❝ the DAY you chose to LEAVE me
it RAINED constantly OUTSIDE
in TRUTH i SWORE the RAIN to be
the TEARS in CUPID's EYES ❞
[ bill denbrough x oc ] [ it 2019 ]
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in which, april ambrose gets a phone call from a childhood friend urging her to come bac...
APRIL AMBROSE HAD A PROBLEM. Quite a large, concerning problem at hand. She had taken on the task of cleaning out the storage room of the large house her and her husband had lived in for years. Dozens of unopened cardboard boxes littered the room, filled with memories and all other things they didn't care to open until now. April cared now. Simply because she could barely remember anything. Hardly anything at all.
It was an ongoing problem she had. She searched every single crevice in her brain for something, anything and still, she came out unsatisfied with her discoveries. All she ever really wanted was to remember who she was before this depression, this disease that infected her body and poisoned her from the inside out. To see the girl of sparkling eyes and joyous smiles her mother would reminisce about. She just wanted to see who she was before she became a shell of that girl.
Her hands are shaky as she pulls at a large cardboard box tucked into the corner of the room. She brings it to the centre of the room where she had managed to clear a spot for her to sit on the floor and comfortably search the boxes for answers. On the side of the box, written in black sharpied words read, 'Derry, Maine. 1975-1993' . Her boxes were vastly more specific than Nolan's, she had organized them greatly while Nolan had tossed things in without a care. She knew for a fact that this box in specific would be the box with the highest chance of giving her the answers she so desperately wanted.
She grew up in a small town. That's the most she could remember about it. That it was small, suffocating almost. Looking back to what she vaguely remembers about it made her sick at the thought that that town was her entire world for the beginning of her life.
It's funny, you see. She had only spent seventeen years of her life there and yet since leaving, she swore she was stuck, stunted, unable to grow because she was still there. Stuck, begging to be set free. She wasn't exactly aware of what made her feel so unchanging, so lost in the body of a grown woman. The depression she had found mind infected with at the age of eighteen, eating at her for the past twenty-two years.
She's sat crosslegged on the floor in front of it, her wrinkled pale yellow button down bunched up at her thighs. Her hands reaching for the cover and lifting it up, revealing the contents inside it. It was filled to the brim and she could barely tell what was in it beside from the jewelry box at the very top.
Her heart races at the sight, bottom lip pulled beneath the top — gnawing on it nervously as her shaky hands grab at the pale pink jewelry box. She runs her hand along the top, lifting the white handle and dusting off the dust which lived within the crevice. On the side, it read Caboodles in gold cursive. For some strange reason, she was able to remember that she had received this for Christmas when she was around thirteen. After pestering her parents for months and months, begging for one. God, wouldn't it be nice if she could remember everything as easily as that.
