Wrong

•29•

⚠ Attempted rape, drugs, talk about abuse ⚠

•°• The next day •°•

*Richie's POV*

"Riiiiiiiichie!" Bev called out, pounding on my front door. "Open the door, dude!"

"Whaaaaaaat?" I groaned and unlocked the chain. "It's like, 3 am."

"What? Richie, it's almost noon."

I looked over the clock on the stove. 11:58.

"Shit, sorry Bev," I said, rubbing my eyes. "I shouldn't have been rude. Today's just...an off day."

Bev looked at me sympatheticly. Today's my dad's birthday, so it's pretty touchy. I only told Bev about it, I just felt safest with her when I knew I needed to tell someone.

Eddie left a little while ago to go work with Stan for the wedding plans. Even though Stan hasn't actually proposed yet, everyone knows Bill will say yes.

"Anywayyysss, I brought weed." Bev explained quietly and pulled a plastic baggie out of her purse.

Inside were dozens of joints and cigarettes. I sighed and smiled at her. Bev always knew how to cheer me up.

I grabbed the bag from her and fell down on the couch. Quickly taking a joint out, I searched for my lighter for a minute before Bev handed me hers.

I took a deep breath of the smoke once it was lit. It was calming, even though I knew it wasn't the healthiest habit...

Bev sat down next to me and reached into the bag. I lit the marijuana for her and she took a long drag of it before blowing it back in my face.

I coughed and laughed, pushing her slightly. She moved over so her head was in my lap and her legs hung over the arm of the couch. I leaned back and ran my fingers through her hair.

If anyone besides the Losers saw us, they would've thought we were dating. But we're just the closest friends of the group. We would get high (or occasionally drunk) and tell all of our secrets.

I love Beverly, but it's a platonic love. She feels the same way. We can confide in each other knowing that whatever tomorrow brings, we'll be safe with each other.

Also, it's nice to have a drug buddie.

"So," Bev said and took another breath from her joint. "What's up?"

"The sky," I laughed, resulting in a soft slap across my cheek. "Nah, I'm just thinking...it's Father's birthday, you know that."

I stopped and started breathing in the toxins from the weed again. It felt natural to be doing this, just relaxing and smoking with Bev.

"I hate him so much." I growled and put the joint back against my lips.

"Rich," Bev started and looked up at me. "What's the big deal? I mean, I know he neglected you. But so did your mom and you're not nearly as angered by her."

Right. I forgot. The Losers don't know about Father hurting me physically or Mother making me smoke with her. Great.

But what's the big deal? Bev's dad did stuff to her, she's not going to judge. And we both agreed that whatever is said here, stays here.

I inhaled more smoke, hoping it would calm my nerves enough so that I could tell her.

"He hurt me. Physically, I mean. And my mom made me start smoking and drinking with her when I was 13. She didn't care if Father hurt me."

"What?" Bev asked, moving from her spot on my lap. I looked up at the ceiling and kept smoking the joint.

"He would hit me, punch me, kick me, pretty much anything and everything. Sometimes my mom would come over just to watch."