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It seemed like no matter how long I laid wide-awake in my bed where I was swallowed whole by my blankets and pillows, I still couldn't get comfortable enough to sleep. Instead, I just found myself staring at my wall as my most intrusive thoughts seemingly swirled around inside my head in a tornado-esque whirlwind of bullshit. 
Why can't I think of anything that isn't stupid or shitty whenever I can't sleep? Why can't I ever just think of something smart or something that doesn't make me feel like garbage?
 I curled up around the pillow I held so close against my chest and gave it a squeeze. I shut my eyes tightly as my foggy brain did its honest best to figure out what time it was without forcing me to roll over and check the clock on my nightstand. But eventually I ended up rolling over for the billionth time anyway, so it seemed stupid to try. Frustrated, I kicked my blankets off of my body and rolled onto my stomach. Burying my face into the now warm side of my pillow, I let out a miserable grumble before I turned my head so that oxygen could continue making its way into my lungs and hooked my arms together underneath my pillow for extra head support. I drew my dry tongue over my even dryer lips as my eyes automatically flickered up to my alarm clock. Mentally, I read out 'Sunday' along with today's date and '1:42 p.m.' I guess I was just too internally wired to get any sort of solid sleep tonight, even though I was seriously tired externally from practically never getting any solid sleep during any other night. I guess it could be called insomnia, but I only really ever thought of it as 'annoying.' Sometimes, I could swear up and down that those blocky numbers could make just about anybody itch to see them change. Or maybe that was just the constant exhaustion that made me itch so much? Or maybe I was just like that? Was it weird that I wanted to see them change? Maybe it was just a personal thing—or something that pokes and prods you ever so slightly? I don’t know. As the numbers changed to 11:58, I fell deeper into the fog of my thoughtful haze. After finally tearing my eyes off of the clock, I buried my face into the pillow and covered my ears with the sides of it. Releasing a frustrated groan, I squeezed my eyes shut as tight as I could manage and inwardly screamed. Now was not the time to think, now was the time to pass the fuck out. And I couldn't even do that.  After briefly considering going to take some more NyQuil and maybe a few extra melatonin tabs, I fell into the feeling of floating as exhaustion finally began to cloud my senses and my head, leaving me almost dizzy on the inside... 
Tap, tap, tap,
 I could’ve sworn I was almost dead asleep by the time my ear twitched at a familiar sound of tapping on my window. That little bit of noise having been enough to wake my body back up—but not my brain. My brain was still dizzy because I was still drugged up from the heavy dosages that maybe weren't the greatest good ideas out there to go through with. Weak and sleepy, I discarded the noise and set to trying to quiet my body back down again.  And as the quiet quickly settled again, more tapping came to fruition—to bug me and eventually force me out of bed. 
Tap, tap, tap,
 It had gotten louder, more aggressive. Someone really wanted to be let in—or maybe the tree was angry that I hadn't gotten up to check on it. That'd be a riot. 
Tap, tap, tap,
 My eyes finally cracked open and my vision was still blurry from exhaustion. Part of me actually started to hope that none of the guys would be visiting at this hour and that it was just that one branch from that one big oak tree on my front lawn. 
Tap, tap, tap,

Tap, tap, tap, tap,
 
Tap. Tap. Tap.
 Autopilot kicked in and sent my internal machine whirring to life. I moved my arms and set a hand down on the mattress to push myself upright. The bleariness of my vision quickly lost meaning as I swung my legs over my bed and scooted off of it. As my feet touch the wooden floor below, it only barely registers in my head but I don't have any energy to react. The tapping was rather aggressive now, and I was pretty damn sure that the window was going to crack if I allowed it to go on any longer. I stumbled at first when I stood and started to walk over to my window. My bones cracked and shifted as I moved, and my feet cracked at every other step. Nothing was ready to work. Nothing . I rubbed my eyes at the last second and almost fell against my window. After just barely catching myself on it, I brushed the curtains aside. The tapping abruptly stops as the light from the streetlights outside assaulted my face full-on. I squinted to see what I was doing. And so, with a swift and fluid motion, I raised my opposite hand and flicked the latch open.  
CLICK
 I didn't bother to pay attention to who was out there since I couldn't seem to focus my eyes long enough. But I did my best to plant my feet well enough so that I could join in on pushing my window up. It slid up with a bit of effort and when the person outside got the chance, they hooked their fingers underneath the bottom and forced the window up at a much faster pace. I had to catch myself on the windowsill once more only to come face to face with the figure that was behind my window. "Move." A gruff voice says I did as I was asked, especially when I was shoved to the side. After managing to almost trip over a discarded shirt, I steadied myself as the now familiar figure practically threw themselves into my room. They tumbled to the ground and flopped around like a fish out of water for a brief moment. As I processed the loud noises, it occurred to me that I have parents, and that I don't live alone.  Shit . Quickly, I leaned down with a finger pressing against my lips. I shushed the figure to remind him that I didn’t, in fact, live alone as I sometimes forgot and even though my parents didn’t care, I’d still rather not deal with them. Just because Male Parental Unit worked nights, didn't mean that the Female Parental Unit wasn't home and couldn't wake up to come in and be petty and sour that I'd reminded her of my existence yet again. And how dare I bother her so late. Without giving him time to reply and be angry about me 'ordering him around', I made the attempt to help him up. But, of course, my hands are almost instantaneously swatted away the second that my fingers curled around the silhouette's hard bicep. "Don't — Don't fuckin' touch me! " The voice of Henry hisses at me I backed off as per the request of my lovely guest and instead returned to my original position of standing. If there was enough light over in this spot of my room, then I could show off the fact that I probably looked as corpse-like as I felt. I left my arms at my sides so that I could put my hands into my pockets, my posture immediately worsening. Although I was still tired and confused, I knew enough subconsciously to wait for the silhouette—that I now knew to be Henry —as he jumped up to his feet. Quickly, Henry whipped around and suddenly the smell of sweat and boisterous B.O. was raping my nostrils as he violently shut my window. The smell made my already dizzy head spin even more and made my face scrunch up like Henry's usually was. But, I still reflexively tore my hands out of my pockets and stuck my arms out. I hissed out a quieting shush. Henry visibly tensed up when I shushed him and in response, he swiftly spun around. His right-hand remained death gripping the dusty top of my window while his left balled up into a tight fist that shook from the tightness of his hold. Henry made sure that he glared something fierce at me with knitted eyebrows and a harsh sneer. And I just watched him with a completely blank face, my eyes flickering from place to place. His chestnut brown hair looked messier than usual and he seemed a little red in the little bit of light. Sure, Henry's face always got red whenever he was mad, I knew that. But, if the moonlight coming in from the window was right, this shade was more of a rosy red rather than his usual angry firetruck red. Curiously, I observed, noticing things here and there as I scanned his form. Things like how it wasn't just his balled-up fist that was shaking like a broken washing machine, but rather, his entire body. And Henry never shook that hard, no matter how angry he got. "Henry–" I say, racking my brain for words "It's late. What–" "Shut up." Henry interrupts Watching him begrudgingly releasing my window, practically leaving claw marks when he dragged his hand away, did its best to wake me up. Then before I could stop it, a yawn left my mouth before I finally stuffed my hands back into my warm pajama pants pockets. I clicked my tongue a couple of times as I stalled by trying to gather some sort of moisture in my dry mouth—without any luck, mind you.  His hard, shaky breaths registered in my head as we stared at each other. Eventually, I finally said something. "What are you even doing in my house?" I ask, almost solemnly, "It's like, so late." For once, Henry didn't even bother with giving me some kind of response. Nope. Instead, Henry just turned back around and reached up, grabbing a fistful of my curtains so that he could tug them back across the handle. And before I could realize it, everything in my room was once again cloaked in darkness. Well, almost . My curtains weren't that good. Silently eyeing him and patiently waiting, I watched his tense shoulders finally slump into a more lax position. I watched how they occasionally bounced as Henry brought a hand up to his mouth. I watched as he stood beside my window, his form shaky and his stance unsteady as he wrapped his other arm around himself. And as I found myself listening to his heavy hyperventilating whilst it slowly calmed, I found myself tapping my foot to the beats of his breathing. Patiently waiting for a damning comment to be fired at me for staring at him—or maybe even for the way I stood so awkwardly or how I radiated energy that was similar to that of a zombie. But nothing came. 
Nothing.
 All that came through the screaming silence around us, were soft sniffles paired with the occasional choked hiccup. I tilted my head as Henry’s head lifted from where it hung so low. Abruptly, I stopped tapping, leaving the ringing to grow even louder than it already was. His blue-gray eyes sheepishly watched me in the dark, I couldn’t see them all that well—but I could feel them. Henry’s gaze was always specific like that. His dad was the same way, as fucking gross as that man was. Henry suddenly lifted a single arm to reach behind his head, to scratch an itchy spot on his—probably—dry head. I freed a single hand from one of my pockets subconsciously to cover up my nose as the stench of Henry’s bad decisions finally urges a headache to begin buzzing inside my skull. Suddenly, the quiet crackled as Henry’s raspy voice box attempted to make big boy sounds in tune with his mouth—and he stuttered out a couple of scratchy letters before clearing his throat.  "I need to stay for a little bit." He tells me, his tone scarily soft "Don't have a cow or anything." It was little at first, an eyebrow cocking and my face scrunching up in tired confusion. Of course, I wasn’t processing any of this. But at least my initial drunken haze courtesy of some NyQuil and a random mixture of sleeping pills was finally starting to fade, so it made it a little bit easier to coexist with the weirdly standoffish Henry that stood by my window. I racked my brain, piecing together the sentence that I wanted to use. "Why would I have a cow?" I ask, lamely "Just–" Henry sucks in an abrupt breath as his voice cracks "Just don't, okay?" Something began to stir inside of me as Henry shuffled away from the window and brushed past me. Reflexively, I removed my hand from my nose and extended it out to touch him. I didn’t know what exactly I was doing, maybe placing a hand on his shoulder or something dumb like that? Either way, I failed to catch him because Henry was too quick and I was too stupid to understand what the hell I was doing. Turning, my front half followed him on his journey as he stumbled around in the dark of my room. The occasional bumps and thumps were the only things that let me know that this wasn’t Henry’s ghost or something. Though his footsteps were so soft, almost silent. Which was definitely something that I had never noticed about him—how light-footed he was. Henry stopped in the place between my bed and my nightstand so that he could fumble around. Clumsily, he knocked my lamp right off of my nightstand and I once again shushed him as he barely caught the damn thing. Henry cussed and hissed to himself, ignoring my shushing as he placed it back in its usual place. The click resonated in my head for a moment and I didn’t manage to realize what he was doing until the damage was already done. Instantaneously, I groaned in displeasure and closed my eyes to protect them from the light that assaulted my vision. Blinking away the sting to the best of my ability, I watch through a slideshow as Henry straightens up and struggles to roll his damaged shoulders. I mean, sure, it took a few minutes more than it should've. But, I still managed to stare into the room without my eyes stinging and aching at some point. The pain eventually somewhat dissolved, becoming at least a little bit less. Finally, I'm able to catch a full glimpse of Derry’s local skull-smasher. For the very first time in what felt like ages, Henry didn't have some sort of long sleeve apparel on. And what I saw because of that made me feel sick, like a ‘I can’t throw up right now but just know that I would if I could,’ kind of sick.  Thus, my mental response took a bit longer than my physical one. I removed my other hand out of my pocket and took a step forward, hesitantly extending my limp arms out to him. Even though I knew I was basically poking a bear when I did it, I couldn't help what fell out of my mouth at that moment. "Henry..?" I question, sounding unsure of the person standing in front of me Henry refused to turn around and look at me. I couldn't make anything click. I couldn't make myself focus long enough to fully grasp the concept of what I was seeing. Every time I tried, my head got all fuzzy and my eyes crossed, showing me more versions of Henry with all that shit on their backs. I just didn't understand it. Various miscellaneous bruises, welts, burns, cuts, and scars littered his back and his arms. Even though most of the mess was belt-buckle shaped bruises and welts with the imprint of the buckle usually at the end. Some were just lone bruises, albeit a lot of them were viscous ones. Some of them were fresh, colored black, purple, and blue while others were just brown and yellow. It really helped compliment the little burn marks and leaky red barcodes decorating his arms. He finally turned his head to look at me, his shoulders tensed and threatening to aggravate some of his wounds.  Slowly, his body followed after his head, bringing more light to his injuries. His blue-green eyes were glossed over when he finally looked back at me. Fresh tears trickled down his cheeks as he watched me with gritted teeth; his face painted with both embarrassment and shame. The look reminding me of a wounded animal begging me to help it. "Don't have a cow." He grumbles out, his voice weakly crackling He slowly turned himself back around to look down at my nightstand. Quietly, he brought his hands back up to his upper arms and let out a gruff sniffle. This boy standing before me now was not the Henry Bowers I grew up with. This was not the ruthless monster that terrorized random kids throughout Derry every single day in order to release his clearly pent up rage. This boy standing before me now—this was a mere stranger. This wasn't my Henry. This wasn't The Great and Terrible Henry Scott Bowers I knew. "I just need a place to stay the night." He continues, his voice still cracking "Your place was the closest besides Vic's. But I can't let him see me like this." I remained rooted to my spot, completely frozen in place whilst Henry spoke. It was sorta scary how he didn't bother to mask any of the pure desperation that dripped off of his words. Henry Bowers was a menace to society, a bully, a monster, and a psychopath. Or at least he usually was. Right now he was more like a little boy lost in the woods at night.   Shit, something awful must had happened to mess him up this good . But what? I blinked owlishly before glancing down at the floor beneath me and then back up at him. I rubbed my eyes as he tried to busy himself with looking over the various neatly framed pictures and posters I'd put up. Most of the posters were gifts that Belch had given me for my birthday last year. Meanwhile, the pictures were of me and some of my family from when I was barely 2 feet tall. And the lot of them were of me and the guys. Ones that Henry had seen them all a million times before. Oh, he was avoiding eye contact. Right. Henry chewed at his nails anxiously as he turned and looked around my room, time passing as he visibly grew more and more anxious the more times he spun around in slow circles. His eyes moved from poster to picture and back again. Well, I did forget to give him an answer. I think. In my defense though, this was all very difficult to process. I quietly scratched at my upper arm as I tried to figure out what I was supposed to do or say. The frustration gradually built alongside my exhaustion as I found my thoughts endlessly spiraling in a downward tornado that descended through a fiery quicksand sinkhole that led straight into the lowest levels of hell.  I think my mom hugged me once when I was small? Is a hug gonna do something for him? Maybe calm him down? Or maybe that was just a dream? Was —  "You gonna fuckin' say something or what?" Henry abruptly snaps, bringing me out of my daze "You keep fuckin' staring at me!" I felt myself snapping out of my thoughtful daze and I straightened up. My hands jumped back into my pockets. Henry's eyes were finally drained of any weakness, warning me that despite the tears that continued to trickle down his cheeks in a much more aggressive manner than before, he wouldn't hesitate to assert his place in the gang. Responsively, I tore my gaze away from him and instead chose to look at the floor. "Sorry, Henry." I apologize "I was thinking." "Yeah, sure." Henry scoffs "Fucking whatever." Henry walked back over to pass me once again. Only this time, he made sure to harshly bump our shoulders together. It was a simple action that managed to finally wake me up completely. I quickly shifted over into my much more defensive persona, the one that sucked up any emotions that I still held within the slowly draining husk that I called a body. I turned to Henry after I'd steadied myself from my backward stumbling. He harshly brushed my curtains aside, nearly tearing the rod down as he went to unlock my window and pull it back up. "Hey!" I exclaim, still trying to keep my voice down "Where are you going?" "Somewhere's else." He answers, short and bitter "What do you mean 'somewhere's else?'' I question, blankly "It doesn't fucking matter. Fucking forget it. Forget I fucking showed up. Forget it." He spits I ran my hands through my hair, grasping it tightly, practically tearing it out as my skin was tugged upwards. I brought my hands back down, dragging my skin with it. I watched as Henry roughly fumbled with the lock in a fluster of tears and anger. He admittedly got pretty damn close to breaking the lock if not kicking a hole through my window as he fumbled to get it open. Autopilot kicked in once again and my legs finally unbuckled themselves. I—roughly, yet quietly—thundered over to him and in only two or three, possibly four steps, I was beside him grabbing his upper arm.  It's just like that time that the guys and I had to pull him off that freshman who bumped into him at Greta’s big Halloween party last year , I told myself, I just gotta do what I did then . Before Henry could once again recoil from my touch and beat me away with his wooden caveman stick whilst yelling various 'ooga booga’s'; I managed to get at least one good tug in to drag him away from my poor abused window. "Get off!" He exclaims Henry gave me a harsh shove to tear me off of him. Instinctively—or so I assume—he went to throw a wild punch at me. And I quickly responded to his attempts to kick my ass like I was one of the fucking losers club kids by swiftly releasing his arm and diving aside, barely managing to avoid his fist. Henry clumsily stumbled a couple of steps forward due to the force of his swing. His body now trembled even harder than it had been before. Pathetically, he released a few hiccups and sobs. Now that I was finally at a loss for what to do, I inwardly panicked. And you know what a bitch does when they panic. Lamely, I spun around on my heels and flung myself at him, getting close enough to hook my arms around his neck. I just barely managed to not send both of us onto the floor and myself personally into a very long grounding that would barely even last two days due to inconsistency. Now, not wanting to look Henry in the eyes, I buried my face in his shoulder and did my best to ignore the disgusting aroma of sweat and pit stink that was strong enough to make my face crinkle up and my eyes water almost as much as Henry's. Speaking of which, Henry honestly didn't even know what to do with this. So, he opted to place his hands on my hips-and eventually on my chest-unintentionally acting rather handsy as he struggled to push me off. "Get offa' me!" He demands "Fuckin’ get off!" Henry continued to repeat that phrase over and over again, the message growing distorted as the tone and the words being used rapidly adjusted as he began to slowly cave and grow weaker with his pushing. Finally, Henry let his voice begin to crack once more. "Just get off," He hiccups out, "Please.. let go." Henry stayed awkwardly hunched over thanks to my tight grip around his neck and our different statures. His chest stuttered against mine once he returned his hands to my sides, still trying to push me off before he finally lowered his head in defeat. His forehead lightly touched my shoulder and eventually relaxed in defeat as he broke down in my arms. All of the sobs that he'd been holding in for who knows how long were finally released. I remained in place, once again rooted to the spot, only now I was holding a sobbing Henry Bowers in an ironclad grip whilst I tried to get my actions to register in my mind. Suddenly, I let out a choked wheeze of surprise as my breath left my lungs when Henry wrapped his arms around me, squeezing me so tight that I swear I sounded like a squeaky toy. Stubbornly, though, I continued to stand there, doing my best to figure out if I should say anything about my shirt sleeve growing damp with a gross concoction of tears, drool, and snot. However, just as I finally began to prepare to mention it to him and ask for him to loosen up his death grip, Henry removed one of his hands from my side. His broken hiccups and sobs began to quiet down as he brought a hand up to set on the back of my head. Henry adjusted his hunched over position, so much so that I could hear his back cracking in response to his actions. It took a moment longer of relentlessly clinging to him as if he were the last penny to my name before he finally fell into quiet sniffles and shuddering breaths. Soon enough, Henry lifted his head up so that he could comfortably rest his chin on my shoulder whilst his grip on my [hair length] locks tightened to a point where it began to burn my scalp. "You tell anyone about this," He whispers into my ear darkly, now finally sounding like his usual self "And I'll kill you." Henry abruptly released my hair and finally pushed himself off of me. It was something so small in retrospect—But, it convinced me to finally release him from my ironclad grip. "You have a funny way of thanking me," I remark, softly I carefully watched Henry twist his body away from me as he rubbed a single puffy eye with a loose fist. And it was times like those where he made me think of him as an wounded animal. I tugged at a dry spot on my sleeve, in order to be able to turn my head and see the large wet spot enter my vision. Wincing in disgust, I did my best to not focus on it as I let it go. Instead, I chose to focus on casually glancing over at the clock on my nightstand. The clock that now read " Monday " along with the new date and " 12:29 a.m. " 
Okay, yeah, I could still get a few hours in before school tomorrow. I just gotta... gotta... Fuck, what do I even do now?
 I glanced back over at Henry, who was now rubbing both of his eyes with both of his hands balled up into asymmetrically loose fists. Quietly, I scanned him from head to toe, trying to get used to seeing the bruises, scars, and welts that decorated his body. Jesus, how could I have let this happen to him? He looked like shit. Henry let his hands drop down to his sides as he once again busied himself with looking around at the posters and pictures in my room. He took a couple of steps away from the window and over to my bed where he quietly picked a picture off of the wall. It was of the guys and I and it was taken when we were still in middle school. Back when Vic still had his braces and Belch was still that doe-eyed chubby boy that tried to win everyone over with his amazing baking skills. "So.." I trail off, gathering Henry's attention "You mentioned spending the night?" Henry shrugged gruffly and replied to me with a small grunt before he put the picture back on the wall. Honestly, if I didn't know any better, I'd say that he looked slightly offended over the fact that I would suggest such a thing. Or at least that's what it seemed like when he briefly glanced over at me. However, he was probably more annoyed that I'd seen him at his weakest. I crossed my arms over my chest as Henry scratched the top of his head and went to sit down on my bed. Unfortunately, the smell hit me once again as I inhaled through my nostrils. My eyes watered and I brought my shirt back up over my nose to try and shield it from the smell. "If you stay, then you can shower." I mention, casually, before adding "It'll help you feel better." "What if I don't want to shower?" He mutters, childishly Henry crossed his arms over his chest and looked back over at the nightstand, his bottom lip pushed out in a childish pout. My mood soured as I pressed my lips in a tight line, annoyed. If I had to take care of this asshole after he showed up out of the blue and forced me to comfort him, then he was gonna fucking shower. Silently, I glared daggers at him and Henry simply glared back. We stayed like that, our minor staring contest turning into a staring standoff as he challenged me with his unblinking stare. I finally broke eye contact and made my way over to my dresser after a moment of mentally running over my options. "I don't have any underwear, but I do have stuff you can change into," I tell him  Henry shouldn't mind not having underwear , I assured myself, Since he doesn't seem to wear any anyway.  Wait, what?  Not paying attention to him, I knelt down and opened the bottom drawer. Inside it held a few men's shirts that I'd stolen from Vic, Belch, and even Henry himself—along with a single pair of men's pajama pants that I'd stolen from my Dad during laundry day last week. Quietly, I rummaged around through the drawer, scouring for one of Henry's shirts-—to which, upon finding it, I let out a small victorious 'Ah-Ha!' when I finally dragged it out. I lifted up the plain white T-shirt before setting it down and folding it over in my lap. Then, I reached back in and pulled out grey plaid pajama pants. Delicately, I folded them over one of my arms and picked up the shirt, proceeding to do the same. I held onto them as I pushed myself up off the floor and closed the drawer with my foot. Finally, I turned back to Henry, who was now eyeing me from the bed, frowning. I walked over to him, keeping eye contact as I gave him a small smile that I truly hoped conveyed my message of ‘I'm fucking tired and if you don't shower I'm gonna strangle you with these sweatpants.’ Thankfully, it seemed that he got the message. I plopped the clothes into his lap and crossed my arms as I waited expectantly. "Fine." He practically groans "Fucking fine ." I offered him a victorious grin as he stood up and made his way over to my bedroom door. Said smile didn't go away until he had finally shut my bedroom door behind him and presumably headed down the hallway to the bathroom, his steps still nearly silent as he walked. After he left, the exhaustion finally reared its ugly head and swiftly kicked me in the face. My skin felt like it was sagging as my facial expression returned to its resting emotion, which probably made me look severely depressed, now that I think about it. I turned my attention to my dresser once more and made my way back over to it. I stop in front of it, taking a moment to focus on tugging my shirt off and not getting any extra bodily fluids on my hair or on my face. Slightly grossed out, I dropped the discarded plain black T-shirt into the [favorite color] hamper that I had put between the wooden dresser and my bookshelf. Tiredly, I rubbed my droopy eyes and bent down, grabbing the first shirt that I saw so that I could slip it on. It was a plain brown T-shirt that didn't have any specific design to it, it was just as blank as the shirt I had dropped into the hamper and the white shirt I'd given Henry. Henry.
Henry, Henry, Henry,
 "Henry shouldn't mind not having underwear? " Am I fucking serious right now? I sleepily raised my hands to rub my imaginarily sagging face. I still needed to get some sleep, I was pretty sure that sleep deprivation was really starting to screw with me. I mean, Henry was gross, I literally had to convince him to take a shower. Do I really want that? Do I really want to hit that? Am I sure?  My legs carried me over to my bed and the rest of my body plopped me down on it. In a defeated manner, I rolled over onto my bed so that I could properly lie down and successfully flip the covers over my body without much effort. I released one final yawn before I rolled back over to the edge of the bed and reached up to shut the light off. 
Click

