NINE CHANCES | REDDIE

- A R R I V A L

Ο Ο Ο

PRELUDE:

REVIVAL

- by Vancouver Sleep Clinic, 2017

It was significantly colder than Richie had expected it to be when he first stepped foot into the Godforsaken town of Derry, Maine. It was supposed to be summer, he reminded himself. There was no such thing as cold summers in America. And yet, Maine was definitely colder than the California weather he had grown accustomed to over the years.

Part of him was begging to turn around and get right back into the taxi, onto the plane, fly home, and forget all over again as soon as the realization hit him that he was actually in Derry. The place where his entire life had nearly fallen apart, simply because—

Why? Why had his life nearly fallen to pieces? Obviously It had something to do with it. The name caused his breath to hitch, his heart to pound, and his palms to sweat. He swallowed the growing lump in his throat as his taxi driver placed his bags on the sidewalk beside him. He thanked the man politely and took his luggage, paying the correct amount with a small tip and turning to face the Derry townhouse. Cold dread had been weighing his stomach down ever since he got Mike Hanlon's call, and with good reason, although he couldn't remember much about what that reason was.

Taking a deep breath, the man started up the worn down concrete path and hauled his suitcase up the wooden steps to the old complex, entering the air-conditioned building and even daring to shiver. He felt like everyone was staring at him, but there was only one person in the room, and he was waiting for Richie to check in. Anxious and discombobulated by the weight of being in the place he had hoped never to return to, Richie hurried up to the front counter and let out a long puff of breath, cheeks inflating as he did so.

"Just a room for one, please," he requested, digging his wallet out of his back pocket. His eyes scanned the picture of his mother quickly before he pulled out a wad of cash, hoping against hope that he had enough for what he, again, hoped, would be an extremely quick stay.

"It's $12.50 a night, sir," the man said, pulling a key off of one of the hooks on the back wall. Richie was admittedly unsurprised to see that almost none of the rooms were occupied. Derry had never been a big tourist spot. Too gloomy. Not usually weather-wise, but certainly emotionally. Nothing ever felt right, to say the least. Richie handed over two $20's and grabbed his bag, insisting he could do it himself as he took the key from the man and headed towards the stairs.

It wasn't a long climb, seeing as he was only on the second floor, but the hallway felt unbelievably long. He knew he was getting there earlier than he really had to— Mike had called just the previous night— but he felt a strange sense of urgency, like something, or someone was waiting for him.

Eddie.

The rush had hit him the moment the name tumbled from Mike's mouth. Richie had packed his bags faster than he had on his way out of this hell, which he was beginning to regret as a wave of exhaustion hit him and he missed the keyhole on his door for the third time. His head fell forward to rest against the wooden frame, and he took a deep breath, before trying one more time and finally succeeding.

He threw the door opened and kicked his shoes off, allowing it to swing shut behind him. He untucked his shirt, unbuttoning it and tossing it into the corner as he threw his suitcase into the corner. Doubts and anxious thoughts swarmed him like moths around a light when it was dark, so he busied himself with unpacking, a strange desire to keep himself moving hitting him like a brick.