An Inhaler Isn't Needed

Chapter 7

Richie laid on his bed, legs crossed, one kicking in the air comfortably. He’d put on a tape of one of his favourite U2 albums; the song ‘With Or Without You’ was playing, and Richie sang along to it with a wide grin on his face.

Richie saw Eddie sitting cross-legged just above his bed, and decided it was time to maybe get some answers about some of the things floating in his mind. Richie winced at his own use of words. Floating. Eddie floats, too.

Richie shivered a little, but knew that should be a separate conversation altogether.

He sat up on his elbows, “So, Eds,” the nickname caused the other boy’s eyes to roll, “Eds, how come you can’t leave?” Richie gestured around the room.

Eddie’s dark eyes shot up to meet his, “It’s a long story.” Richie noticed how his hand was hovering just above the zipper of his fanny pack, as if this was another habit.

“I’m all up to long stories.” Richie grinned, showing all his teeth, including the front one which had been chipped in another fight with Henry Bowers.

The ghost took note upon this, but didn’t comment; instead, he gathered his thoughts. “It...It has to do with exactly how I died.”

Richie sat up, and Eddie noticed how his ears even seemed to perk up a little. Like a dog when it’s excited. Eddie felt a faint blush start on the tip of his nose.

Eddie continued, running a hand over his face, “It, um, it’s hard to remember now. And, everyday, it seems-my memories seem-to become fainter and fainter. I don’t know any other dead people, or maybe I could ask if it’s the same way for them, too. Or, if it’s just because of It....” Eddie stopped, shook his head, and continued again, “Anyway, it happened not too long ago, I think. That’s based on the fact that Bill and them aren’t much older than they were when it happened. Um, okay, so...okay.”

Eddie closed his eyes, a look of concentration on his face. Richie thought that he must be having a hard time of remembering.

“I guess I should start with telling you that after Bill’s brother died, and we found out that It had been doing it, and after all the stuff It had done to haunt us, Bill decided we should go into It’s lair, which is the house on, um, Neibolt street.

“So, we drew straws, or something, to see who’d go in there to fight It. We were all terrified; the five of us, anyway. Bill...Bill wasn’t scared at all.” There was a hint of that same admiration in Eddie’s eyes. It always appeared when he talked about Bill, Richie noticed.

Eddie kept talking, “I went in with Bill. Somehow, we got separated, and It was...It was almost on top of me. My-My arm had broken because I’d fallen, and, um, I couldn’t get away from It. At all.”

Richie said in a soft voice, “So, It killed you?”

Eddie laughed, somewhat bitterly, “No. Beverly came in, and we managed to hurt It long enough to get out of the house.” Eddie’s gaze became harder, “It was after we got out, that I died.

“My mom was beyond furious. Not at me, but at my friends. I remember she, uh, she told me to get in her car, and I guess she was so mad, she wasn’t thinking and threw her purse onto my arm-the broken one. Hurt alot.” Eddie sniffed a little, “So, I stayed in the hospital for a while. My friends weren’t allowed to visit me. After I got out, my mother practically smothered me. I took more pills in those short, few weeks than I’d had...ever.

“My mom...She didn’t know what I was taking. Some of my medication were gaz-” Eddie laughed at himself, the laugh still bitter, “placebo’s.” He said the word slowly, then continued, “But, I guess the new ones were the real deal.

“They must’ve been a bad mix because one night, I took them and had a really bad stomach-ache.” Eddie looked at Richie, partially to make sure he was still listening, partially to make sure he was ever even there to listen. “I didn’t wake up the next morning.”

Eddie shifted his gaze around the different walls in the room, “She practically locked me in here for weeks, trying to protect me. And, I died in here.” He shrugged, “That’s why I can’t leave. At least, that’s my best guess.”

Sometime while Eddie was talking, Richie had pushed his glasses up to rest on the top of his head. He spoke in his British Voice, “Well, that was quite a doozy.” He laughed for a few moments, and smiled to himself when Eddie joined in.

“Yeah. It was.” Eddie clasped his hands together, “I’m okay with how everything ended, now that I’ve looked back on it. My mom...she just wanted to protect me.”

Richie ran a hand through his hair, effectively knocking off his glasses, “Lord, a’missy!” He exclaimed in a Voice that sounded straight out of the deep South, “So, mista Edward, you tellin’ me y’all went ‘nd fought this here clown? ‘Nd he’s still walkin’ ‘round?”

Eddie sighed, “Unfortunately.”

Richie grabbed for his glasses, and slid them onto his nose, “Then, how’sa ‘bout we go ‘nd kill ‘im for good?”