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Click

Heavy [eye color] eyes threatened to crack open as my lamp clicked on and bathed my room in light. A hand seemed to come from said light, firmly planting itself on my shoulder so that it could attempt to shake me awake; to which I—for a brief moment—almost genuinely considered forcing my eyes open to see what Henry wanted from me now. However, I wasn't anywhere near ready to give up on the bittersweet dream I was having and already beginning to forget. Plus, the warmth that my blankets provided for me didn't really make it all that much easier on me.
 
"[Last Name], wake up." He whispers

The sheer hoarseness of his voice that laid sprinkled with little bits of exhaustion only just barely registered in my brain. Although, that didn't manage to stop the gentle groan of disapproval that slipped out past my lips. Groggily, I made an attempt to tiredly roll over, maybe even tug the blankets up over my head in order to shield me from the day ahead—or was it still night? I didn't know and I clearly wasn't exactly planning on opening my eyes in order to find out, though.
 
Regardless, Henry seemed to have buckled down and committed himself to wake me up. I listened as he breathed out an irritated huff before he suddenly gave me a single harsh tug towards the edge of my bed. Out of reflex, a sharp yelp escaped my lips as my eyes snapped open. Before I went ungracefully falling out of bed and ultimately landing at Henry's feet; a single flailing and uncoordinated hand snapped to grasp the mattress. I tugged myself back up to a balanced lying position. Now that I was slightly annoyed and far beyond tired, I finally pushed myself back upright and turned myself around.
 
"

Whaaaat?

" I groan

I rubbed my blurry eyes and took a moment to blink away the gentle tendrils of sleep that dragged along my face and neck. I finally gathered enough focus just in time to see Henry wipe off the blank expression on his face and immediately paint over it with scrunched up eyebrows and a big frown.
 
"Well fuck, forget it." He grumbles, looking away from me bitterly

I stiffened up at Henry's words. Here he was-yet

again

-telling me to forget whatever it was that he was pissed about. Before I could sputter out some form of a reply, Henry was already moving to climb over my blanketed form. I guess he already decided at some point while I was out—

if not earlier—

that he was going to sleep in my bed with me, or maybe just completely take over my bed and force me onto the couch downstairs. Actually, I could've probably tried sleeping on the bean bag in the corner. Well, probably. I don't think just

one

bean bag would've really let me stretch out all that much. Hell, maybe I could just say fuck it and sleep in the desk chair. I think Vic had done that a couple of times, after all. So, maybe it wasn't

too

bad. Or perhaps that was one of the others? I couldn't really remember.
 
Henry finally made his move climbing over me, effectively snatching my attention away from the cushion-y black desk chair that I had found myself staring at thoughtfully. Henry's movements were cautious and gentle, which kept the large mattress' creaks and groans down to a barely-there squeak that only

I

seemed to notice. The frame responded with the same volume of creaking, but that thing was always quiet. Regardless, I couldn't help but notice that despite how angry he had sounded before, his movements

very

clearly reflect something

very

different.
 
Henry's baby blues avoided me as he focused on the empty space residing on the opposite side of my body. He silently stared right into the [color] sheets as if they'd murdered his family. His movements remained the exact amount of quiet as they had been when he had walked across my floor earlier, both down the hall and throughout my room. Honestly, it was freakishly bizarre. I could've sworn that Henry was usually so much more thunder-footed, just like the rest of the guys—Belch especially.
 
Not that there's anything wrong with either option or anything.
 Henry made sure to climb up to a sitting position in the barren area of thin [color] sheets, where my heavy [color] winter blanket didn't reside and take up the comfy landscape. He took a brief moment to reach down and gather a fistful of the heavy blanket into his bony hands. You know, so that he could lie down and extend his lower half underneath the fluffy material, allowing the blanket to encase him just as it did to me. Henry made sure to lie down facing the wall, seemingly ignoring my very existence as his rustling died down and the room went quiet. I patiently waited for a moment, debating as to whether or not I should shut the light off and go back to bed, leaving it all alone for the night. But, I guess he'd had a really rough night. So maybe this was something to be expected?  
Should I apologize for snapping at him?
 
Quietly, I sucked in a breath, letting it come through my nose and enter my lungs as I blankly observed his still frame.
 
"I'm... sorry." I abruptly apologize, cutting through the silence with my minor hesitation "I shouldn't have snapped at you."
 
"Whatever," He replies, weakly dismissing my apology

I brought my blanketed knees up to my stomach to rest my light arms and heavy head atop it. Silence fell once again as Henry continued staring at the wall.
 
