Losers: Bill Denbrough x Reader

He's Not Here?

The room was too warm and the air seemed so thick. I couldn't breathe properly and the little air I could force into my lungs burned with the taste of blood and the smell of something damp and old. I tossed and turned, but there was no way to get comfortable. The sheets were damp and slimy against the little bit of skin I had exposed. Everything was too heavy, so I kicked off the sheets and blankets and sat up in bed.

Strands of hair were stuck to my face, from what I assumed might be sweat. My stomach churned and twisted and I could already feel the vomit rising up in the back of my throat. I forced myself out of bed and stumbled around blindly in the dark room until I found the door. I threw it open and was met with a gust of nice cool air. I took refreshing gulps of the air as I ran down the hall to the bathroom.

I flicked on the light not questioning why it was slippery and falling onto my knees in front off the toilet. I gagged as my stomach tried to force the nothing I ate for dinner back up. Tears streamed down my face and my legs felt like tv static. My head was throbbing and the room felt like it was spinning.

"Are you okay, (y/n)?" Someone asked from behind me, pulling my hair away from my face.

I didn't recognize them at first, but the realization hit me like a truck of bricks. My head whipped around and I came face to face with someone I never thought I'd see again...

"Georgie?..." I asked, turning around to face him.

"(Y/n), I missed you." He giggled, throwing his arms around me.

"I missed you too, little guy." I smiled, hugging him back.

"(Y/n), if you come with me, you'll float too!" He giggled again and suddenly I noticed something was off.

His lemon yellow raincoat was drenched and cold and there was something trickling down my arm. Something thick and warm. I felt his little hand grip the back of my sweatshirt as though he was scared of something.

"Georgie, are you okay?" I asked, my voice shaking, my eyes fixed on the floral wallpaper.

"(Y/n), I'm scared." He cried.

"Of what, Georgie?" As much as I wanted him to come back, I knew that this wasn't Georgie.

"I think you know." His voice was all distorted and my breath caught in my throat.

"You're not Georgie..." I looked down and saw the grimy grey fabric that that disgusting clown wore.

"Took ya long enough, didn't it...Little Tozier." I tried to push him away from me, and scrambled to my feet.

"Get the fuck away from me!" I screamed at him.

"No, I don't think I will. You see, we aren't quite finished yet." He laughed, his body crackling and popping as he forced himself up off the tiles.

"What do you want from me, you sick bitch!" I was trying not to let him know how scared I really was, but my heart was beating so loud I'm sure he heard it.

He rushed at me as I tried to open the door, but the bathroom was so small that he only had to take about three steps and his hand was around my throat.

"What do I want?" He laughed, drool dripping down his chin, "I want your tasty tasty fear."

"Holy shit." I whispered and the door fell open and I landed in a heap on the floor. The hallway was pitch black except for the light that flooded from the now empty bathroom.

"Maybe I do have a concussion." I sighed, stumbling back into the bathroom and flushing the toilet.

I turned on the sink and splashed my face with cold water. I wiped my eyes and glanced up at my reflection. Blood was smeared across my face and dripped from my fingers. I wiped my hands across my shirt, but no matter how much I tried, it wouldn't go away. I started panicking and it was like I couldn't get enough air. I broke down crying, wiping my face off on my sleeve.