A Twisted Story {An IT x Reader Insert}

Chapter 2

Third Person P.O.V.

Bill Denbrough, a tall, lanky, boy with light, straight hair and a stutter, was anxious to start looking for his younger brother and close friend. He wasn't looking forward to summer in the way normal thirteen year old boys were. He wanted nothing more then to find them. His remaining friends were supportive, obviously upset by the missing group member, and tried to be helpful, but they didn't want to go looking in dirty holes, they just wanted to have a normal summer. They were kids, and after all, no one returned. Bill wanted to hear her laugh at something stupid Richie said, hear Georgie squeal in delight at something new, he wanted things to go back to normal.

Bill emptied the contents of his bag into a trashcan with his friends. "Best feeling ever." The boy with light, curly, hair and a kippah said. His name is Stan. (Auto-correct trying to make his name Satan X~X) "Yeah? Try ticking you pickle for the first time." The boy with thick glasses, dark, curly hair, and some floral over shirt said. This is Richie. Everyone rolled their eyes at his comment. "What do you guys want to do tomorrow?" A short boy with dark, straight hair, and multiple fanny-packs asked. His name is Eddie. "I start my training." Richie replied. "Training?" Eddie asked. "Street Fighter." Richie said, determined to be the best, and be distracted. "Is that how you wanna spend your summer? Stuck in an arcade?" Eddie asked surprised. "Better then inside your mother." Richie said with a grin, holing his hand up for a high-five to Stan. '(Y/n) would have laughed.' Was all Richie could think.

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As Beverly sat in that bathroom, listening to Greta leave with her gang, she teared up. She missed (Y/n) so much. If (Y/n) were hear, she would have stopped Greta from dropping all that garbage on her, most likely through fist fighting. (Y/n) would tell her to chalk it up to a bad day, that tomorrow would be better, but without her, Beverly couldn't believe that any day would be good again. She buried her face in her hands, and let out small sobs.

(Y/n) P.O.V.

Everyday I walked these tunnels. I don't know how much time has passed, but I'm so hungry, and thirsty, and cold. I used my raincoat to stop the bleeding, and I worked enough to keep me alive, but I often had dizzy spells. Although I'm not sure if that is blood loss or hunger. I am pretty certain that It is making more tunnels, more obstacles, more ways to try and scare me. The thing is, my deepest fear is locked away in my brain. It's not that I'm fearless, it's that I know I can't let that control me, that fear keeps me away from fun. That's all I want in life, to have fun. Walking these tunnels, I often think of how I miss Beverly, and Stan, and Eddie, and Richie, and Bill, and Georgie. Questions plague my mind. What do they think happened to me? Do they think that I'm a goner? Who will laugh at Richie's jokes if I don't make it? Who will reassure Bill that everything will be okay? Or comfort Beverly when her day makes her feel like shit? Who will tell Eddie that his rants are cute and helpful? A red balloon floats past me, indicating that Pennywise is near.

I turn the corner to see the clown from Hell, with a sinister smile, and a red balloon. I blink and It has morphed into Georgie. "You wouldn't hurt me, right (Y/n/n)?" (Y/n/n). The cute little nickname Georgie had given me when I told him we called William Bill or Billy as a nickname. He asked if I had one, and when I told him no, he smiled and decided it was his job to give me one. It took him three days, but the name stuck. I almost hesitated, but I know it isn't real. "Try me bitch. I know you are just a dumbass clown. You're weak and useless, and have nothing better to do than taunt me." I know I struck a cord because It turns back into that creepy ass clown, and pouts. "Why don't you like me? We could be friends." I scoff. "Because you fucking eat kids, you stupid bitch." It's pout turns into a dark, sinister, look. Not even his smile sends this many chills down my spine. I don't do anything though, except clutch onto my blade. "I will feast on you. You will be afraid." And then It slips into the shadows. I know that in reality, what I say makes It feel afraid that It will starve, so It can't attack me, not yet anyway. I'm too tired to go any farther, so I lay on the filthy ground and sleep.