"Do you.. want me to stay?" I question

I truly expected an immediate no to leave his lips, which would've left me to abandon the warmth of my covers so that he could have his space. But Henry didn't do that. He visibly tensed up at my question, going from boy to statue in seconds, as if I had just given him the ultimate choice of horrible choices. I could barely see the way he pursed his lips together, or if he did at all, simply due to the fact that I could only see the corner of his mouth shifting. Henry didn't answer me for a long time. I didn't know exactly how long, but it felt like ages before he finally said those two little words that made me question the reality of the entire night.
 
"Could you..?" He asks in reply, his tone nothing more than a gravelly whisper

It took a moment for me to process his words, a moment too long, most likely. Perhaps the sleep deprivation had truly gotten to me this time, I had thought to myself. Henry curled up beside me, his body lightly shaking as he presumably began to shed tears once again, due to whatever tornado was going on inside of him and his brain. I dumbly listened to his quivering breaths as they entered and exited his lungs, and examined his miniature meltdown, once again at a loss for what to do. Would I hug him again? Would I have to? Should I leave him alone this time? Maybe I could just..— 
 
Awkwardly, I lowered my legs and lifted my arms and head. I turned my body and leaned over, resting my weight on a single arm so that I could reach out more easily. With my dominant hand, I lied on his shoulder, petting it in a curious and unsure way. I had no idea what the flippity fuck I was doing, I mean, what even

is

comforting people?
 
I jumped for a split second the second that his hand that had originally gripped his upper arm, snaked out from underneath the blankets. It overlapped mine, stopping my confused petting as it just settled there, consuming my colder hand with new warmth. I was locked up everywhere. My eyes flickered back and forth from the hand to his face. He didn't even look away from where he stared at the wall and just allowed the tears to silently leak down the side of his face and onto one of my pillows.
 
Henry's eyes flutter closed, his wet lashes painting his cheeks as tears escaped out the corners of his eyes in his silent weeping. But I continued to stay still, my eyes darting back and forth from the hand on mine to his face and back again. I supposed I was watching over him in some sort of way? I didn't know, I didn't really like that idea. I wasn't exactly the best person for that situation, and it was a bit strange considering that he just showed up out of nowhere. My thoughts raced out of pure confusion, a while ago I was forced to hug him into submission, but now he just immediately accepted my lame attempts at stopping his tears? 
 
My arm grew to tire from continuously supporting my weight, and soon enough began to ache. All the while his breathing began to even itself out as the tears slowed to dry. When his hand finally dropped from mine and gently plopped itself beside his loudly snoring face, my arm shook and threatened to give out. After a short period of processing, I finally retracted my hand and sat up off of my arm. I took a few minutes to grasp the edge of my blanket, holding it up so that I could scoot back under and rest my head on my pillow. It took a few minutes before I got comfortable and warmed back up, but I still managed.
 
"Night Henry," I whisper, before reaching up and shutting off the light.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

I walked across the kissing bridge, my hand dragging behind me across the aging wood. It was cold, but somehow I felt even colder. It wasn't something I could explain, but as I ventured, the bridge only seemed to grow longer, the wood creaking and groaning as it extended outward to make my trek even longer. As I went, I watched through the windows, each one showing me something different. While one window would play me a miniature movie of a younger version of Henry and I wrestling in the dirt of his driveway, another one would offer me something different, something like Belch pulling up to my house to show us his brand new car, or the gang and I chucking rocks at bottles we'd set up in the junkyard. 
"I need to stay for a little bit."
 I paused, turning to look over at one of the windows. There stood Henry, in the dark of the void, awkwardly hugging himself. I watched him for a moment, carefully, closely before finally approaching it. 
"Don't have a cow or anyth–"
  " Oh, don't have a cow, [First Name]. "  Sharply, I spun around, the bridge angrily groaning under my feet as I made eye contact with Hockstetter, who was already climbing in from one of the windows. He eyed me with his usual predatory grin, a familiar glint in his hand as he flashed that damned pocket knife he'd found on the walk to the campsite that night. "Just relax, [First Name]. Let it happen. I wasn't planning on hurting you." Patrick all but murmured "Well, not too much.. if you behave for me, I'll be nice." Suddenly, boney hands were all over me and I could hear myself trying to scream but nothing would come out but a broken, scratchy noise. As if my vocal chords had been crushed. I reached up, wrapping my shaking hands around his wrists as I attempted to claw them off of my neck. He smiled down at me, all teeth and no emotion. His eyes sparkled dangerously as I fell back, the bridge caving beneath me and falling away, causing me to be thrown through stale air that I couldn't feel. My limbs angrily tingled, miniature stabs poking at my skin everywhere as I wheezed, gasping for air that I couldn't take in. My body was cold—clammy, really and despite the tears running down my face, floating upward toward the sky as I fell, my eyes never left his shrinking form. "Wake up, [First Name]." Patrick softly whispers to me, his words echoing around me "Wake up." I flipped over unconsciously, watching the rapidly approaching ground as it came upon me. "Wake up." 
Wake up!
 My eyes cracked open as the hand shoving at my side continued its assault. I grumbled out a slurred murmur of 'no' to Henry, telling him that I was in no way, shape, or form about to wake up again. However, my lack of consent had only fallen on deaf ears as the shaking grew more aggressive. I curled up under my blankets and hid deeper in the heap. Weakly, I reached out underneath the mess to swat away the offending hands. 
Just fifteen more minutes of sleep, I only fell asleep like three minutes ago..
 "If you insist." A nasally voice that certainly did not belong to Henry tells me A fire lit inside of me, setting all of my senses on fire the second that I had heard him speaking to me. Suddenly, his hands encased my lazily waving one so that he could get to work trying to drag me out of the safety of my bed. But I shouldn't have been surprised. No, what I should've been surprised about, was how he was currently in my fucking house . Awake and now on the defensive, I threw my blankets off me and shot upright. I quickly grabbed one of his wrists with my opposite hand but this only seemed to encourage him. So much so that he sharply yanked me, nearly dislocating my arm from the force. Tearing my hands from his scalding grip, I caught myself on my mattress. Angrily, I gritted my teeth and righted myself on my bed so that I could glare up at him properly. 
I really wish these assholes would stop trying to give me concussions by dragging me off my bed.
 Hurriedly, yet still not fast enough, I recoiled from him, the skin that had burned from his always unwanted touching now began cooling and tapering off. "Mornin', sunshine!" He chirps Stress that hadn't been completely acknowledged beforehand, spilled over almost immediately. Rage boiled within me as I reached over to my nightstand and the closest item—which happened to be my clock—and tore it out of the wall as I reeled it back and threw it at Patrick, who failed to avoid it. It clattered to the ground angrily and I probably looked like I'd just eaten every lemon on the tree when I'd started shouting at him. "Don't fucking touch me!" I screech "What the fuck are you doing? Why are you even in my house, you nasty fucking stick!?" "One question at a time, [Nickname]." Patrick teases My body shook with rage as I got up out of my bed and stalked up to him. I swear I was right on the verge of clawing that disgusting smile right off of his face. I may have hated touching him and I may have hated how his skin felt on mine when he touched me, but I wasn't about to skip out on a chance at protecting myself from that freak . Luckily for Patrick, Victor was already in my room, trying to separate us from having a brawl. He put a hand on Patrick's chest and backed the freaky stick away from me.  Victor extended his hand out, holding something out to me as Belch stepped in and removed Patrick from my room, murmuring things like 'I told you not to go in there' and '[First Name] doesn't like you in there.' I stared down his retreating form, lightly panting as my adrenaline drained out of my nervous system. "Here," Victor tells me Now with Patrick gone from my sight and this object in my face, I'm forced to pull my head back and refocus my vision. It took a moment for me to finally realize that it was a cup he held in his hands, a coffee cup that was very obviously from Dale's. I accepted the cup, feeling the cold touch of the ice and the chilled brown liquid inside. It was nice that the boys finally remembered my order since they always seemed to 'conveniently forget' that I prefer iced. I took a sip from the straw and climbed down from my bed. "Thank you," I murmur into the straw "Yeah, it was no big deal, really. Only took time out of my day and everything." Victor mutters A small smile spread across my face as I chuckled, the light inside me finally flicking off as I immediately went to work tuning out the elephant in the room. I glanced down at my coffee, playing with the straw for a moment before sipping from the drink once more. Awkwardly, Victor turned and made his way to the door so that I could probably start getting dressed for today. I took the hint and made my way over to my dresser as he delicately shut my door behind himself. I got to work pulling out random clothes and getting ready, not caring much about my outfit since the horn was probably going to start getting honked if I took any longer. Absentmindedly, I threw a passing glance over at my bed, my awake brain finally registering that Henry was no longer there. Which was most likely because he'd left sometime in the early morning through my window. Foggy memories painted themselves out in my head, playing me a slideshow of Henry sluggishly climbing over me and going to the window. The quiet squeak of the floorboards underneath his feet and the quiet clicking of my window lock before it was lifted open. Of course, I'd watched him leave whether he realized it or not. Which definitely left no doubt of the reality of him showing up. And it had been strange to watch him go, moving with a patience that I'd never known him to possess. Even as his feet touched down on my cold floor, his footsteps remained just as soft as they had been the entire night and even as he silently raised my window up and climbed out, part of me had gotten the urge to stop him, but the NyQuil and the drugs I'd pumped into myself had me passing back out before I had gathered up the energy to stop him from leaving—from going back to that house. I had found myself sleepily thinking, as if I were writing the ending to a chapter of a story within my brain. Things like ' Maybe he wouldn't come back out of that house one day and that would be it. That right there would be the end of Henry Bowers as we knew it . ' Stupid things, really. Obviously, Henry could take care of himself; we all could. But something about seeing him so broken down had unlocked something inside me. A useless part of me that I wish I didn't have to deal with, a useless part that I'd been trying to pull the killswitch on for years. I wasn't his fucking mom, I don't understand why I felt so desperate to baby him like I was. Henry could take care of himself. He could take care of himself. Picking my coffee back up, now in clean clothes but still feeling like death, I took a few more sips. 
Maybe he'll end up as another name under the bridge or something. Just another missing person's poster.
 I put a hand over my face and groaned. This was not how I wanted to start my morning, almost committing a well deserved murder and obsessing over Henry like some sort of stalker. Rubbing my tired face, I did my best to shove down any more of those stupid intrusive thoughts and pull it together as well as I could. I mean, sure, Henry had shown up all in a hot mess and in the middle of a nuclear meltdown but that was just how he was. He was unstable and it wasn't any of my business. I mean, how am I supposed to even react to any of that? I hugged him into submission and he held my hand when I was sitting there trying to figure out what I was supposed to do. He cried on me, on my bed, and then went to sleep. What am I supposed to do with that? Am I even supposed to do anything? Sighing angrily at myself, I shook my head and rubbed my face even harder. Now was not the time. Now was not the time. Now was not the– 
Knock knock knock

