Lover: Bill Denbrough x Reader (Sequel to Losers: Bill Denbrough x Reader)

The Bright Side

I practically ran the entire way back to the townhouse. I needed to be alone for right a while, so I was going to lock myself in my room until I could calm down enough to be a properly functioning human being.

The clown has pulled a lot of shit, but for the most part, it was all for scares. He did say that he survived off of fear, so that makes perfect sense. But why flip the script now when he should be coming down the hardest? I wasn't even close to scared.

Unless, that wasn't his intention...

But what else was he trying to tell me? It didn't make any sense at all. But then again, nothing about this town has ever made much sense. And yet, I couldn't help but wonder...

I pushed open the door and Ben and Bev were sat on the stairs.

Just great...

I know as soon as Bev sees the blood that she's gonna want to talk to me about it. I appreciate the gesture, but the only thing I want to do at this very moment is to stop existing all together. My stomach ached, my head was pounding, and I had finally run out of tears to cry. This is the furthest thing from what I imagined this little trip back home would be like. 

"(Y/n), oh my God, are you okay?" Beverly asked, quickly getting to her feet.

What did I tell you?...

"I'm fine." I shook my head and tried to step around her.

"Are you sure? You look pretty shaken up." Ben said giving me a genuine look of concern. It was one that I would have found familiar on Bill's face, but somehow not on Ben's.

"Well, I'd like to think that having a killer clown single you out while you're hunting for a token to use in a ritual to kill him is a good reason to be shaken up." I snapped and headed upstairs, not wanting to continue on the conversation anymore. 

I snatched my keycard out of my pocket and hurried inside my room. It was dark, cold, and the best part, void of any living thing but me and maybe a few roaches in the bathroom. I pulled my shirt off and threw it on the floor, the thick slimy consistency of the mystery blood was starting to make me nauseous. I fell back onto the bed and let my eyes close for a moment. 

I rested my hand on my stomach and something felt off. I opened my eyes and peered down for a moment and saw a raised scar cutting across my stomach, just above the waistline of my jeans. It was jagged and uneven, like it had been hastily put back together by someone who had no idea what they were doing. I blinked a few times and it was gone. Why would I have a fucked up C-Section scar?

Wow, I'm so scared, I thought to myself, the amount of sarcasm almost lethal.

I can't have kids, you dickwad. All of this baby imagery doesn't scare me. Get your act together.

First, the false labor pains. Then, the little baby girl. Now a caesarian scar. What kind of crack is this clown smoking?

I shook my head and closed my eyes yet again. Maybe I could take a little nap before anyone else got back from their little scavenger hunt. I think after everything I've been through in the past twenty four hours that I deserved a little nap, as I treat.

I was just started to doze off when I heard the door open.

"Bill, please leave me alone. I need some time to myself for right now." I mumbled without even opening my eyes. 

The door shut and I relaxed for a moment. That is until a heavy hand, much larger than Bill's came to rest on my bare stomach.

My eyes shot open and what stood before me was a man I feared even more than my father during that haunting summer.