WHEEZY // an IT story

e i g h t e e n

JUNE 12th, 1989

the floorboards of the old house on neibolt creaked under the losers' sneakers. richie shuddered, not because he was afraid, but because it was the middle of summer, and the house was cold.
he had an idea that it really was staying here.

the teens dispersed among the foyer of the large house, looking at everything and blowing dust off of old furniture. richie, however, chose to explore an octagon shaped room. inside, giant black webs spiraled from the floor up to the ceiling. he peered into them, and it seemed as if there were various objects trapped in the blackness. he shut his eyes and reached into the web, hoping it wouldn't hurt or burn. surprisingly, it didn't, it felt like reaching into a cup of pudding. he managed to wrap his hand around something, and he pulled it out.
finally, he opened his eyes and peered down at what he had grabbed.
immediately, his face paled, and the object dropped out of his hand. it was an arm. and not just any arm, eddie's arm. the limb stretched all the way up to the shoulder, and there, the skin around the joint had turned purple.
richie rolled the arm over with his sneaker. where it had been torn off, the muscles and tendons clumped under the skin and poked out in ragged points. the bones were like yellowish-white lumps. but, worst of all, pieces of eddie's pink polo shirt were matted down by blood. 
richie felt vomit rise in his throat, and he immediately turned around and wretched on the worn, wooden floor. he knelt down and touched eddie's hand gently with his fingertips, as if his boyfriend could feel it. fat tears rolled down his cheeks as the reality hit him.
his boyfriend had died a horrible, painful, death.
bill rushed in, and he stopped dead in his tracks. then, he slowly approached the sobbing boy, as if he were an animal ready to attack.
"richie, none of this is real," he assured. richie snuffed, and tried not to get his hopes up.

"let's just keep moving," richie mumbled, numbly staring at the arm on the floor. so, the boys trudged out of the room, and back into the large foyer.
"maybe he's up there?" ben asked, gesturing to a large flight of stairs. and, as if on queue, a shriek-like sound echoed through the house.
"yeah," stan agreed.
so, slowly, the losers crept up the stairs, making sure not to step too heavily on the creaky parts. when they reached the second floor, they spread out again. richie and bill made sure to stick together, maybe because after seeing eddie's arm, there was some sort of strange, unbreakable bond tying them together. they managed to find themselves in a completely new wing of the house. the door that they had come through sealed shut silently.
"guys!" richie yelled, hoping to get the attention of the losers on the other side of the door. there was no reply.
"richie?" a voice called.
but it wasn't just any voice.
it was eddie kaspbrak.