I looked over at my door, watching as Victor cracked the door and peeked inside through the crack. "You ready yet? I can feel myself aging." He tells me Finally pulled out of my head for more than a second, I rolled my eyes playfully and walked over to the door. I opened it the rest of the way and watched as Victor stepped back, he never was much of a morning person. "Sure, grandpa. I'm ready." I reply Victor snorted in reply, somewhat amused. He turned and started down the hallway. "Let's go then," Victor tells me "Before I'm too old and can't walk anymore." "I'm sure we can find you a nice stick to use." I laugh I followed after him as he turned and started down the hallway towards the living room where Belch and Patrick waited for us. Ignoring Patrick's crooked smile and prying stare, I greeted Belch. "Glad you didn't drive off this time," I mention "We thought about it." Patrick interjects I just ignored him and made my way over to the coat rack where I grabbed my jacket and slipped into my shoes. Belch headed out first and Victor stayed behind as Patrick approached me. "I wanted to let him drive off." Patrick mentions, with a lick his lips from the corner of my eye "It's almost winter and it'd be fucking hysterical to watch you walk to school in the cold again." "That's because you're a psychopath , Patrick." I reply, not missing a beat, "Now get out of my fucking house ." Expectantly, I waited for Patrick to just leave as I finished tying my laces. In his usual fashion, he made a show of stretching his arms until his shoulders popped before his hands finally sunk into his pockets. He'd snorted in reply to my coldness, but make no mistake, he was quite happy that he'd managed to get under my skin so early in the morning. I straightened back up and fixed my jacket on my shoulders, sucking in a deep inhale through my nose as I turned to face him. He was standing too close but at least I got a front row seat to the tissues stuffed up his nostrils to help stop the flow of blood. I smirked despite the nausea swirling around in my stomach. Patrick quickly realized just what exactly I was staring at, and the corner of his mouth twitched, his usual grin threatening to falter as he grew annoyed. Victor had sensed the rapidly growing tension and brushed past me. He set a skinny little hand on Patrick's shoulder and muttered a small 'Come on' to the Hockstetter boy before practically dragging him by his jacket sleeve out of the house. Satisfied, I picked my iced coffee up off of the floor and followed after them, taking a moment to shut the front door behind me in the process. The cold air hit me almost immediately and my stride grew wider as I made my way to the front porch steps, which I quickly went thumping down. A drawn out honk came from the vehicle parked in front of my house and I glanced up just in time to see the annoyed face of Henry as he stuck his head out of the passenger side window and yelled at me. "Hurry the fuck up!" Henry's shouts He slammed his hand down on the horn a couple more times and I continued my power walk over to the car. Belch was already in the driver's seat and Patrick was in the middle of climbing in whilst Victor was standing, leaning up against the car and resting his chin on his hand. "Trying," I tell him, though it went unheard because of the horn Childishly, Henry flopped back in his seat and crossed his arms in a huff as I rounded the car. Victor hopped down from his spot and allowed me inside before he climbed in after. Henry had already started scolding me like he did every other morning. I guess he'd already pushed away the fact that he'd spent most of the night at my house the way that he had. But whatever, it shouldn't and didn't bother me. Ignoring the painful twinge in my chest, I went to work with tuning Henry out and just focusing on my coffee. I sank down into my seat and got as comfortable as I could. Unfocused and uninterested in everything around me, I reached up to scratch an itchy spot on my face as Belch pulled away from the curb. "Are you fuckin' hearin' me?" Henry hisses My head raised and I let out a sleepy yawn into my hand as I nodded. Henry's eye started to twitch as the veins around his reddening face and neck made themselves more present. "Yeah, Henry." I lie "I'm listenin'." I could practically feel the rage radiating off of him in angry waves as he glared at me, most likely already debating my murder. But, it was kinda nice to have things already back to normal. Though, it was also a lot nicer to not have Henry screeching in my face for at least a few minutes last night. Refreshing, even. "Fuckin'— Whatever! " He exclaims, throwing his arms up in the air and almost hitting the roof of the Trans-Am "I'm too tired for your shit." 
Me too, Henry.
 And then I was mentally tired again, more so than I already was physically. It would be nice if he didn't have to dismiss me over and over again because it just made me feel so shitty but that was just how it was around here. Henry finally turned back around in his seat so that he could focus on staring angrily at the road ahead. I allowed my head to finally fall back against the seat and promptly closed my eyes. I tried my best to relax and it had almost started to work before I felt something repeatedly jabbing me in my right side. Opening my eyes I frustratedly glanced over at Patrick who just kept shamelessly staring and poking me with a single finger. Angrily, I reached out and shoved him slowly against the door until I was at least slightly satisfied with how far away he was—although it still wasn't far enough. Patrick giggled as I removed my disease ridden hand and wiped it off on the back of Belch's seat, vile curses being muttered in Patrick's direction as I gritted my teeth.  Staring forward, I settled for passive aggressively sipping my coffee as everything mostly settled down in the car. Henry was at work fiddling with the radio, trying to find a station that he liked whilst Belch did his best to focus on the road, Victor quietly busied himself staring out the window trying not to fall asleep as Patrick drummed on his thighs and played with his rings. I just settled for looking around aimlessly for the rest of the drive as things happened here and there. Once Henry found a station that he could stand, Belch and Victor ended up talking with Patrick about nothing in particular. Though their conversation was strained because Patrick was always trying to push buttons by steering the conversation somewheres disturbing. But that was just Patrick for you—a weird fucker who constantly pretended to squander any possible intelligence that was left within his steadily dying, probably sleep-deprived brain. And I knew the truth. I stared down at the floor as I sipped on the remainder of my coffee. Or at least I had been until Patrick glanced over and prompted me to make reflexive eye contact. Then, for a short moment, green clashed with [eye color] in an all-knowing war that he was most likely already sure that he'd won. Though I was unwilling to get into it with him any more than I already had, I tore my eyes from his and instead focused on him in my peripheral vision. A devilish smile spread across his face once he'd decided that he'd won our staring contest. Without fully realizing, anger morphed into minor discomfort and if I wasn't careful that minor discomfort would grow into major discomfort. He sniggered, covering his mouth as he excitedly and softly giggled beside me. I repressed a small shiver, trying not to make it any more obvious to him than I already had that he bothered me so much. I was too tired for his shit today and despite the cocktail of many emotions that he made me feel, I still knew that I couldn't keep acting on them all at once. Especially if it would end as badly as I already knew that it would. Today just wasn't the day and I guess a big part of me was okay with that fact. Simply because I was just too tired. I, as per usual, was just too tired. 
Oh, what an absolute surprise that was.
 By the time we’d turned onto Pasture Rd., I had fully drilled through the coffee that I’d been given. I'd barely been listening to the quiet conversation that Belch, Victor, and occasionally Patrick had busied themselves with. Though, it's not like Patrick ever really had anything smart to say when he got like this. Especially during those mornings when everybody's brains had been deep-fried and packaged up to be sent to the store. At least that's the only way that I could really explain it. But hey, it was easy for Patrick to dumb himself down, for all I knew he’d been doing it for years.  Patrick was the kind of guy who was a little smarter and more disturbing than he let on. The kind of thing where when you think you have him figured out, he would surprise you with something new—something worse. So, you'd spend a little time trying to connect the dots and red strings on the corkboard. However, we’d all stopped trying to deconstruct that whole mess years ago. By now, we’d just accepted the pencil case full of dead flies and the fact that he never showered but still somehow smelled like a ‘gentle’ mix of copper and pine. We’d accepted that he could make your body feel ten times denser just through conversation. He could say one word to someone and as if he'd snapped his fingers, Bam! Suddenly it was like you were carrying a fully stocked refrigerator on your back.  Hell, the guy even made my body hurt without even so much as touching me. Every time I tried to breathe around him I would get stabbed through the chest with a sharp pang just from the smell of him; and those pangs weren't like the weird ones that I seemed to be getting from being around or talking to Henry. 
Henry.
 My eyes drifted away from my lap, and over to the passenger's side. It was there that Henry rested, slumped over with his temple pressed against the window and his arms crossed over his chest. His gentle snoring was barely audible enough to fill whatever quiet the others would land on after conversation gradually fell short every so often. My curious eyes watched the visible lower half of his side as it slowly rose and fell. Every little breath that he took in his slumber, the ones that prompted his chest to rise, aided in lifting the end of his slightly too small, black, long-sleeved shirt up. But with every exhale it always lowered itself back down to cover up the black waistband of his navy blue boxers—the ones that peeked out of his jeans. 
I guess he did wear underwear after all.
 I cringed. 
Goddammit, [First Name] get it together. That's disgusting.
 A wave of disgust washed over me. Jesus, what was wrong with me? That was my Henry—the leader of our group , he wasn’t some Derry Junior-Senior High School crush that I was fawning over, all ‘ oh my gawd, he’s so hawt !’ I mean, we’ve literally known each other forever and I like those without a murderous temper, [trait], and [characteristc]. I seriously don’t get this new hyper-fixation I'd seemed to have developed. Maybe I was just overthinking things. Suddenly, my heart is struck with a pang; and, I must’ve actually cringed this time because when I slapped a hand over my briefly still heart as my face snapped down toward the carpeted ground underneath my shoes, Victor noticed right away. "What's up with you? " Victor suddenly remarks My attention shifted over to him and I blinked a few times. I was doing my best to process his words, but for some reason, they didn’t seem to want to go through my processing unit properly. Maybe it was because Victor always ended up mumbling at the most inconvenient times, especially when he was annoyed. Or maybe it was because this coffee wasn't doing terribly great with its simple job of waking me up. Though for all I knew it just hadn’t kicked in completely yet.  "What?" I ask him, confused Victor removed his hands from the pocket of his sweatshirt and crossed his arms loosely over his chest. He tilted his head down in order to give me a ‘suspicious of you’ /  ’you know exactly what I’m talking about’ kind of look. And at long last, recognition clicked in my head as I finally understood the question that he’d asked me just a mere few seconds ago. My face flushed in response as I looked away from him and instead down at my shoes.  "Oh," I reply, dumbly My hand slipped down from my heart and into my lap, where it rested for a moment as I looked back up at a patiently waiting Victor, who now had a cocked eyebrow. "Nothing.” I reply, ”Just swallowed too much and it hurt." "Oh, did ya now?" Patrick's smug voice comes from beside me Like a cat, my hair stood up at attention the second his voice dishonored my ears. Immediately, I whipped right around.  A deep scowl replaced my most likely guilty expression as scoffed. Turning away, I brought the straw up to my lips and took it into my mouth where I bit down on it. I couldn’t wake up Henry with my shouting otherwise we’d all be in trouble. However, that didn’t stop me from radiating hateful energy, and sending firey, hatred-fueled daggers his way with as much energy and awake-ness as I could muster. Of course, of course , his mind would drift to that!  
Ugh!
 Patrick's prying eyes shamelessly flickered down to my [lip color] lips where they lingered for longer than I was comfortable with. Then again, I would be uncomfortable with a single glance too. Either way, as they returned back up to my eyes. I released the straw and swallowed what little was left of the coffee in my mouth. "I'll shove you out of this car again." I threaten "Don't fucking try me." Yes, I’d once shoved him out of the Trans-Am whilst it was moving. I believe that that was around the time when Belch had first gotten his license, early last summer. At the time, Patrick was pestering me, pulling my hair, shoving me into Victor, and poking my sides all because I wouldn’t speak to him. So, I got mad and reached over, popped his door open, and shoved him out. Admittedly, it wasn’t the safest choice, but Belch wasn’t going that fast so Patrick ended up fine. Though, he did have to visit the hospital for a teeny bit because of the nasty road rash on his right bicep. Stupid bastard didn't tuck and roll. It was his own fault. I stared down at my shoes with a tight expression. I meant it when I said that I’d shove him out again. I was dead serious.  Energy pounded away within my inner workings as Patrick‘s smile simply grew wider. Confrontations such as this—especially with Patrick—always managed to make my body go into overdrive. It wasn't as easy as it looked, y’know? Even though Patrick spent just about every day pushing my buttons, he still found new ways to get to me. But now, with all the spontaneously appearing and disappearing thoughts of Henry and about last night, I just wasn't.. I was off my game and I needed to get out of this car. Luckily, we were just now pulling up towards the school and therefore getting closer to the parking lot. So, in an effort to distract myself from my oncoming fit of rage and the persistent exhaustion, I decided to start looking around again. Removing Patrick from my peripheral all together. Instead, I looked around the interior once again, scanning and scanning until my eyes landed back on Henry, who still slept soundly in the front seat. He was even in the same position that he was originally in when I'd given him the once over earlier. I took note of his dad's dark brown-nearly black bomber jacket that was currently balled up in his lap. It was the jacket that he almost always wore during the winter and on cold or chilly days—if not mornings. I guess with autumn now rolling into winter, it was time for him to start wearing it again. His leather jacket sure as hell wouldn't keep him warm enough. My eyes lingered on the jacket for a millennia as my thoughts swallowed me whole. Those bruises.. they were real, weren't they? He really did come to my house and everything? I wasn't crazy?  He must've been so tired after all the tossing and turning that he'd done. Who knows if he even got any actual sleep at all. Plus, Henry wasn't too terribly cheerful when it came to being woken up. Not just that, but he was already giving me a hard time for most of the night anyway. I mean, I had to convince him to shower. What kind of person needs to be convinced to shower? Henry, apparently. Unlike his leather jacket, the bomber jacket had a furry inside. That, and it was even decorated with bunches of patches. Said patches were divided up onto the chest part with two above the front two pockets and placed above and below each other. Meanwhile, there were more patches on the outer part of the sleeves. It must be really warm. After a while of staring at it, wondering what it would be like to be wearing it, I finally pulled my attention off of the jacket; and refocused it so that I could peer out the windshield.  Oh, we were finally pulling into the school parking lot. Honestly, I couldn't be more thankful. Don't get me wrong, I'm okay with hanging out with the gang and all and I'm okay with getting a free ride to school every morning. But, it's just that I really needed to get out of this van before I suffocated. If it wasn't Patrick bugging me then it was me obsessing about Henry like some love-drunk loser. Maybe I was just worried? He did look pretty rough last night.  Probably. Anyone with half a brain would be worried about The Great and Terrible Henry Bowers . But half the town didn't really care, though, since they all seemed to share one single brain cell—at least the adults did anyways. Meanwhile, most of the kids in Derry were simply afraid of him and the adults tended to stay out of it, just like everything else. I mean, when Elliott Carter's dog got hit by a drunk driver last week and did anyone do anything? No. Moving on, Belch didn't waste any time with parking. Although, he didn't slam on the brakes or harshly turn the wheel into whatever parking spot he decided on like he usually did whenever it came to mornings like these—or any morning at all, really. Probably because Henry was sleeping and if Belch did either one of those things—let alone both of them at the same time—then Henry would definitely lose his shit when he woke up. Instead, Belch gently parked Amy in her spot for the day, making sure that he took extra care in turning off the engine. Thankfully, Henry woke up at this, which meant that we didn't have to play rock, paper, scissors to see who had to wake Henry up. Since that was the only way to keep Patrick from waking him up the second he fell asleep, just to piss him off. The last time—it being last Tuesday—it was Victor who ended up getting an earful of practically unintelligible shouting that lasted for almost half an hour. The poor guy was pissed for days and he only just stopped being bitter about it on Saturday, I think. Meanwhile, at the time, the rest of us ended up making our way up to the school only to end up sitting and waiting on the sidewalk for them. Belch was up mostly smoking, while I played with a stick that I’d found. Yeah, I was literally just pushing pebbles and stones around, whilst Patrick flicked his lighter open and closed until someone—it being Henry—yelled at him to knock it off. We all waited for Henry’s eyes to crack.open before he pushed himself up off of the door. Tiredly, he gathered himself up enough to stretch and rub his tired eyes. "Mornin', Hank." Belch greets him Victor and Patrick had already opened up their doors and climbed out by the time Henry finally mumbled something back in reply. Grabbing his dad's jacket and unbuckling his seatbelt—the one Belch makes him wear—he, too, popped his door open. Henry climbed out of the vehicle and slammed the door shut behind him, much to Belch’s distaste. Sleepily shambling, Henry made his way up to the school whilst slipping on the aforementioned bomber jacket. I lingered for a moment longer since I wasn’t exactly ready for today, but when I looked up and met Belch's eyes in the rearview mirror, I felt a little better. Even though he was watching me with the same worried face that Mama Huggins always gave him whenever we would come over to visit or get some food. "You sure you're up for today?" He asks, "You’re lookin’ more tired than usual." I replied with a small shrug before I scooted over toward Victor's side since he'd left the door open for me to climb out through, just as he always did. And hey, at least he didn't make me climb out on Patrick's side like he used to before he started to tolerate me sitting so close next to him. I listened as Belch sighed before he finally popped his door open and climbed out of the Trans-Am alongside me. His keys jingled in his hand as he moved, and if my head didn’t ache in any way, shape, and/or form, I would’ve been able to put up with it. But being beside Patrick for such a long time had really taken its toll.  Either way, once my feet hit the pavement below, I tossed my cup over Belch’s head and into the distance, much to his annoyance. I watched as he reflexively ducked, but he was unable to escape a couple droplets of iced coffee that landed in his hair and on his shoulder. Instead of getting mad, though, he just sighed and shook his head. Turning around, I immediately met the brown eyes of Victor, who looked rather unimpressed at my skillful throwing. "You take forever," Victor remarks, sighing "I can take even longer if you want," I banter, smiling lightly Victor groaned dramatically. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked up at the sky, as if to question God with a 'why?'. Belch shut my door behind me and Victor spun around on his heels and walked away from me, satisfied with his display. I snickered, glancing over at Belch, who returned my shrug from before as he walked up beside me. His dark brown jacket that was sporadically littered in light brown spots—that we're most likely the effect of sun bleaching if not actual bleaching—floated in the wind as he walked. The dark brown strings of the hood we're even splayed out across his broad chest. And this little detail allowed his black and white Anthrax band tee to be proudly displayed. As usual, Belch didn't bother tucking it into his gray-blue stonewashed jeans though; and he didn't bother tucking the ends of said jeans into those steel-toe hikers boots that he always wore, even though he barely ever went hiking. "Hurry the fuck up!" Henry demands from ahead of us We all joined together on the sidewalk that lined the parking lot. Henry was impatiently waiting beside Patrick. Waiting for Victor, Belch, and I, to catch up to them. Patrick seemingly kept himself busy by tapping his foot and drumming a random beat on his thighs as he absent-mindedly chewed on his bottom lip. And as Belch and I caught up with Victor, who caught up with Henry and Patrick, Henry finally looked over at Patrick. Irritation spread across his face clear as day, a vein was already popping out of his forehead by the time he raised an eyebrow. Ah, a warning sign. "Would you fuckin' stop? " Henry snaps "Sure, Hank," Patrick replies, pausing his actions He overdramatically turned his head to Henry as his arms froze in place. He released his bottom lip and instead grinned his classic devil grin. "But when? " He whispers, loudly Patrick went back to drumming and turned his attention to the rest of us as Henry growled. He narrowed his eyes at Patrick, who cheerfully tilted his head left and right every so often as he hums off-key to an unnameable song. Meanwhile, I took my time to admire my surroundings. The groups of friends conversing amongst each other, the kids getting off the buses, the parents dropping their children off, that lady walking her dog, the clown holding a balloon— The clown holding a balloon? I did a swift double take and quickly realized that no, it was just the school mailbox with a red 'I ♥ Derry' balloon attached to it. Phew, that could've been weird. Maybe I’m just tired? My eyes continued to drift around the schoolyard, eventually landing and staying on Henry's back. He really did look tired, possibly even as tired as me. I took a moment to give all of the guys a once over, and the only ones who appeared tired were Henry and Victor. I continued to watch the boys—or more specifically, Henry—as they walked and talked about who knows what. The only thing that was different about the conversational situation this time, though, was that Henry was finally awake enough to be included. Sure, I couldn't tell what they were talking about now. But, I didn't exactly care all that much either. And it was here at this point where I took notice of the little limp that Henry walked with. I'm not sure the others noticed it. But, I sure as hell did. Did he have it last night, though? In all honesty, I couldn't help but wonder what had happened when he'd left me last night to go back home. After all, he'd spent most of the night tossing and turning in his sleep. Henry looked side to side for a moment, before he abruptly stopped in his tracks and spun around, meeting my eyes almost instantly. He looked nearly startled for a brief moment when he saw my unwavering stare. However, that didn't stop him from flipping the switch to go back to his usual angry demeanor. "What the fuck is taking ya so damn long?" Henry barks "Move your ass, [Last Name]!" The others followed suit in turning around to stare at me. I sighed quietly before finally giving in and jogging to catch up with them. I paused in front of Henry, holding his gaze for a moment longer. "What's with you, anyway?" He questions, sharply It was a rhetorical question, though. So there was no sense in replying. Henry sharply broke eye contact at that question, managing to catch me slightly off guard. It was then that pang from earlier surged through my chest once again. In response, my hand reflexively snapped up to my chest. I had to stop in place for a moment — not that anyone noticed since my quiet gasp of pain was silenced almost immediately by the bustling community around me. Today was gonna be shit.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

