounding it was stale, as though she hadn't opened the windows for a long time. Richie knew for a fact that her curtains had remained shut since they had fought It: he would see them closed every morning he'd leave the house to go play games at the arcade, still shut by the time he'd return home later that afternoon. The smell of cigarettes also slipped underneath her closed door and into the hallway. Richie had no idea where she was getting them from, but he suspected that she either had a stash in her room or she was stealing them from their mother, who had on occasion questioned why her cigarette stash was getting low faster than usual, but never did anything to follow up that question.

He'd tried to get her to come out with him. He'd tried to get her to eat more, or at least take a shower. But she was unresponsive to his attempts. He'd tried to make her laugh, tried to make her speak, tried to make her cry even. But she was a ghost, her hollow eyes only staring at him. Once, he had burst into her room and opened her curtains, saying that soon Summer would be over so they should make the most of it and maybe go for a swim at the quarry. As soon as the sun came shining into her room she had flinched, staring at her brother from her bed with wild eyes. He didn't know why she looked that way until he took a good look around her room which looked so much different than the last time he had been in it. Now, clothes were scattered all over the floor, her sheets were bunched up upon the bed, a small pot next to her bedside was half full of cigarette butts, and her art corner was now just an art room. Acrylics, charcoal, watercolours, and oils covered her desk, and on her walls, furniture, and floor were pieces of art. 

"What the fuck..." Richie had murmured, picking up a piece of paper. Staring back at him were eyes he knew, however they'd never looked at him with such genuine happiness before. This was a side of Patrick Hockstetter Richie had never witnessed before. This wasn't the only piece Kit had created of him, and he wasn't the only figure she had made either. Richie saw sunsets on beaches and dark, shadowy figures with long limbs and no face, and It. Richie had almost jumped when he saw those golden eyes staring at him. "What are you doing? What... What is all this?!"

"Have to get them out," Kit whispered, clutching a pillow to her chest tightly.

"Get them out? I don't understand-"

"Have to get them out of here," She clarified, pressing a finger against her head hard. Her fingers were still stained with watercolour from whatever piece she was last working on. 

"Kit-"

"Go away, Richie," she interrupted, leaning over towards her bedside table and grabbing a cigarette and lighter. "I want to be alone." 

Richie was too scared to argue back, heading out of her room with worry. As soon as he closed her door he heard her get off her bed and close her curtains once more. 

Stan didn't know what to do when Richie had told him what was happening. He always knew that Kit was a bit of a mysterious character, but this wasn't mysterious, this was troubling. When Richie had told him about the scars that marked Kit's arms, Stan was ashamed to admit that he thought that maybe she had lost her mind. He never voiced this thought to Richie, though, knowing that Kit's brother would've snapped at him for calling her crazy. But Stan didn't know what else it could be.