Bill Skarsgård One Shots

Bill: The Devil's Angel

Bill, a mysterious prisoner with 'supernatural' abilities finally meets his angel.

CASTLE ROCK- INSPIRED, BILL X OFC

The cold air nips harshly at my nose, however, my body is warm due to the heat the blanket provided. I sigh as I eye the raindrops racing down the window, looking out into the dark neighbourhood, waiting for my father to come home.

It wasn't late in the evening at all, but the winter had sent the sky into darkness prematurely. I liked the winter, I just didn't like the uncertainty of it. Some days were colder, some days were warmer. I was never a fan of not knowing what came next; it would make my anxiety spiral out of control. My dad always laughed at me for it; the fact that I always wanted to know everything.

The sound of an engine could be heard from down the street, making me lean forward to get a better look at the outside. Two bright lights were coming up my driveway and I released a breath, feeling a lot better knowing that my dad was home.

I discarded the blanket and made my way to the door, gripping the edge of my sleeves. I was quicker than my dad, opening the front door as soon as I heard his keys. His eyes widened in surprise, not expecting my presence, but a warm smile soon replaced his shock.

"Honey, were you waiting for me?" He asked, closing the door behind him. I nodded shyly, feeling stupid for not doing something better with my time. My father only laughed though, hugging me in the process.

"Gosh, you worry too much." He stated.

"Sorry for caring." I teased.

I follow my father into the kitchen, opening up a drawer and grabbing out the cutlery for dinner. "I have to tell you about this boy I met today," he says as he opens the oven. "He's young- about 23, and has been in prison for only a few months."

I place the plates on the table, nodding along to my dad. "What's he in for?"

"See that's the thing, he hasn't done anything particularly." He explains, scratching the stubble around his chin. "There have been numerous unknown deaths in the past few months, The Kid's been linked to each person."

"But there's no proof?" I ask. "How can he be in prison then?"

My father pats my head lightly, laughing at my inquisitiveness. "One question at a time, petal." He teases, "Each death has been mysterious, no one knows how these people died... The Kid just happened to be linked to it all, I guess."

"Are you saying he could be innocent?"

"Maybe. I don't know too much about it, petal. I'm only there to do my services."

I smile brightly at my father. Pride warms my body as I look at the kind-hearted man. My father loved to help out as much as he could, so when the opportunity came for him to read bible passages to prisoners, he was elated by the offer. After his office job, my father would drive to Shawshank and speak to the prisoners about God, not once judging their character.

"I'm proud of you, Dad."

"Thank you." He replies, smiling back at me. "However, I do need some help. The Kid is quite young, he doesn't take old dogs like me too seriously." He chuckles, as he cuts into his roast. "I was wondering if you could maybe write him a letter... you know, make him feel less alone considering everyone is quite old at Shawshank."

"Like a pen-pal?"

"Yeah, I guess you could call it that." He replied. "I don't want him to be isolated. He's very quiet so I think some communication is good... Maybe I'll bring you in to meet him one day... when I know it's safe." He added.