My classes — and school in general, really — had been long and boring as always. Although, being late helped out a little bit. But I was still trapped in various rooms at certain intervals with various adults who talk too much and have the goal of shoving useless facts into my head — facts that I didn’t need — hence them being useless. 
Click ca-click

And even though for once in my very short life I'd successfully avoided being chastised by my first-period teacher for being late like usual; I'd still gotten pulled — along with the rest of the gang — to get chastised by the principal yet again for ‘not giving more of a shit about our futures.’ But hey, at least I didn't have to go to gym class. 
Click ca-click

Although, Henry's constant side-eye had me a little bit on edge throughout the day. Especially since the seat that he had chosen when we were all outside of the principal's office was the one right next to mine. And none of it helped me clear my deteriorating brain of all the new empty thoughts and chaotic clutter that occasionally sent me spiraling down deep. Sometimes, I swear that I was like the disorderly version of Alice from Alice In Wonderland, with all of my chaotic daydreams and even more chaotic night dreams — if you could even call them that sometimes. 
Click ca-click

Taking a small bite of the ham and cheese sandwich that I’d bummed off of Victor, I chewed it up a bit more aggressively than intended. But of course, my brain was still spiraling down the rabbit hole, chasing after the rabbit that had ran by earlier shouting about being late. Y'know, maybe if he wasn't so busy announcing to the world how late he was, he would get where he was going a lot faster. Why's he gotta prove that he's late? 
Click, ca-click

The constant clicking of Patrick's fucking zippo didn't help at all with any of the mess of thoughts that currently had me completely swallowed up. Either way, at least it was lunchtime and things were a bit lighter – No! Son of a bitch! I mean — Ugh! I can't fucking think with all this noise! 
Click ca-click

I sucked in a breath and turned, about to say something along the lines of 'knock that shit off' when a subtle nudge acquired my attention first. I turned my head to Victor who extended his pack out to me, one of his menthols already halfway pulled out. Quietly, I twisted my body toward the car in order to set the sandwich down on the wrapper. The one that Victor had laid out on the trunk to keep the sandwiches from getting dirty if one of us wanted to put our half down for whatever reason. Twisting back, I took the aforementioned stick between my middle and index finger on one hand whilst I used the other to rifle around the pocket of my jeans for my lighter. 
Click ca-click

Upon finding said lighter, I grasped it and pulled it out with a victorious smile. Now, putting the butt between my lips, I brought the lighter up and flicked it on, effectively lighting the cig. I moved, leaning against the trunk as I took my first drag. Bringing one ankle over the other, I stuffed my free hand into the pocket of my jacket. Patrick's clicking was still prominent but less frustrating now that my hands and brain were busy. Henry, however.. 
Click ca-

"Knock that shit off, Hockstetter!" Henry suddenly barks Henry spun to face Patrick, who was leaning casually against the Trans-Am with one hand in his pocket and the other on the zippo. On edge, we all watched as Patrick's eyes crept over to Henry, who had looked red and ready to beat the fuck out of someone ever since he’d walked out of the principal's office earlier today. Suddenly, Patrick smirked at the beet red Henry, who’s fists were balled up and clenched so tight that I wouldn’t be surprised if his short nails somehow made their way into the skin of his palms. 
Click

