dead in the water ( IT CH:2 ) DISCONTINUED

v. the past still haunts us, part one

( WARNING:
mentions of a panic attack. cursing, lots of it. if any of these things trigger you, please do not read on. your health is more important that this book. )

FIVE

Hannah trudged her way through Main Street, her heart pounding in her ears as the bridge that lead to the driveway of her childhood home came into view. She crossed it reluctantly, resisting the urge to turn and run when the familiar dirt pathway came into view; she had somewhat made her peace with the house when she had first arrived back in Derry, when she hadn't really known what she was getting herself into. Now, with the knowledge that IT was haunting and hunting all of them once again, the thought of going into that house seemed akin to signing a death sentence.

The keys felt heavy in her pocket; the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end when the run down house came into view and she forced herself to take the keys in her hand and unlock and push open the door. The inside of the house was exactly as she had found it the last time she'd been there: dusty and abandoned, decades-old glass bottles and cans lined every piece of furniture that hadn't rotted away.

Hannah took a deep breath, every nerve in her body on high alert, her veins pumping adrenaline as she began climbing the rickety stairs, already expecting the worst. She slowly made her way to her childhood room, pushing the door aside and freezing in the doorway, shock taking over her body momentarily; she would've thought that her parents would tear her room down and throw everything out when she had moved in with the Johnston's, but everything was exactly the same. Her bedspread, her desk, her bookshelf with her small collection of long-overdue library books.

With shaky hands, Hannah sank to her knees, lifting up the dusty duvet to reveal an old shoebox, dirty and worn with time. Her heart jumped and a small spark of hope ignited in her stomach—God only knew how her parents hadn't found the box, and she was glad they hadn't.

Sitting back on her heels, she pulled the box onto her lap, gently removing the lid, her heart swelling as she took in the selection of childhood memories she had stored inside once upon a time; there were polaroids of her and Levi at birthdays and Christmas plays and first days of school, all of them taken by Mrs. Johnston. There were movie ticket stubs, a couple of drawings Bill had given her, notes she and the rest of the Losers had passed back and forth in class.

At the bottom of the pile, Hannah found a folded piece of paper, the margins full of little doodles and eraser marks. The top right of the paper read 'September 2nd, 1989' and below it was Beverly's name, written in her familiar, slanted handwriting. She slowly unfolded it, her heart fluttering when she realized exactly what it was—Bev's first letter to her, sent directly from Portland. A warm feeling spread through Hannah's chest, her fingers tracing Beverly's written words.

Hannah quietly laid her bike against the porch, tightening her grip on the straps of backpack as she moved to peer through the window, her shoulders relaxing when she saw her parents both passed out in the living room. Slowly, she picked the lock on the front door, quickly stopping down to sift through the neglected mail, stopping in her tracks when she found an envelope that, on the very bottom corner, 'From Bev, with love'.

Her heart felt like it had jump-started as she quickly shoved the letter into her backpack, sandwiched between her history book and a notebook, before she nudged the front door open and booked it to her room, locking her bedroom door behind her and emptying her backpack on her bed, anxiously grabbing the envelope and tearing the top open, unfolding the piece of white paper that she found inside.

The letter was long, detailing everything that Bev had seen so far in Portland; a small selfish part of Hannah recoiled as she read all about Beverly's new friends, wishing that the redhead had stayed in Derry with her and the Losers. The more rational part of her was overwhelmingly happy for the Marsh girl.

"Nothing feels right without all of you, though. Hopefully I can come back during Christmas break, or next summer. I miss you always" read the end of the letter, followed by, "With love, Your Bev." Below the signature, there was a bright red kiss mark; this made Hannah's heart flutter, her fingers ghosting over the mark before she brought it up to her own lips and kissed it, her face burning as she rushed to her desk to begin writing her reply.

The sound of creaking snapped her out of her thoughts, her fingers ghosting over the faded red lipstick mark before she quickly pocketed the letter, turning her head to look over her shoulder, eyes wide and veins pumping another dose of adrenaline through her body. The creaking grew louder and louder until, all of a sudden, a hand placed itself on Hannah's shoulder, causing her to finally react and scramble to her feet, turning only to come face-to-face with her mother.

"What the hell are you doing here, kid?" Mrs. Jameson spat, causing Hannah to stumble backwards. Her brows furrowed confusion filling her body when she looked around, no longer seeing vines and rotting wood covering the walls. Instead, she saw wallpaper and her freshly washed duvet; somewhere downstairs, the TV was playing on a random station.

"I-I don't—I," Hannah stammered, her breath hitching when her mother's hand wrapped around her throat, trapping Hannah's chin between her middle and index finger and forcing her daughter to look at her.

"I-I, uh, um," She mocked, rolling her eyes when Hannah only continued to stare at her, the adrenaline being almost entirely replaced by pure, unadulterated fear. "You can't even speak right. How the fuck were we expecting you to cook dinner?"

Hannah swallowed thickly, trying to will herself to speak, but nothing came out. She only continued to stare, her hands beginning to tremble at her sides as a dark look fell over her mother's face.

"Nothing to fucking say for yourself, huh? I think a little time in the Room will teach you some discipline and respect for your elders, don't you agree?"

Before Hannah could speak or fight back, her mother was dragging her away by the collar of her shirt, out of her bedroom and down the hall until she reached the small closet; Hannah's chest immediately began constricting, her thoughts going at the speed of light as her mother pushed her inside, locking the door and walking away. If the space had been tight and small when she had been thirteen, it was even tighter and smaller now that she was forty-one; she couldn't move at all and her breaths were beginning to become short pants as she pressed her hands to the walls and—holy shit, she realized, her eyes widening, the walls were moving.

"No, no, no." Hannah's throat felt like it was closing up, but she still forced herself to scream, wanting nothing more than to be let out. "Help! Please, help!" The walls kept closing in, making the space smaller and smaller, and Hannah felt like she would be crushed between the two walls. "Help!"

"Oh, they can't hear you, Hannie." Pennywise. It's voice made Hannah's heart stop for a few short seconds, her breath lodging in her throat as her eyes widened. Suddenly, she spurred into action once again, this time more desperate as she began banging and kicking the door. "No one can help you. You're all alone."

"No, stop it! Let me out!" Hannah screamed, feeling the walls press against the sides of her shoulders. "You're not real! It's not real!"

"Poor little Hannie,"  Pennywise continued its taunts, ghastly giggles mixing with poisonous words. "Bevvy isn't here to save you. And Levi won't care if you're gone, she's better off without you."

"It's not real! It's not real! Stop it!" Hannah's screams we're slowly morphing into sobs, her hands and feet becoming sore the more she punched and banged and kicked. "Stop it! It's not real!" Suddenly, with one last kick and just before the walls pinned her arms down, the door gave way, sending Hannah sprawling to the dusty floor of her childhood home.

She spared no time, picking herself up and bolting down the stairs, not stopping until she was standing in the middle of Main Street, surrounded by the hustle and bustle of everyday Derry life. She took deep breaths, wiping away her tears and wrapping her arms around herself before starting her walk toward the library, not once looking back.

( AUTHOR'S NOTE )
anddd pennybitch is back