Wrong

•20•

⚠ Non-consensual touching, talk about self harm and abuse ⚠

*Eddie's POV*

"I'm about to beat the shit out of him." Bev said and I froze. I shouldn't have told them. It doesn't matter that they support me, what matters is that they hate Dan now.

They're gonna go back to his house. And he's gonna get mad at me for telling. He'll hurt me again, I just know it.

Richie noticed that I started freaking out and handed me my inhaler. I grabbed it quickly, and breathed in more of the medicine.

"Sorry," Bev whispered. "I just hate him so much for what he did."

"Eddie, why didn't you tell us?" Bill asked.

I knew this was coming. The disappointment that I couldn't tell them, that I couldn't defend myself. They think I'm weak now.

"I get it," Bev said quietly. "You feel...helpless. And you can't tell anyone. It's ok Eddie, we don't think any less of you." It's like she's reading my mind.

I smiled at her, finally looking up at the Losers. They weren't angry, just... sad.

I suddenly got really light headed. It's probably just a side effect of the medicine, I'm fine. But I definitely need to sit down.

I moved to the couch, quickly falling down on it. Ben came over and sat down next to me. He pulled me in another hug.

"We're here for you Eddie, always."

I smiled weakly at him, all of my energy quickly dwindling down. When Ben moved away from the hug, everyone either gasped or yelled.

"What?" Ben asked in confusion. "What's going on?"

Richie and Stan shot each other concerned looks, and I got really scared. I finally forced myself to look at Ben.

The bottom part of his shirt was soaked in blood. I looked down at my black shirt, spotting the soft glisten against the fabric. The cuts opened again...

Richie grabbed my hand and led me to the bathroom while Stan started telling the other what was going on.

Tears pricked my eyes, but I tried to will them not to fall.

"Eds, I gotta see your stomach..." Richie said quietly. I whimpered and covered my stomach with my arms.

"N-no, please d-don't," I sniffled. "I don't w-want you to h-have t-to see it again..."

"Eddie, I promise I'm not gonna judge you. I just wanna make sure you're ok."

Nodding hesitantly, I lifted up my shirt. Richie gasped sharply and started cleaning off the cuts with a towel.

I finally willed myself to look down. Blood was quickly dribbling down my stomach and sides. The cigarette and cigar burns were more prominent than ever, they'd turned a dark brownish-red color.

But what really caught my attention was Richie. He was being so gentle and he was cleaning my cuts with such concentration, as if he could make something worse. But he could never do that. He only makes things better.

Someone walked into the bathroom and I flinched. I didn't want anyone besides Richie to see my cuts.

"It's ok Eds, it's just Stan," Richie said and kept cleaning out the wounds.

"Hey Eddie, you ok?"

"Yeah, the cuts just reopened."

"Oh, so Richie told you he knows you cut yourself?"