Splendor//Bill Denbrough

E i g h t

Silver is the most admirable thing in Bill's life. One could argue that it should be his wife and children, but he will adamantly state that they are people. Silver is by far the greatest thing in his life.

The weird thing is, he forgot that she existed until now.

Back in the day, Silver was practically an honorary member of the Losers Club. Bill rode her daily, despite her being an old "clunker" that was ten sizes too big for him. Silver was his respite, his escape from daily burdens- his parents, his guilt, his stutter. Bill would simply shout, "Hi-ho, Silver! Away!" while flying down to road, way too fast for others' comfort. And just like that, his troubles would melt like fondue.

She was his companion for a faithful nine years. But then he had to sell her before college. It certainly was the end of an era.

And now, years later, here she is in a secondhand shop window. She's just as lovely as she had been when Bill was nine. He hurries into the shop and dishes out fifty dollars for his love.

"Hi-ho, Silver! Awayyy!" Bill exclaims as he jumps on Silver once again, zipping through town.

Nothing about the bicycle is unfamiliar. The cool metal of the handlebars, the light pressure on the pedals, the rock hard seat. Unlike when he was young, the bike fit perfectly with Bill's long, gangly legs.

Bill is having the time of his life, riding through town without a care, until he reaches his old neighborhood. It's his subconscious that takes him there, not free will. He rides his bike down Witcham Street, and skids to a stop when he hears a small voice.

"Billy?"

His eyes grow wide and hopeful. Could it really be-?

"G-Georgie?"

"Help me! We're all alone down here, and it's so dark!"

Silver clatters to the ground and Bill crouches down to the gutter, the same gutter where Georgie lost his life.

"Oh m-m-my god," he mutters.

Not only is Georgie in there (with a bloody stump instead of an arm), but so is his boys. Dirt is smeared all over their faces. A look of sheer terror is on Atticus' face because, well, Jeremy is holding his own severed hand and gasping for breath.

"J-Jer?" he whispers, reaching out to the three of them. His heart is breaking and filling with hate for himself.

You fucking bastard you don't deserve to live anymore how could you do this what the hell is wrong with you this is all your fault you stupid fuck what is your wife going to think you killed your brother and your boys and you're going to kill her soon why don't you just-

"Um, Sir? What are you doing down there in the sewer drain?"

Bill turns around to see a boy with a skateboard, no older than the twins. He looks back in the drain. It's completely empty, except for the rank water dripping down the side. It was that god-awful clown.

"I-I... I g-guess I th-th-thought someone was duh-duh-down there."

"Why would you think that?" the kid asks, seeming genuinely curious and just a tiny bit nervous.

"Um... n-no reason."

"Did you hear the voices too?"

"You h-h-hear voices?" Bill is incredulous.

He nods solemnly, making Bill's stomach drop like he's on a roller coaster.

"Sometimes when I'm home alone. In the kitchen or the bathroom or near the sewers."

Bill grabs his shoulders. "Puh-please stay s-s-safe, kid."

"Okay?"

"I muh-mean it. Go to a fr-friend or rel-relative's o-o-out of town," he begs.

The boy was puzzled and a little frightened. Though he's never seen this strange man before, he can't help but trust him.

"Alright..." he answers shakily, skating off. Bill sighs, thinking of Atticus, who also loved to skateboard.

"Loves," Bill tells himself as he climbs back on Silver. "H-he's out there somewhere. They b-b-both are. A-and it's n-n-not here."

He spends a couple hours touring downtown on his precious Silver, trying to scope out any memories. Eventually, he remembers the Barrens and their clubhouse, and feels he should pay a visit there.

He pedals out of the city and through the tall, browning grass. Little snapshots begin to form in his mind.

Wisps of blonde hair sprinkled in Bill's face, but he pedaled Silver gallantly. He was taking Carn to the clubhouse, a place where the Losers hadn't been since summer. There they could talk and kiss and study without being interrupted. The two weren't dating, but they did spend an awful lot of time making out...

He dug even deeper into his mind to the middle school years.

The pre-pubescent Losers, sans Carnation, were sitting in a circle, more or less. They're laughing at something or other, probably one of Richie's stupid Voices. Bill steals a slightly longing glance at beautiful Beverly, who was being enticed by sweet little Ben.

"Earth to Bill?" Eddie waved a hand in front of his face.

"What?" he popped out of his own world.

"Are you going to tell us about this ritual shit or not?" Richie asked, pushing his glasses farther up his nose.

"Oh, y-yeah," he turned pink. "It's c-c-called the ruh-ritual of-"

"Chüd," Bill gasps, letting it hit him like a ton of bricks. It was the most twisted and psychedelic situation in his life. He can think of the general idea of it, but cannot remember any details or how to carry it out, step by step.

He rides Silver a little while longer while straining his memory to that fateful day in 1989, but a heavy sobbing distracts him.

Lying on the grass, not twenty feet away from him, is his wife. She's hysterical and her face and clothes are matted with blood. The sun doesn't reflect on the wounds, but only puts more harsh light on them, making them look even uglier.

There's a possibility that it couldn't be her, but Bill won't take the risk of leaving his lovely Carn to her own devices. Dropping Silver, he runs to her wordlessly and takes her into his arms. She's limp, but manages to firmly embrace him back.

"Wh-what happened t-to y-y-you?" he strokes her back ever so gently and can feel her shake her head.

"Doesn't matter."

He doesn't interrogate her. He doesn't even ask what she was doing in the middle of the Barrens. He only holds her for God knows how long, and that is more than enough for them.