𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐃 - 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐧

8.

Henry?

In the trees a red balloon sat. A majestic shade of scarlet in the shade of the summer leaves. Floating effortlessly with the wind, unknown to Evie Bowers.

A sigh, a silent prayer, escaped Evie's lips; she hoped Henry and her father would still be out.

Trudging up the driveway, she set her bike by the side of the open door.

Confusion and panic caused her adrenaline to spike. Eyes darting, they catch a glimpse of something red on the ground.

Trails should be of the earth, crafted by happy feet which dance through a meadow.  Only in such a broken world could they ever be of blood.

Something... someone... had been dragged through it.

In a stupor of fear and panic, she followed the path of blood.

Lifeless eyes stared back at her at the end of the trail.

A child.

Then another child. And another.

Pure terror mirrored from their faces to Evie's.

Harsh laughter. Devoid of any real emotion, not even that of twisted pleasure.

A familial face.

Our fears can be triggered by real threats and by memories of threats. Humans find it challenging to unlearn fears.
She was scared of her brother.
What he could do. What he was capable of doing.

The day Henry Bowers was born a psychopath was born. Indifferent to the self and others, empathy shut off and only achieving sick forms of joy afforded by cruelty.

He stood smiling, a victor, atop the corpses. The enemy had won.

Blue eyes met blue eyes. Yet someone's were changing. Burnt yellow seemed to will fear to life and the capitulated.

Evie's brain was sending warning signals, primal fear, to the upper brain. Thoughts became too scattered so her normal functioning was impossible. A panic attack can render one upon the floor, the brain on overload. It is painful. It is scary. And at these times one needs the reassuring presence of someone loving, calm and stable. There was no one else there. No one to rescue her. No one to hear her scream.

In a blink, Henry was no long there either.
Now a clown. 

Kicking his legs in a bored fashion sat the clown on the bodies.
"Hiya, Evie!"

"W-w-wh-" No words could get free. Thoughts ticking too fast.

Ticking.

The clock!

Somehow she caught a glimpse of the clock, it was almost 6pm. Her father would be home soon.

Relief and adrenaline surged her body as Evie gripped onto the door handle. Muscles shaking, she tried to pull herself free from the shackles of her own terror.

"I'm Pennywise, the dancing clown! Can you dance, Evie? Come join me. Come float."

Smiling mouth opening wider and wider. Displaying rows and rows of sharp teeth and... a mesmerising light.

Tearing her eyes away with a scream, she sprinted for the door.

The clown jumped for her.

Evie knocked into her father, collapsing to the floor.

Sobs chocking in her throat. Having holstered his gun, her father wrapped his arms around the young girl.
"What happened?"

There was a sadness in her eyes, the blue too glossy. Her limbs moved as if some inexperienced person was controlling them, her eyes were wide, looking right at him, but not really.

When she finally speaks her voice trails slowly, as if her words are unwilling to take flight.
"Nothing."

There was nothing. No blood. No bodies. No clowns. Just creased cushions from earlier in the day.

The door clicked open and there Henry stood.

Panic sets in deep. The urge to run, escape, hide. Just a child; shaking, terrified.

Before anyone can say anything, Evie runs to her room, locking the door.

After a storm the sunshine returns, and crying is much the same. So she cried. Until she couldn't anymore.