Derry, Maine.
January 2nd, 2018.
Bill made his way tiredly up the steps to his small apartment. He checked his watch after he trudged inside: 3:03 AM.
'This is why you shouldn't have 12-hour shifts at a 24-hour restaurant,' Bill thought to himself.
He walked gingerly across the thin carpet, careful not to disturb a sleeping Eddie on the couch. Eds was waylaid to the couch because he was the only one that fit on it. He pushed open the bedroom door, a twin and queen-sized bed inside. He tried to quiet his breathing in here; poor Mike had to be up in two hours. Bill sat down on his side of the queen bed, unlacing his shoes. Richie lay behind him, snoring like a chainsaw. Bill finished undressing and climbed in to sleep. Georgie and Mom would be here in just six short hours; that meant he'd have to be awake at seven to clean up before they arrived. He let out a tired sigh, rolling to his right before falling into a deep sleep.
The morning went surprisingly well, despite Mike's alarm waking him up halfway through his measly four hours of sleep. He made breakfast for Eddie and Rich before they went to work, and cleaned his apartment in preparation for his family. Dishes, vacuuming, folding laundry, and cleaning the bathroom, all done within two hours. A knock on his door signaled their arrival, just past 9:10 A.M.
Bill opened the door, smiling wide, "H-hey... Georgie," he said, voice coming down some.
"Bill!" Georgie said, crashing into Bill, squeezing him in a tight embrace.
"Huh-hey, big man," Bill said through the hug. "I mi-missed you."
"Me too," Georgie said, eventually releasing Bill to walk inside and out of the bitter cold.
"Sorry it's s-s-s-so huh-hot in here," Bill said, walking into the kitchenette, "Eddie likes it sw-sw-sweltering."
"He might have a point, it's fucking freezing." Georgie Said, Bill still not used to his deep voice. He couldn't believe that he'd turn eighteen this year. Georgie had barely been 12 when Bill left. He'd grown a lot in the last five years, and Bill felt terrible for missing so much of his life.
"Want some coffee?" Bill asked.
"Yeah, that'd be great," Georgie said, still wearing his parka as he sat on the couch.
"Wuh-where's mom?" Bill asked, carefully measuring out beans to grind as water was heating on the stove.
"She couldn't make it," Georgie said quickly.
"O-oh. Did she suh-say why?"
"She wasn't feeling well."
Bill nodded, opting to focus on making coffee. He sat down next to Georgie on the couch a few minutes later, a steaming mug in each hand.
"Huh-here you g-g-go," Bill said, setting one down for his brother.
"Thanks," Georgie said, taking a sip. "Why are you looking at me like that?" Georgie asked with a laugh.
Bill continued with his sideways glare, "Take your puh-parka off, y-y-you goon!" Bill said.
Georgie stood up and went to hang his coat with a strange begrudgance.
Bill looked idly at a magazine as his brother sat back down, "So, huh-how's school go-"
Bill stopped, eyes settling on a haunting sight. His voice caught in his throat, trapped by shock. He staggered a breath in.
Bruises, deep and purple along both of Georgie's arms, and up to his neck.
"Georgie?" He asked quietly, "Are those fr-fr-from..."
YOU ARE READING
Wayward (Stenbrough)
أدب الهواة"What about you? You've been riding for awhile. What are you doing all the way out here?" "Th-that's a sss...secret," Bill said, smiling glumly. Stan made a point of looking to his left, and then to his right. "Well, you're in luck. There's so...
