❝ 𝘪𝘧 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘪'𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴
𝘪 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 ❞
or in which verity summers returns to derry after twenty-seven years, and finds that nothing is the same
[it chapt...
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iv. the townhouse
THE THREE OF THEM BURST THROUGH the doors of the Derry Townhouse, sliding on the ornately tiled floor in their haste.
"Let's get our shit and get the fuck out of here," Richie called, giving Verity a quick hug before urging her upstairs. "You guys can come in my car, yeah? Fuck what we drank, we're leaving,"
"Wait," she paused, leaning on the banister wearily, "The car I rented-"
"Screw it!"
"Did you leave your stuff here?" Eddie glanced back as Ben came in behind them.
The taller man shook his head, watching as Beverly rushed towards the mini bar. "No, my stuff is in the car,"
Verity huffed out a breath, blowing the hair out of her eyes. "Why is it always us? Why can't a new group of kids deal with the damn clown?" she asked, the three of them reaching the carpeted landing.
"I don't know, Ver," Eddie sighed, giving her a shrug before heading to his room, his thin shoulders sagging as he walked.
Richie followed her to her room, swinging her suitcase onto the bedspread. "Make sure you get everything, I don't wanna have to come back here," he said grimly.
With a curt nod, Verity flew around the room like a whirlwind, making sure she had everything, not wanting to spend one more minute in that lousy town. She grabbed the book off her nightstand, tossing it into the case as Richie flung the wardrobe open - checking for any stray items of clothing - then went to the small bathroom, grabbing her toiletry bag and makeup with shaking hands. She put her camera back in its case, handling it tenderly, in great contrast to the other things she'd packed up. One last check under the bed and then she was zipping her case closed, hurrying out as Richie sped ahead of her.
"Eduardo, Veritas, andalé, let's go!" he shouted, voice bouncing off the wood-paneled walls.
She took the steps two at a time, almost twisting her ankle in the process, desperate to escape before the rest of the memories came back; she had only just started to remember, but had a sickening feeling that the worse ones were approaching fast.
The bullying, the isolation she had faced in school, the countless days where she had wandered the town alone, her camera a defense mechanism against the crippling loneliness she felt. She couldn't quite remember the clown, though. Those memories were fuzzier, and each time one surfaced it would disappear again, sinking into blackness once more. She did remember the fear, as well as the strong sense of determination that had driven her to fight It.