ca-click

Henry took a warning step toward Patrick who almost instantaneously straightened up and pocketed his lighter. They locked eyes, already prepared for a brawl. Belch automatically dropped his lunch of a small cheeseburger onto the napkins that he'd put on the trunk of his car. Swiftly, he turned back around and slipped a nonchalant arm between the two as they predatorily approached each other. As calmly as he could, Belch interrupted the two with his calmest and most normal voice. "What're we doin’ for today?" He asks The question had been directed more toward Henry than anyone and that fact alone was seemingly obvious to everyone but Henry. Which wasn’t terribly surprising though since the boy was super dense. But still. Patrick and Victor seemed more focused on doing their own thing. All the while, Henry turned his attention downcast at the pavement in thought for a bit. If none of us knew any better we would’ve assumed that Henry was confused, but that was just how his thinking face was sculpted. As I took a drag of my cigarette, my eyes caught on Victor when he moved into my peripheral so that he now stood closer beside me. My eyes flickered over to take a look at him and I watched as he took a drag off of his very own cigarette. He made brief eye contact with Belch. They always did that, somehow communicating things to each other through their eyes and I didn’t understand it at all.  Then, just like that, with a sudden scoff after a short telepathic conversation with the hefty boy over towards my right, Victor turned away. He shook his head as smoke left his mouth and nose in an exhale. Victor crossed his arms over his chest and stared off into the distance. "Don't look at me,” Victor mumbles just loud enough for us all to hear “I've got nothing," Suddenly, someone inhaled, and we all directed our attention to Patrick, who smiled a wide smile as he prepared himself to speak. Instantly, my blank face hardened once his eyes met mine as he transferred them from all of our faces including Henry’s — which was still downcast and unfocused. "We could–" He begins However, he was interrupted. "You don't get to pick." Belch firmly states "Aww," Patrick whines, feigning some semblance of hurt "Why not?"  "Because,” Belch answers “ You picked last time ." " And.“ Victor adds, ”You and [First Name] almost drowned each other fighting in the quarry." I quietly huffed and instead of saying anything in reply to anyone, I took a drag of my cigarette. Maybe if Hockstetter wasn't such a scumbag, I wouldn't have tried to knock in his teeth in the first place. Maybe if he weren’t such an intolerable ass, he wouldn’t have ruined my entire summer in just one night. Maybe if he wasn’t such a total monster.. maybe.. maybe... Patrick walked around the other two and crept up beside me whilst I stared off into space, the memories making my stomach churn nauseatingly the more I thought and thought. Bringing an arm up and setting it on my shoulder, he leaned on me. I snapped out of my daze just enough to turn and punch him in the face with my good hand. I gritted my teeth, snarling. “ Don’t touch me, you — you —” I shout He stumbled back a couple of feet, blood gushing out of his nose for the second time today. I just shook my fist and cupped it into a cradle. Licking his lips to get some of the blood off, Patrick predatorily gazed over at me. Clearly full of energy, he began striding over. However, Belch stepped in front of me and thusly in between the two of us just as I pushed myself up off of the trunk, ready for a fight. He extended his arms out to keep us separated. “You did that one to yourself, Hockstetter.” Belch tells him firmly “Why ya always gotta cockblock me from a good rumble?” Patrick questions “Easy,” Belch answers ”You like ‘em too much.” "Shut the fuck up!" Henry suddenly barks "I don't give a fuckin' fuck what you two do in your free time. But I'm not tearin' you assholes off each other again this week!" "That was last, last week, Hank." Patrick corrects Henry immediately stomped up to Patrick. In about two seconds flat, Henry had given him a harsh shove that sent the already hurting Patrick stumbling back until he’d finally lost his balance and fell. However, Patrick just giggled childishly after his ass had collided with the pavement. He brought his hands up in an almost playful manner as he turned his head away in some version of a flinch, his twinkling corpse eyes never once leaving Henry's face. "Did I fuckin' ask you what fuckin' day it was, Cockstetter ?!" Henry snaps Now, when Henry was mad, he got loud. But this was a different kind of loud, though. The kind of loud that carried his voice across the parking lot " 'Cause I don't fuckin' think so! " He roars Belch quietly nudged me aside so that he could carefully insert himself between a fired up Henry and a snickering Patrick yet again. Belch hunched over Henry, much to Henry’s continued frustration. Angrily, Henry redirected his glare toward Belch, who just gave him that weird motherly look that he gave all of us whenever we were arguing and he had to separate us. Carefully and as if Henry was a delicate piece of china or a part of a coral reef, Belch carefully placed one hand atop the shoulder opposite his own body whilst the other extended out in front of him to keep him from getting any closer to Patrick. "Let it go, Hank." He murmurs to Henry Henry tried his best to push Belch's arms away and off of his body as Belch gently guided him away like a sheep dog guiding sheep or cattle. We all watched as they murmured to each other as Henry huffed and puffed in response. 
Why didn't he go to Belch for help last night?
 "Get offa' me," Henry spits "Fuckin'—get off! " Those words hit me like a wave and echoed in my head, bouncing around as the thoughts flooded me. Belch and Henry go back and forth, their conversation / minor argument sounding distant. It sounded distorted and barely-there as I glanced down at my hands. My eyes ran up and down my arms, the same ones that had once been locked together around the back of his neck whilst he said those exact words. In that moment, I felt exactly as I had felt then, except this time I wondered and thought something different. Did he always say it like that? Did he even realize? A gentle nudge brought me back to the present as I flicked the now finished cigarette onto the ground and crushed it out under the toe of my shoe. I had officially wasted it because I couldn’t seem to keep myself out of my own head. Great. Fantastic. Wonderful. 
Ugh.
 Another gentle nudge drew my attention over to Victor. My eyebrows furrowed as he purposely glanced down at his cigarette and then back up to me. My eyes followed his closely, flickering down to it before I reached down and plucked it from between his fingertips. I brought the butt up to my lips and took a drag off of the second-hand cigarette as my eyes turned over to a frustrated Henry and a trying-his-best Belch as they lightly bickered. I listened as their voices grew less distorted with the more drags I took. "Whatever," Henry suddenly snaps, throwing his hands up in the air "Fucking whatever ." 
Goddammit, Henry.
 After some coaxing from a slowly-growing-exasperated Belch, Henry finally walked back to his spot. He even snatched the cigarette right from between my lips as I took a drag. And for a split second, as his eyes met mine, time slowed. He gave me that look — the look of a kicked puppy that he'd given me last night — when I'd seen what was really underneath his dad's old bomber jacket and those long-sleeved shirts that he religiously wore — when he'd sniffled and hiccuped each time he'd breathed. It made that pang in my chest come back when he'd looked away, instead directing his attention back down at the ground. Time sped back up to normal speed and I broke out into a coughing fit as I inhaled air that I wasn’t ready to inhale. Underneath my coughs though, his work boots clumped against the ground, footsteps sounding heavier than they possibly actually were as gravel crunched against the bottoms of his boots. Henry returned to his spot on the opposite right end of the trunk where he quietly finished the cigarette he'd stolen from me — the one Vic had let me steal from him. 
Oh, Henry.
 After that, we were quiet. Ignoring the bustle around us continuing on as everybody else headed to eat lunch, even as Belch returned to his spot beside Henry, even as Victor pulled out his pack and his lighter, noise coming from it as he slid a cigarette out and put it between his lips, fidgeting with the now dead lighter that wouldn't light any longer; even as Patrick cheerfully pulled out his silver zippo and flicked it open, lighting it swiftly before putting the little flame to the end of the stick, we were quiet. At least until Patrick flicked the lighter shut and pocketed it. It was then that Henry spoke up. "My old man's gonna be gone for most of today, won't be back 'till later," Henry speaks up "We can hang out in the barn or somethin,' or do somethin' in the field." "Sure, Hank, maybe quiet is something we all need today." Belch replies, nonchalantly Now, the Bowers' Farm was quiet for the most part, less so than when his dad wasn't around. But, rather than completely dead silent because Butch is there, it was quiet in the sense that if you end up in the right spot you can hear the screams of the wildlife around you if not the farm animals from the surrounding area. But, the more I think about it, Henry's house was kinda small compared to the surrounding field and the big red barn way out back. Which probably helped the general quiet. Actually, I'm pretty sure Belch once said that if you stood up on the top of the barn — maybe where the rooster thing — you'd be able to see just about everything. But, that's probably because the barn itself was about three stories tall, even though it had only two floors. So, I guess that means that it was just like any other barn you'd see.  However, the only thing that made this one particular barn special was the fact that it had a small living area up on the second floor. It was a place where Henry would sometimes be when we came to visit or to hang out. Even though the living area wasn't much — it being nothing too fancy or particularly special — since it only really consisted of a queen size mattress, a box spring underneath that, and a headboard that wasn't attached to anything; it still rested up front between the mattress and the barn wall. Said headboard was an oaky color, having clearly been painted to look that way. Besides that, there was an old scratched up nightstand and atop it sat a dirty old lantern that was probably on its last legs.  Yet it still worked and that was a good enough reason to keep it. Not like another one would take its place if it did and other than that lantern, there wasn't much on the nightstand beside a carton of cigarettes that somehow managed to change brands every time I saw it. Like how one day it was blue camels, and then the next day it was marlboro regulars. Regardless, of the ever-changing brand, though, it would occasionally be empty — Unlike the drawers of the nightstand, which always had something in them. In fact, last I checked, there were a couple of lighters and some extra nudie magazines that couldn't fit in the already stuffed space between the box spring and mattress, and for once, there was no dead mouse.  And yeah, sometimes there'd be a dead mouse or something in there. I mean, hell already knows that there were a lot of them in this barn — dead or not. But sometimes, whenever we were all together, hanging out up there in that very living space, Henry would end up opening that drawer to get either a magazine or a lighter, and there it would be laying. There would be the small body of a mouse — sometimes curled up on itself, other times stretched out on it's back or it's side. The fur was almost always a chestnut-y brown and its paws were usually balled up into loose fists. And in those moments, when Victor would cringe, and Patrick would smile whilst reaching out to grab it, Henry would beat him to it. Every single time, in the same way, he'd pick up the little corpse by its tail with cold eyes and a snarl before carelessly tossing it out the same old window — into the previously mentioned field below. And the mouse would never be seen again. Sure, he used to miss, but after some practice, he'd gotten used to it — he'd gotten better. 
He'd always gotten better.
 Or so I thought, y’know, all the way up until he’d showed up at my house last night. 
Why can't I stop thinking about that?
 A hand is waved in front of my face, bringing my attention back to the present. "You comin’?" Patrick asks, teasingly "Or do I finally get to have Belch run your ass over?" I swatted his hand away, angrily. "He'd run you over before he ran me over.” I scoff ”At least Belch actually likes me." "Oh no.. my feelings.. you've .. hurt them." Patrick dramatically mocks before deadpanning "Do it again." I scoffed before I shoved him out of my way so that I could pass by him and round the car. Stopping at the back door on Patrick's side, where I took a moment to pop it open, I glanced up at him and shot him an intense glare. "In your dreams, Cockstetter." I hiss before climbing in "How did you know I dream of that?" Patrick asks in a half-joking half-genuine manner. Y’know, just like he did with almost everything else. I could swear up and down that his favorite pastime was making me as uncomfortable as humanly possible. Either way, without a thought to spare toward my reply, I set my hand on the top of the door, curling my fingers around it as I made solid eye contact with his grinning self. I offered a sickly sweet smile to him as I finally found my opening to take a genuine jab at him — something that would finally get under his skin. "Your mommy told me on Sunday, Pattycakes ." I quip, "Why don't you go with her anymore, huh?" Patrick's eyes turned dark and cold, his smile disappeared as his face went blank. With a wicked grin, I climbed into the car and got into my usual seat in the middle, completely satisfied. --- For a rather decent portion of the ride over to the Bowers' farm, Patrick, with the most expressionless face that I'd ever seen him — or anybody — ever wear, had been simply staring out of the window on his side in the back. This was definitely a bad sign. However, though, that freaky twig had brought it on himself. Just like Belch had said that he did. Or at least, that’s what I keep telling myself. Behind his oval-shaped head, I noted the many trees and bushes that passed by, along with the outer white line that had been painted onto the pavement. The trees and brush all collectively went in and out of my vision just like lightning strikes, only these just disappeared behind the edge of the window as Belch drove. The white line stayed in place though, seven ran alongside the car.. Although, I don’t think that Patrick was looking at the line, or the bushes, or the brush as they skated by. Eyeing him with a suspicious gaze, I silently sized his anger up. For all that I could tell, Patrick was really pissed off about what I’d gone and said to him earlier. Or, at least, that’s what I assumed; and as nice as it felt to experience, since he’d stepped in it by his own volition, it was still worrying. Patrick rarely ever got mad, he just got even. Which meant that I was skulking around in dangerous territory. Plus, with the inescapable labyrinth that was Patrick’s mind, and with his incessant tendency to go overboard when getting even, it seemed that I might’ve been in more trouble than usual.  Which meant that I’d stepped in it too. Distracted and dazed by my own brain labyrinth, it took a minute for it to click inside my head that a pair of shifty eyes had just danced my way, leaving me unable to break eye contact fast enough. His stare had already started to make my skin crawl and my stomach queasy and it made me so angry . Now having came back to this world, a bony hand was gently waved in front of my face. I gritted my teeth and sent daggers at him through my peripheral as I crossed my arms over my chest, protectively as the phantom feeling suddenly washed over me, making me feel even more sick. Patrick smiled, and it was a crooked thing, all teeth and a little bit of gums on his left side. He lowered his hand and dropped it into his lap. I let out a shaky breath, about to ask him just exactly why his freaky ass was smiling at me the way he was, even though I already knew why, but I was interrupted when the car abruptly turned with a quiet screech down onto a large dirt driveway, one that was all too familiar to us all, especially Henry. Turning my focus to what was ahead of me, that which was outside of the windshield, I waited as Belch pulled up alongside the ditch on the right side of the driveway and parked. After he shut the engine off, it clicked inside of me that we had just officially arrived at the Bowers’ farmhouse — Henry’s house.  Four car doors simultaneously popped open as everyone began to exit the vehicle. Belch had to take a second to make sure that he pocketed his keys so that he wouldn’t lose them because he did that pretty often. Henry was the first to get out of the car. I listened as Henry's boots plopped onto the dirt below, immediately kicking up a bit of dust. He shut the door behind himself just as everyone else — including myself — followed out after him.  Dust kicked up beneath our shoes and our boots as we each hit the dirt and walked atop said bone-dry dirt, around to the front of the Trans-Am where we all gathered up. Well, at least the gang gathered up whilst I lagged behind because my legs felt like total jelly. I guess the drive had been long enough to where I’d lost feeling in them because of how cramped it was in the back — even with how sickly skinny Victor was. I looked down at my feet and stuck my arms out for balance as I shut the door and made my way over to the gang, wobbling the whole way there. “Nice balance.” I heard Victor comment, jokingly “Hurry up, [Last Name].” Henry hissed “Quit dickin’ around.” I rolled my eyes after I'd accidentally made eye contact with a snickering Hockstetter from behind my hair. Dropping my arms and blowing said hair off of my [eyes/forehead], I begrudgingly trudged my way over to the front of the car, gently stomping with every step for most of the way until I’d regained the feeling in my legs and feet.  Upon arriving at my not-so-far-away destination, I stood around with the gang. Ahead of the hood of the Trans-Am, stood your average two-story farmhouse. It had a worn down white and grey color scheme and was equipped with both an attic and a basement. Around the building were tons of similar sized and styled rectangular windows that were all clean as a whistle. Through them, you could see that there were small white curtains with teeny salmon-colored flower details. You could also see that said curtains had been left open to assumedly allow the natural light into the house. And on the side opposite the driveway, rested the chimney that reached high over the roof, though I think it was only — if barely — used in the wintertime. Moving back down a few feet, though, the triangular roof was shingled and a dark grey with silver-colored metal gutters cupping the area underneath the edges. And the gutters had a single pipe running down alongside the front right corner of the house, which allowed whatever rainwater to drain out of the pipe toward the side of the porch. Speaking of which, said porch had a much flatter, more slanted than anything, type of roof. Plus it had one of those big American flags resting in one of those flag holders beside the porch entrance; and on the aforementioned porch, sat a simple wooden rocking chair and a swing that was attached to the ceiling on the opposite side of the rocking chair. Also, the back porch was in view from where Belch had parked the Trans-Am, and that had a slanted roof too. Though when it was compared to the front porch, it was more like a sunroom with all those windows and back glass doors. Overall, it was laid out plain and simple with its large surrounding property or rather, at least it was large when it was compared to the space surrounding the houses in and close to town. I think that Henry had mentioned once before that it was about three-hundred-twenty acres of land. Which supposedly wasn’t much, but still made for a pretty big property. And finally, the land is what brought my eyes down and around the driveway. Low and behold, his dad’s car wasn’t hastily parked in the driveway as per usual. So, what Henry had said seemed to be right; his dad was, in fact, not home. And, well, that wasn’t the only way to tell. For Ol’ Butch would’ve come out to give us some type of scolding by now, just like he always did whenever we all came over to hang around. Glancing over the mini-hills surrounding the driveway, where the ditch was laid out below, my eyes danced around the area until they paused. They'd landed the old barn, the one that had snatched me and had taken me so far away from reality earlier.  "What now?" Victor asks He stood to my left, sure. However, Victor’s voice was so quiet that I almost didn’t hear him say anything at all. But I wasn’t surprised in the slightest, don’t get me wrong. It’s just that sometimes Victor acted like his volume button was broken and he didn’t know how to fix it. Especially if he hadn’t said a single word in a while. Though, he was a pretty firm believer in ‘only speak when spoken to’ whenever it came to being around the rest of us — especially Henry and Patrick — and whether they were together or separate didn’t matter. "You wanna do some bottle shootin’?" Henry suggests "I know where my old man keeps his revolver when he's not home." Henry’s eyes remained cold and emotionless whilst Patrick’s eyes lit up in excitement as he happily nodded. Meanwhile, Belch, Victor, and I all exchanged concerned looks. But by the time we were all ready to look back at Henry, we realized that he’d already turned and started making his way toward the front porch steps of his house. Though, he did stop midway when he realized that the three of us hadn’t already begun following him like the little sheep we were. An angry scowl replaced his blank expression as he put his hands on his hips in the most masculine way that he could possibly manage. “Are you comin’ or not?” Henry snaps “Yeah, we’re comin’, Hank.” Belch immediately replies, obediently Belch then proceeded to trudge after Henry, with Victor following close behind him. Patrick didn’t matter because Patrick had immediately taken off after Henry the second he’d turned around, so they were walking side-by-side already. But I, however, stayed behind for a brief moment to glance over and stare longingly at the barn. It looked so lonely in the distance, which was weird for me to say because it was literally just a building.  My heartbeat slowed as I stared at the building while it did absolutely nothing. Though, despite nothing in particular happening with it as I stared it down almost fondly, I couldn’t seem to take my eyes away. It was like I was in some sort of trance because of it. Consciously, I lifted my arms up and put a couple of fingers to my chin as I rested my elbow in my cupped hand. I thought about that barn. More specifically, I thought about how much time we’d spent in it over the years. It had been one of my favorite places to go when we were younger, with it being such a big place to someone so small at the time. It’s funny how life is like that sometimes. Big things seem even bigger to you when you’re small and in some weird way, you can feel that. Scanning the front of the said barn, it suddenly becomes apparent that there was something inside, something yellow that stood about six-and-a-half feet or so off of the ground. And, with the more time I spent observing, the more clear it became that something was beginning to creep out of the open doors.  I couldn’t make it out at first with the barn being about a quarter-mile away from where I had stood. So, I narrowed my eyes and brought a hand up to cover them from the sun, kind of like how a sailor would when they were trying to spot land. From what I could tell, as the yellow went dim and something else began to come out, it was a small red blob emerging out of the barn, along with an even smaller something that assumedly held onto it. “ What the ..?” I murmur, trailing off  I turned to yell to Henry that something — possibly someone — was in his barn.  And that was when I heard the whisper as it went directly into my ear. 
