Reddie // Careless

Fly

Richie pov

The lights dimmed all around the room. I sit on my bed facing the window, looking out onto the empty cracked pavement we call a street. I noticed that i was almost sober from tonights daily dose of vodca. I could taste the substance on my tongue. I licked my chapted lips and placed a new cigaret in my mouth. the taste was familier, comforting.

I could hear the squabbles of my mom yeling at my father for not letting her drink some more. Moments later I heard the door slam and watched my dad leave in his brown Cadillac. He dropped his head on the wheel before driving off. I got up from my bed and pace over to the window. I gave my cigarette one last puff, put it out and threw it out the glassless window.

I stared at the peeling wallpaper and thought to myself, I need to leave this shithole. I need to leave Derry. I changed into my guns and roses t-shirt put on a jean jacket and my keys, and opened my door quietly. I'm not afraid of my mother I just want to avoid talking to her. She always finds a way into my head leading to another bloody razor, and another patched up wrist.

When I reached the door and had my hand on the handle I was stopped by my mothers slurred words behind me. I could barely make out what she said but I was well aware of what had been spoken.

"Your just gunna leave like your dad huh?" She scoffed

"What do you expect?" I tested. I was fed up with her drinking and pushing me around. I turned to face her. Her night gown was filthy from being worn day on end without being washed. Her hair hadn't been brushed in a while, I could tell. She had stopped caring about her weight years ago. This is the mom I know.

"Go on then leave! Go be a fucking screw up like your father! He amounted to nothing lets see how you do!" She screamed shaking the house. normally I would stay and defend my dad but today I left without another word. I stormed out of the house and down the stairs. I strode through the never once alive grass on the lawn, thinking to myself, This it the life I know.

I entered my beat up white truck and hung my head onto the wheel, like my dad had done. I cursed my mother with every ounce of my body. I picked my head up and fought the urge to cry. I took a look at my house. I knew I'd be back. I started the car and drove. I didn't know where I was going but I drove anyway.

I stopped my car at the old quarry. I remembered the fun times I had with my old friends. The summers so many years ago spent basking in the sun, jumping into the cool water, and playing with the losers. I cried in my car for a while, and thought about the good days. Wishing to be in the sun again. To be alive with my friends.

I wiped my tears on the sleeve of my jacket. I exited the car and sat under the shade of a big tree, by myself. I didn't know why but I removed my jacket and my shirt. I unlaced my boots, pulled off my socks and slipped out of my pants. I stood and ran. At the edge of the quarry, I jumped. I thought to myself, God I hope the jump kills me.

Eddie Pov

I hop on my bike and head down to the quarry. It has been my retreat, from what? I don't know. Maybe from my sickness or my gazebos. Or my depressing life I never wanted. I had always wished me and mom never moved to Derry. It has been a shithole the hole 12 years. I couldn't help but think sarcastically, Wow. an 18 year of who hates his life! How original.

When I arrived at the quarry. I sat under the tree I always sit under. I had been coming here for a little over four months, already filling up 3 sketchbooks. I opened my bag and retrieved my supplies. I was looking around for something to draw, when a car pulled up. Because of the small hill I was on, I could see the driver, Richie Tozier my old best friend.

I could see him perfectly. I decided to draw him perfectly too. I started with his truck. I carefully pushed every pencil stroke lightly. The exterior was easy, after all Its just a truck. When I was about to draw Richie, he began to sob. I drew him quickly before he was finished. I knew this had to be soon because Richie Tozier doesn't let you see him cry. When I had finished I admired him. I had absolutely no idea why.

He left his car and sat down on a patch of grass under a tree like me. He looked at the surroundings like it was the last thing he would see. I remembered old times. How we would jump off the edge. And play in the water for hours on end. How the world would get dark yet we would stay up and tell stories while listing to the wind. I drew a picture by memory of us all. The losers.

I drew Beverly first. Her warm smile plastered on her freckled face. Her amber hair that curled in the most unexpected places. Her always positive attitude, I had always admired. I remember ho when I was scared about getting an infection she was the one to calm me down. She was always there for us when we needed her. I drew the more recent Bev next to her. Her punk clothes, always dark, Her face always covered in makeup. Her once crazy hair always gelled.

I drew Mike next. His dark skin and his brown eyes. His hair always curly but in tighter curls His hair was tamed but in a way stray. Like him himself. He always found a new way to look at things. His own unique perspective. I drew grown-up Mike next to him. Always frowning. Always keeping to himself.

Next was Ben. Ben was newer to the group. But he was equally loved by all of us. His lust for history and poetry was ablaze back then. His thirst for knowledge seemed to never be quenched. Until one day it was. He had given up, on everything. He took a razor to his wrist. Some people said it was because Bev chose Bill over him, but some of us know what it really was. In his note he wrote a poem. A poem I chose to forget. I couldn't draw older Ben because he had finished his own drawing.

With tears in my eyes and streaming down my face I drew Stan. Stan was always the one to snap first. I guess it must have been the pressure of maintaining his perfect curls along with being the son of the Rabbi. No one will ever know. Next to him I drew his older version, Beat up from life, torn apart form anger. I squeeze my eyes shut.

I draw BiIl next. He is so alive with a fire in his eyes. His messy hair always in his face. He walked with his friends to the end of earth and back. But he walks the halls now, with his head down low. His eyes to the ground. If you call for him, you best not expect an answer. His music drowns out all sounds. That's the Bill draw the Bill who walks alone.

Last is Trashmouth Tozier. I draw his black hair, his thick rimmed glasses. And his thin but tall frame. His eyes still golden. Ablaze with life. Now his eyes are brown. Maybe black. Its been a while Richie. I've missed your comments and jokes. Now I draw you alone crying. I look up to your spot on the grass. You are getting closer and closer to the edge, And you jump. I think to myself, Fly, Richie, fly. Fly away from this miserable life. None of us have been able to. I close my sketch book and hang my head back on the tree, and I close my eyes.

Updates might be slow. Sorry for misspelling don't comment to correct it. Not all chapters will be this long.

1420 words