❝ 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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ix. the temple
VERITY COULDN'T REMEMBER EXACTLY HOW she had gotten to the Townhouse, had no idea how she had managed to make her way through the streets of that god-forsaken town, but she had. At first she had taken off at a sprint, but as the adrenaline rush faded away she had been forced to slow to a jog, and finally, a limp. Her body hurt all over from the fall she had taken, and the scratches on her arm were still bleeding, scarlet blood seeping through the sleeve of her blouse. Her wild appearance earned her a good number of stares and whispered remarks from passerby, but she was too preoccupied to care; the events in her old home had shaken her deeply, and she feared that if she stopped moving, let her mind relax for even a second, it would hit her all at once.
Soon, the familiar brownstone figure of the townhouse came into view, and Verity began to walk faster, hissing in pain as she aggravated her ankle. It was probably sprained or worse, broken, and she couldn't help but laugh at the fact; things in Derry seemed to go from bad to worse. At last - after labouring up the stone steps, taking them one-by-one like a small child - she pushed open the hardwood doors of the boarding house, allowing the wave of exhaustion wash over her as she stepped over the threshold.
Beverly and Ben were already back, sitting together at the bottom of the stairs, and both looked up as Verity entered. "Jesus, Ver- are you okay?" Ben asked, taking in the woman's panicked state. "What happened?"
Verity only shook her head mutely, not meeting their eyes.
"Honey, it's okay, you can tell us," Bev said softly, resting a hand on her shoulder, then swiftly pulling it away as she spotted the blood. "God, you're bleeding! And your leg too, maybe..." she looked at Ben hopelessly. "Maybe Eddie can take a look at them when he's back."
The three of them turned around as the front doors opened behind them and Richie stormed in, shoulders hunched, mouth set in a hard line. He kept his eyes trained on the floor, muttering as he tried to push past them. "Move. Move,"
"Richie, what's wrong?" Bev questioned, her words falling on deaf ears.
"I'm leaving,"
Ben's mouth fell open as he gaped after him. "What? You can't leave, man. We split, we all die,"
"Yeah? I'll take my chances. We're gonna die anyway,"
"Rich... Come on, what is it?" Verity said shakily, beginning to follow him up the stairs. "I'll talk to him," she shrugged, giving the others a would-be smile, but it was more like a grimace. She made it up the stairs after him, trailing down the landing and to his room. The door lay open to reveal Richie crouched on the floor, stuffing clothes into his case and swearing under his breath. "Motherfucker," he huffed, slapping the case in frustration as it failed to close.