You’ll float too.
 I quickly jerked away, swatting at my ear only to be greeted with nothing at all. And then I heard the boom. It sounded similar to what it sounds like when someone’s moving heavy furniture or something heavy on the floor above you.  My head whipped back around as I stepped back reflexively, only to end up tripping over my own leg. In the end, I ended up falling back on my tailbone and that admittedly hurt pretty moderately bad. Though, I was far too focused on the barn to care. Upon looking back up from the ground in front of me, I couldn’t see anything wrong with the barn at all and that was what confused me the most. I was so sure what with the boom and the whisper and everything. I was so sure for at least, like, one second, that something had gone and happened over there. I mean, didn’t I just see something creeping out of the barn? Something that was yellow and something else that was red? Glancing over at the guys with wild eyes, I opened and closed my mouth a couple of times, trying my best to figure out how to best explain myself. I mean, something yellow and something red started to come out of the barn? Oh god, how was I gonna explain that to Henry, the most judgemental person on the planet? Plus, everyone but Belch seemed to have those ‘what the fuck is wrong with you today?’ kind of expressions on their faces. So, basically, there was no saving myself from certain doom this time. “You’ve been acting like a freak all fuckin’ day!” Henry continues [Eye Color] eyes went downcast in shame as I immediately gave up on trying to explain away my panicked reaction to what was most likely just my over-active and fucked-up imagination.  Closing my mouth, I decided to try my best to avoid sounding like a schizophrenic bitchboy as our great and terrible leader screamed at me. “Sorry, Henry.” I apologize softly And then suddenly, an angel appeared.“Maybe [First Name] needs some water, Hank.” Belch jumps in to save me 
Ugh, my hero. My soft marshmallow knight, bless thee with the greatest-
 “Just get the fuck inside.” Henry growls “I ain’t got all day.” Honestly, why did he come to me for help if he was gonna act like he never got it in the first place. Oh wait. This is Henry I'm talking about. The others turned back around with their respective expressions. Victor wore one of subtle concern, Patrick wore one of excitement, and Henry wore one of irritation. Watching Henry closely, a pang swelled inside of my chest as Henry turned his back to me. In fact, Belch happened to be the only one who turned completely around and made his way back over to me. But I should've expected that.  Stopping above me, he extended his hand out for me to accept, and I did so as gracefully as I could with my broken tailbone and shattered pride—if I even had one in the first place, anyways.  “You okay?” Belch asks “Yeah.” I reply “Just dizzy.” I wasn’t lying all that much about being dizzy. I was always dizzy — and my mind was always foggy. I supposed that I just guessed that my head was just like that, dizzy and foggy on a constant loop every single waking moment. In my own way, I’d simply grown adjusted to it with time. It came with all of the sleep deprivation and hanging out with Henry Bowers, cause he could make you tired but not enough to sleep. Plus, how could I sleep right after last summer? No, seriously, I couldn’t figure it out. Shaking my head from those thoughts as they tried to creep up on me, I placed a hand on my forehead to drive my point home. Belch’s worried eyes gazed upon me, gently checking on my soul and inner core with a specially tailored kindness that I’d only ever seen him show to a couple people in all the years I'd known him. Roughly, he patted my back since he’d never really known his own strength all that well. “Let’s go get you some water.” Belch offers “Okay,” I reply shortly We quietly headed toward Henry’s house after that.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Heading inside the Bowers’ residence was one thing. Another much bigger thing was when Butch was actually home. Although, thankfully he wasn’t cause Butch was a scary guy, and he was the type of scary that only a power-hungry ex-cop would be. Screaming tore through the outer walls of the house as Belch and I opened the front door and I immediately recognized the screaming voice. For the shouting voice that was currently bouncing off of the dull wallpapered living room walls was, of course, Henry’s voice.  Swiftly, Belch left my side, essentially shoving me out of the way so that he could rush through the storage room and into the living room. Following behind him, I stepped in through the door and glanced over at the source. It was the brown recliner — the one that had been situated near the door and perfectly in front of the television. It was there that Henry stood, gesturing wildly and screaming at the pair of legs that comfortably dangled over the arm, one crossed over the other. The pair of legs that, judging by the skinny jeans covering them, belonged to Patrick.  Looking over at Henry, who looked like he was pulling his hair out or like he was going to break down crying at even the mere thought of Patrick being in that chair, prompted me to look away.  Of course, despite the clear rage on Henry's face, Patrick didn’t care because Patrick was too much of a dick to care. Just like I was too much of an exhausted lump of flesh to do anything to help, Belch was too much of a soft-hearted ball of privatized anger issues to stand up to Henry when he was wrong, and Victor was too busy trying to pretend he didn't care to do anything at all. We all had flaws. But, Patrick himself was a flaw — a blemish on the universe, if you will. Something that made you wanna say ‘oops’ out loud. Did I mention that he was a dick? Eventually, Patrick interrupted Henry’s ramblings and it was just as I'd finally twisted around to awkwardly pull the front door shut behind me. “I just don’t see why I gotta move, Hank.” Patrick taunts, “If your old man is out, then he’s probably on 'patrol' right? So he’s gonna be gone for a while.” Oh God, not the quotations. Henry was gonna pop his lid. “ Just get out of the damn chair, Hockstetter .” Belch’s authoritative tone suddenly booms I awkwardly made my way over to Belch, who stood on the side of the room opposite of me. He was clearly starting to get mad and who knows why. Maybe it’s because Henry and Patrick almost always argued every time they got together, or maybe it was because he was the one who always had to break up their fights. Glancing over at the chair, I watched as Patrick lifted his head off of his hand and moved his arm out of the way. Then, just when we thought he was going to get up, he flipped over so that his head hung over the armrest. He blinked almost owlishly for a moment, smiling a big, toothy smile. Henry lost it, demanding that he ‘get his goddamn fuckin’ feet off the chair.’ “Oh that’ll teach him.” Victor’s sarcastic tone snarks from the kitchen “Who’s side are you on anyway?” Belch snaps Holding a glass of water in his left hand, Victor suddenly appeared beside me. I guess his steps had turned silent thanks to Henry’s continued screaming that was still directed toward Patrick who casually argued back. “My own, obviously.” Victor replies softly once he got close enough “Figures.” Belch scoffs Victor, with his classic expression of general indifference, quickly turned his attention to me. Nonchalantly, he extended the glass of water out to me and my eyes flickered between him and it, confusedly. Victor rolled his eyes and extended the glass closer to me as if to tell me ‘yes, it's for you, dumbass.’ Still unsure of the gesture, I accepted it and almost took a sip when he interrupted me. “I drank some,” Victor confesses casually ”Don’t have a cow.” I froze. As if the muscles in my body had immediately locked up like they were gears. I stood there, staring at him like a deer in headlights. My mind went blank and then completely shut down on me, leaving me lost and forgetful of where I was for a moment as it took me somewheres I didn't one it to go.. “–.. tap water,” I hear And just like that, a hand reached deep into the ocean of my thoughts where it grabbed me by my hair and dragged me out and back onto the land. I blinked and just like that I was back in Henry's living room. Confused, I fixed my eye contact with Victor, who watched me with suspicious eyes. “What?” I ask “The water. It’s tap.” He answers “Oh,” I reply lamely “Okay.” Still on autopilot and not in complete control, I threw it back like a shot and gulped the water down as fast as I could. All the while I pretended that Victor wasn’t giving me the look that he was giving me but of course, no matter how hard I tried to convince myself that he wasn’t, Victor was still giving me that concerned look that only he could ever give me. The one that screamed ‘put all the secrets in the fucking bag’ right in my face.  Unlike Belch’s look, Victor’s made me feel all weird inside, like I’d done something seriously wrong and needed to repent as fast as possible. I hated it. Then again, I hated a lot of things—things like Patrick and things like last summer. Those things I will never forget, those things will haunt me for the rest of my life.  At least it seemed that way. “Why are you so sentimental over your daddy’s chair, Henry?” Patrick teases snarkily, ”He’s not even here .” “Hockstetter, I swear to God I’m gonna fucking kill you!” 
Thump!
 It had happened so suddenly that none of us had had enough time to react fast enough to prevent it from happening in the first place. For you see, when our attention all snapped over toward where Henry and Patrick were, Belch, Victor, and I quickly realized that Henry had literally picked Patrick up out of the chair and thrown the taller boy onto the floor. Though, we had only just looked over during the back end of the whole thing — the part where Henry jumped on top of Patrick and pinned him down by straddling his waist so that he could start throwing punch after punch as he screamed and shouted in Patrick’s face, most likely spitting all over him in the process. Suddenly, Belch left my side with a loud shout of 'Hey!' and Belch could move fast when he wanted to but when something like this happened, it's like he could teleport. He quickly got behind Henry and once he got his bearings, he struggled for a moment to wrap his arms under Henry’s armpits so that he could pull Henry off of Patrick, who had only just recently started throwing punches back. Beet red and hopping mad, Henry started thrashing around almost exactly at the second that Belch had gone and touched him. Millions of curses fire out of Henry’s machine gun of a mouth, operating almost as fast as Belch was. Meanwhile, Victor and I watched from the sidelines, somehow completely stunned at what was unfolding right before our very eyes. We weren't surprised, just stunned. Normally, they don't get physical until later in the day and, yeah, of course there would be punches thrown here and there throughout, but that was more expected. Patrick and Henry were like oil and water, after all. And I still didn't understand why Henry kept him around. I watched and listened. I listened to Belch’s desperate cries for Henry to calm down, Victor’s occasional comment, and Patrick’s antagonizing words. However, none of it seemed to register in my processing unit. In fact, the only thing that did register was the oncoming headache that washed over the inner portions — the ones that lay hidden behind the walls of my worn down skull — the ones that still worked decently well. My vision narrowed as I reached up to rub my temple with my free hand. Before I knew it, everyone was yelling and arguing around me — even Vic was yelling. How am I supposed to think about anything with all of this screaming and yelling? Do I start yelling too? How am I supposed to do anything with this headache? God, why did I even agree to come here? Oh right, because Henry chose this time. 
Henry.
 I glanced over at him, my eyes running over his messed up face. I noticed how blood leaked down from his nostrils, down over his lips, where it dripped off of his chin and onto his black shirt where it disappeared. His lower lip was also split on the right side, but not too badly. His mouth kept on opening up wide and every time it opened up, something came out. Although it was mostly raspy yells of various jabs that were directed towards Patrick, who’s right eye was already starting to swell by the time he’d picked himself up off the floor—all thanks to Henry’s legendary right hook. Still though, Patrick was grinning when he'd stumbled up to his feet, holding his hurt eye. Tearing my eyes off of the freaky stick man and instead turning them to Belch, I watched as he struggled to get Henry over his hip and behind his back. He wasn’t trying to flip Henry. Oh no, no, no, Belch wouldn’t dare . ‘Cause no matter how much he wanted to — and I could tell just from the mixed expression on his face that he really wanted to — Belch would never do that to Henry. Partially because Henry would have his head and partially because he cared too much to really hurt Henry — most of the time anyway. For Belch wasn’t a foreigner when it came to a classic Bowers Gang brawl or two. He could get into it just like Henry and Patrick could, and it was the same with Victor and me. We all just... cumulatively got into it sometimes. Eventually, Belch gave up on getting the enraged Henry far, far away from the loud, antagonizing Patrick; and since flipping him over on his ass was out of the equation, Belch opted for the easier alternative. In a couple of simple movements, he’d brought his hands around to the back of Henry’s neck and interlocked his fingers together. And after cautiously kicking Henry’s legs out, treating both of them as if they were fragile china that he was testing the durability of, Henry was swiftly dropped down onto his knees in front of Belch where he continued to struggle around as he was locked into a full nelson. So, since Henry was now screaming his head off at Belch, Belch started yelling because he would always yell once he finally got mad enough. As Belch started finally shouting at Henry to ‘calm his ass down’ I turned my gaze over to an aggravated, shouting Victor. Now, when Victor got mad, it was always a bit amusing to witness because of how he would use his hands to gesture his points out in an attempt to help himself get heard by the rest of us. Sometimes it helped, especially since our angry yelling voices were much stronger than his. In fact, he kind of sounded somewhat feminine when he yelled and don’t get me wrong, that wasn’t a bad thing because it had made for some pretty funny situations. Like the time in middle school when we’d planted a giant fake spider in his locker and he’d screamed so loud that a teacher actually came out of her classroom to ask us if the ‘little girl screaming in the hallway was okay’ or something like that. Either way, that one was pretty good. Occasionally, Victor would throw in some personally seasoned snips and jabs at Patrick since Patrick had seemingly gotten bored of Henry and Belch not paying attention to him. I guess he was just working to piss everyone off at this point. So anyway, of course nobody was happy with anybody at this point, as we had just gotten into the first verbal and partially physical brawl of the week. But, eventually, they’d all get over themselves and calm down in the end. “Vic, shut the fuck up!” Belch shouts “You’re not helping!” “Oh, fuck you!” Vic claps back “At least I’m not butt-fucking Henry in a full nelson!” “The fuck did you just fuckin’ say, Criss?” Henry screeches “You know damn well that’s not what’s happening!” Belch roars 
But when would they calm down ?
 Still lost in my thoughts and still rubbing my temple with one hand, I continued surveying the land before me. Which meant that it was at this point that I accidentally made eye contact with Patrick, who decided to open his mouth to me. “Jeez, [Nickname], you look tired.” He pointed out I rolled my eyes in reply and took a sip of my water. I turned my attention back to him just in time to watch as he licked his lips and prepared himself for his next, much quieter, sentence. “Why don’t you come n’ lay down with me again?” He mouths Patrick smirked as he nonchalantly gestured to the large recliner with a single hand. In an instant, I came close to spitting out my water. Instead, though, I slapped a hand over my mouth and harshly choked it down, only coughing up a little bit. My stomach churned at the utter thought. Thankfully though, no one noticed. They just heard my choking. “ Shut up, [First Name] ! ” The three musketeers roar in unison 
I would if I could!
 I would explain it to them if I could, I would explain it all if it were easy enough for me to. Well, maybe not to Henry, but to Victor and Belch — I would love to be able to explain everything that had sent last summer crashing and burning for me. However, as the memories echoed in my head, effectively consuming me in one vicious gulp whilst the venom seeped into my processing unit I noticed him getting up off of the floor. It was then that I felt the feelings that I had felt in the summer. He stalked his way past Henry and Belch, all the way up to me. Defensive rage bubbling up inside of me and finally, I passed my glass to Victor, interrupting the sentence of rage and distaste that was about to be directed toward either Belch or Henry — I didn’t know which, it could’ve been both for all I knew — it swiftly clicked inside my head. “What? Why are you giving me this–” Victor stops I took a couple steps forward, nearly bumping chests with the greasy scumbag. I suddenly spun, kicking my leg up until my shoe connected with the side of Patrick's face. 
Smack!
 Everyone fell silent, watching as Patrick went down, with an ugly thud he hit the ground where he ended up down for the count. I stared down at him, struggling to keep myself composed as I processed what I'd just done.  Virtually unfazed, yet inwardly on the verge of crying as the memories continued to haunt my dazed brain, I stared down at the live corpse on the carpeted floor for a bit before I finally looked up at the rest of the gang. Belch and Victor watched me with somewhat shocked expressions and I completely understood why. For I’d never done that to Patrick — or anyone, really — full force before because I didn’t want to deal with the consequences. However, this time, I didn’t know what happened. I wasn’t in full control of my actions. I think that I just went on autopilot again but why? Autopilot was usually reserved for getting me out of bed and ready for the oncoming day in the morning. Why would it be used here? I could feel vomit creeping up my throat as Henry broke out of Belch's now loosened hold. Henry sharply stood up, going so fast that he had to catch his balance. “Take Hank upstairs, [First Name].” Belch tells me And after he had moved away from Belch — initially stumbling who knows where — he tripped over Patrick. Quickly noticing this, I automatically stepped forward a couple of steps and caught Henry. Gently, I grasped both of his biceps and steadied him though he quickly shoved me off with a short glare as he tried to continue on toward the stairs. 
