They all stood in a bold circle, staring at eachother with somewhat pride and deep anguish at the same time. Each young teens eyes were scarred, scarred with such horror is unimaginable to almost anyone. Bill is the one to break the silence this time, break the shaken-up stares between the Losers Club.
"P-pruh-pruh-promise it." he said, scanning each Loser with dignity.
"Promise what, Big Bill?"
Richie's voice seemed to float in the summer breeze, float, like a... balloon. Bill reached to the floor, scooping up a shard from one of those new glass Coke bottles.
"P-pruh-promise if It comes b-bah-back, we c-cuh-come back too."
The Losers each looked up with some sort of newfound feeling. Bill bit his lip and scrunched up his face in mild pain, as he slit his palm with the shard of Coke glass
"A blood oath." Beverly whispered in a hushed voice. She made eye contact with Bills pained expression and her face hardened.
"I promise. Holy shit I promise with my heart."
Bill slit her palms, gently, if you could even slit someone palm with affection.
"Fuck it," It was Richie's voice this time. "Go on Big Bill, go slit my palms. I promise. And so do all the other crappy-ass voices, I have."
And on by one, each Loser got his palm slit, drew the deep crimson of blood each individual knew far too well. And as the thick, spittle of death dribbled from each of their palms they conjoined hands. Each Losers blood mixed with the other. Family. Family by pain and family by oath.
A promise.
YOU ARE READING
Sweetspot - Reddie
Conto"The moment he tried to tell himself he wasn't in love with him, was the moment he realised he was." TW: • homophobia • internalised homophobia • absent parent • injury detail • slut shaming