I guess that’s where he was initially headed?
 “I don’t gotta go upstairs with nobody!” Henry argues “I can go up by myself!” “Sure, Henry.” I reply ”We know that.” Henry whipped around with a bitter scowl spread across his face. I just stared back with a blank face along with what felt like dead fish eyes — because no matter what I did at that time, I would always feel like a corpse — a shell of myself — of what I could’ve and would’ve been if I’d never gotten involved with Patrick J. Hockstetter. I wrapped my arms around myself as Henry eyed me angrily, his deep scowl still spread across his face as he glowered in my direction. Childishly, he crossed his arms over his chest, daring me to follow him upstairs. But as Henry glanced around the room for backup, all he saw was a fallen Patrick, an indifferent and subtly worried Victor, and a stern, slowly calming Belch, who wasn’t gonna be having any more of his or Patrick’s shit today, assumedly. “Fuckin’- Whatever! ” He dismisses Angrily, Henry threw his arms up into the air and stormed off up the stairs. I just watched with the others, patiently waiting for him to turn around and yell at me for not following after him right away.  But, that moment never came.  Quietly, I glanced over at Belch, doing my best to tune out his obvious worry as he gestured upstairs. With a small sigh and a minorly defeated tilt of my head, I finally headed over and up the stairs after Henry. The thump of my speedy steps echoing through the near-silent house with the only other noise being something that comes out of Belch’s mouth and is directed toward the most likely still out-cold Patrick. Whatever it was, it was something that Victor agreed with. Upon reaching the final step, Henry continued on across the upstairs floor. Closely, I ascended after him whilst he disappeared into the upstairs bathroom which was the first door on the left. Hurriedly, I attempted to follow inside after him. However, he simply slammed the door shut in my face when I tried that. In all honesty, though, I probably looked like a lost puppy with how I was following after him like that. Holding my stinging nose for a second, a twinge of pain jumped within my chest, catching me by surprise and causing me to slap my hand over it — the ‘it’ being my heart.  Honestly, what the fuck was wrong with me? Had I always had these issues whenever it came to Henry? And if I did then when did they start? I’d been around the guys for years and yet I still couldn’t recall a single fucking time when my chest had hurt like this every time Henry did literally anything. These and various other thoughts spun around inside my head, making me dizzy yet again and yet, this twinge of pain seemed to be the only thing that woke me up from my constantly looping track of fogginess, even if it was only for a moment. I mean, even getting punched in the face didn’t wake me up this much and I’d been punched in the face plenty of times over the years. A shuffling and a ruffling followed by the sound of a cabinet sluggishly creaking open brought me out of my thoughtfulness and it was then that I found myself leaning up against the bathroom door. I put my ear up to it and gave a little knock. “Henry?” I call, quietly With a snap from God's fingers, the beast himself was summoned from inside the bathroom. “I’m takin’ a piss,” Henry tells me sharply ”Don’t come in.” “Sure, Henry.” I reply “I’ll just.. wait out here.. for you” “I don’t need no goddamn babysitter.” He huffs Moving away from the door, I stepped back over to the wall that was positioned opposite of it. Slowly, I slid down onto the floor where I hugged my knees against my chest. Wrapping my arms around them, I patiently waited outside of the bathroom for Henry to finish ‘taking a piss.’ if you could even call it that. I mean, as weird as it felt to be listening, that didn’t change the fact that I still didn’t hear any related noises. Sitting with my back against the wall, I untucked my legs from my chest and instead spread them out, moving to sit more comfortably. A tired arm rested on my thigh, my elbow digging into it and most likely leaving an imprint there. But hey, it was something that allowed my spinning head to rest. I stared at the floor, my eyes scanning for shapes as I ran my fingertips over the wood absent-mindedly. Without a sound, I listened to the quiet rustling from inside the bathroom with confusion. What could he possibly be looking for? A stairway to heaven? The entrance to Narnia? Probably not.  Unless... 
No, that’s stupid. Movies aren’t real like that.
 I bit my tongue and willed myself against asking him questions like ‘Are you okay?’ and ‘About this weather we’re having.’ Especially since that would only serve to make The Great and Terrible Henry Bowers even angrier than he already was.  Instead I just kind of sat there and waited for him to come back out of the bathroom. Which — might I add — ended up feeling like an eternity and part of me thought that I could've sworn up and down that I’d aged a couple of years while waiting for him, but don’t quote me on that. Eventually though, Henry opened the door and came out of the bathroom. Quickly, I noticed him tugging his sleeves down over his wrists. So, I glanced up at him, clearly confused. After all, I’d expected to hear less rustling and more... Eugh.   Henry huffed as he stared daggers down at me from where I was on the floor. His shoulders rose up as he tried to make himself look bigger, kind of like how small animals do whenever they felt threatened by a predator. However, I was already far too used to him, his ways, and his demeanor, so that method didn’t exactly work on me. “What are you starin’ at?” He snaps defensively “And why the fuck are you on the fuckin’ floor?” “I was waiting for you,” I explain “Whatever.” He dismisses “Get up.” Henry wiped off the blood under his nose with his sleeve, which took off a bit of the blood but not all of it. My eyebrows knitted together at this and I thought to myself before I stood up. If he was in there then why didn’t he clean up? Then I remembered how I had had to convince him to take a shower last night, and it made sense. Upon standing up, I dusted myself off from the dirtiness that decorated the floor and in doing this, I noticed that Henry’s mumbling self had already started to walk off in the direction of the bedrooms, which were opposite the stairs. I started debating with myself on what to say. I mean, what would I have even said to him? Should I have done what I did last night and attempted to convince him? Should I have just left it alone and let him deal with it? Well, he’d never deal with it, but the gist was there to be gotten. I struggled with myself before I’d stuttered out a bit of a word soup that seemingly got his attention. Henry turned around, once again scowling when he looked at me. He looked like a frustrated parent when he made that face and put his hands on his hips. Like, the kind that would be tapping their foot as they waited for their misbehaving child to stop doing whatever they were not supposed to be doing so that the child could come over to them and receive their beating. Henry didn’t tap his foot, or have a kid. I’d hoped. He was only sixteen. “What?” He barks “What about your nose?” I question “What’d’ya mean?” He counters “Your nose..” I point out “It’s.. bloody.” “So?” He huffs “I can fuckin’ handle it.” Henry reached up to wipe off more of the blood, only this time he’d used his hand. And that was when I had heard myself tell him to ‘wait here’ before I headed into the bathroom and started to look around. He needed to clean up so that he didn’t have all that blood on his face, I told myself, or else his dad would probably bombard him with questions or something — questions like ‘what happened to your face’ and ‘It’s worse than usual’ or something like that. As I thought to myself, I found myself looking around everywhere. I looked in the bathroom cabinet, above the toilet, behind the mirror, and finally underneath the sink where I found what I was looking for. It was a white washcloth that was positioned right next to.. a boxcutter? 
Whatever.
 Wordlessly, I pulled out said washcloth from the musty area that was the area underneath the sink and brought it up to the outside world. Bringing it up and putting it underneath the faucet, I did my best to wet it with decently lukewarm water since Henry would probably end up complaining if it were too hot or too cold. Then, after wetting it, I wrung it out so that it didn’t drip too much onto the floor below before I carelessly plopped it down onto the marble sink top, directly on the left corner. Stepping back out of the bathroom, I weakly gestured for Henry to come in, which he begrudgingly did. Bitterly, he walked over to the toilet after I went ahead and put the lid down. Ignoring the fact that it hadn't been left up like how it would be if he were pissing at my place.  But hey, I was just being a freaky, sleep-deprived weirdo like usual. Picking up the washcloth, I approached him and gently set my free [left/right] hand down on top of his [left/right] bicep. I watched as his face changed from a deep, angry frown to a minor wince when I touched his shoulder, and immediately, I got confused again. His biceps didn’t seem to hurt him earlier when I had touched them as I tried to catch him. But then again, maybe I just didn’t notice? I don’t know. Either way, I did my best to ignore my thoughts as I gently began dabbing the washcloth on his lip before I started working my way toward his bloody upper lip and his less bloody cleft. Then, after gripping his bicep a little too hard, I suppose, Henry abruptly shoved my hand away.  “Can you be careful?” He shouts ”Fuck.” “Sorry, Henry.” I apologize “Did Patrick hurt your shoulders?” “It’s none of your fuckin’ business.” He snaps “Okay,” I reply, dumbly “Do you wanna do it?” Then straightened up, I extended the washcloth out to him and waited for him to take it. However, Henry’s baby blues just flickered from the washcloth to my face and back again every few seconds. All as he bitterly cocked a single eyebrow and slowly crossed his arms over his chest. With raised eyebrows I gestured to him with the cloth, attempting to get him to accept it since he clearly wasn’t happy with how I was doing things. “Why the fuck are you always tryin’ to fuckin’ clean me?” He nearly snits “First a fuckin’ shower and now this?” Without a shred of realization clicking within my head or literally anywhere else — and I don’t just mean my processing unit — I blurted out a reply to him. “You needed that shower,” I tell him And then, suddenly what Henry had just said clicked inside my head and I felt my face flush almost immediately. So, he remembered last night! And here I was starting to think that I was crazy and imagined the whole fucking thing.  “Wait,” I pause. ”You’re serious?” “About what?” Henry asks Without me noticing, I guess I squeezed the wash cloth and some water leaked off of the cloth and onto Henry’s jeans, soaking holes that began to soak up into the fabric and gather up together. All the while, I just gawked at him like I was stupid and my brain had just completely shut down — and essentially, it had. Aggressively, Henry swatted my hands away from his person, causing me to retract the washcloth from where it was originally held out to him. “Goddammit, get that fuckin’ thing away from me!” He complains ”It’s fuckin’ getting me wet!” “Sorry, Henry.” I apologize “And stop fuckin apologizing!" He adds “It’s fuckin’ annoying.” “Right,” I reply, automatically Instantly, I shut my mouth in an effort to ensure that I wouldn’t get myself into a fight with Henry or something. Fights with Henry were never fun and almost always ended up with me walking off. It would be then that the guys would have to come to get me, calm me down, and convince me to come back. Usually by Belch yelling at me to ‘get in the damn car’ when he got mad, or even with Victor offering to acquire and give me cigarettes.  I reached and rubbed my tired eyes with a single hand, hoping that it would stop them from trying to droop. Henry was really starting to drain me. “Anything else?” I continue Now, in my defense, I was tired and on autopilot. So I still wasn’t completely in control of my actions. Henry, however, was completely in control of his own actions. “Fuck you!” Henry roars “Don’t fuckin’ start with me, [Last Name]!” Sharply, Henry stood up in front of me just as I’d finished rubbing my eyes and before I really could process it, just as my eyes opened back up, his hands were suddenly on my chest, pushing me backward. Immediately, the small of my back was slugged into the unforgiving ledge of the cabinet and a harsh pain shot up through the entire area all the way up my spine where it went into my neck. At the same time, my foot slipped on the washcloth that I’d dropped when he’d initially shoved me and I went shakily slumping down the cabinet. I even managed to hit the back of my head on the top shelf, which didn’t help any with the pain.  Then just like that, I was finally sitting down on the ground, aching and seeing through blurry eyes. I released a small noise of pain as I reached up to touch my further aching and desperately spinning head. All the while, Henry carelessly brushed past me. It was at that moment that I found something much more aggressive than the last kind of pang that kicked me in the heart, almost throwing it out of rhythm. My head spun as I struggled to figure out what I said to him that made him so upset, but I couldn’t think with all of the spinning and excess fogginess. I brought my other hand up to join the one that was already on my aching forehead, and dangled my head into my hands. I listened as Henry’s distorted thundering footsteps exited the room and I almost reached out to him.  Fuck . However, Henry was already gone out of the room and storming off down the hallway. Now he was possibly even more pissed off than he already was. All because I decided to open my mouth. 
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Everything hurt. 
 Everything hurt and my vision was really fuzzy, but I still stayed like that for a long time — just sprawled out against the cabinet. There wasn’t much to do otherwise besides gather myself back up and regain my vision. Painfully lurching off of the cabinet, I reached over with one violently shaking hand and flailed it about blindly until I finally rediscovered the toilet. I brought my other hand up and latched it onto the porcelain seat so that I could force myself upright. My teeth grinded together as the aching rattled around my skull. Though I tried not to pay it too much attention. I nearly puked when the hand gripping the toilet bowl slipped and dunked itself completely into the filthy water. Gagging, I hurriedly hauled my ass over to the sink and turned the faucet on just as my sight started to finally clear. Ignoring whatever temperature I'd started with, I cupped my hands together underneath the running water and used some bar soap to wash them, and after getting them clean enough for me to be satisfied, I splashed some of the water on my face. Carefully, I did that a few more times in order to calm my fiery nerves. Henry and I, along with the rest of the gang, had gotten into it before. We had doctors notes going back years to prove that, so this was nothing new. But this pain — this pain was new. Henry had gotten mad at me — at the rest of the gang — plenty of times before. But this just felt different. Splashing my face one last time before I twisted the knobs and turned the water off, I glanced up with the intention of finding a towel to dry my face; but the only thing I got out of that was my reflection in the mirror. I turned my head to each side a couple of times as I scanned my face, taking in the details. It’d been a while since I’d really taken the time to look into a mirror. Hunching over the sink, ignoring the aching in my back, I took a closer look and I didn't like what I saw. Bags lined the underside of [eye color] eyes that could barely keep themselves fully open. Lightened [skin color] skin remained flushed at all times, offering a sickly look — and I couldn’t tell if it was because I’d hit my head or if I was just genuinely that fucked up lately.  I put a hand on my face and tugged the skin down from my eye. The pink was prominent enough to be noticeable if you were up close enough but I didn't understand why someone would be that close to my face. 
Give us a little kiss, [Nickname]. You know you want to~
 I turned away from the mirror, nauseated. Discomforted shuddering forced itself up through my spine as my intrusive thoughts corrected me. I knew why someone would be that close to my face and I just couldn't fucking stand it. It made my stomach churn and my skin crawl. It made me feel disgusted with myself — made me want to step into Henry's nasty shower right then and there just so I could turn it on, crank it as hot as it would go so I could just sit there, fully dressed and curled up into a ball until my skin was red and burning. With a choked noise, I dug my nails into the corners of the sink counter before I desperately reached up and opened the little mirror. Looking around, I sorted through both differently and similarly styled pill bottles before I found the one that I needed. ‘Tylenol ’ was what it read in a red squared off font. Hurriedly twisting the bottle open, I dumped some capsules into my open palm, not bothering to count how many were there or even check the dosage before I shoved them into my mouth and swallowed them dry. After having put away the bottle and shut the mirror, the taste finally hit. I hadn't even thought to use tap water, I hadn't even thought about anything besides the imaginary bugs crawling across my skin, the ache in my back, and in my head. It wouldn’t have done me any good anyway. Spinning around on my heels after noticing the silhouette of Henry passing by the open bathroom door, I hobbled out after him. I had to join the others downstairs soon, or else Henry would probably get all mad again and who knows what would happen then. He’d probably break my ankle or something — or maybe smash a small clock over my head. 
Now isn’t the time for jokes, [First Name].
 Careful with my body, I struggled a couple of steps down the small hallway and then down the stairs. From what I could see, Henry, who now wore a different shirt — this one having been colored a light brown — had already reached the bottom and rounded the railing to disappear down the downstairs hallway. I watched as he bitterly shoved his way past Patrick, who stood beside the bottom step behind the railing, and had whispered something to Henry that left him giggling mischievously.  Of course, Patrick was still trying to piss everybody off. I had to hold onto the railing for support because I’d almost fallen a couple of times, which made my trip all the more stressful. Meanwhile, thoughts struggled to dance their way around my head as it spun and spun and the only thing that seemed to not be subconsciously acknowledged was that part of me that still hadn't processed what had just happened. However, with the constant loop of spinning and the sluggishly receding ache in my back and my head, I wasn't sure if I would be able to anytime soon. 
You said that last summer too.
 Everything grew more intense when I made eye contact with Belch and Victor, who still stood around in the living room. Upon seeing me, the duo shared a look. Victor started fidgeting with his nails and pushed himself off of the wall next to the door — the one that he had been leaned up against. He started towards me, but I just held up my hand to stop him. Today was definitely not the day for Victor to out himself for being a softie. Plus, I didn’t want the attention. It made me sick. Poorly stifled giggling came from beside me and when I looked over to the side as I stepped down from the last step, I saw Patrick. He was choking away into his hand like he had just seen the funniest thing when he was trying to be serious. But Patrick was never serious.  “What happened to you, [Nickname]?” Patrick’s finally gets out from in between his giggles I shot a glare up at him, now fuming. Victor slapped his hand against his face from behind me, muttering a 'that's not a fucking apology, you stupid fuck.' and 'why did he have to wake up?' Patrick only stared back down at me, now laughing out loud and right in my face. Angrily, I grabbed him by his shirt and shoved him back into the railing. Wordlessly, I hobbled past him and into the kitchen, the only thought in my head at the time being 'I need some water.' Patrick maniacally cackled from behind me as I stormed into the kitchen, and it wasn't even quieted down by Belch's shouts. “Shut it, Hockstetter!” Belch booms “It’s your goddamn fault!” I grabbed a cup off of the kitchen table as I passed by it and hobbled around said table in order to go over to the sink. Upon reaching my destination, I stuck my cup under the faucet and turned it on, silently listening to the water running as I mentally ran through all of the events from last night and today, making sure that I stopped to ask myself questions that I didn’t know the answer to — questions like ‘why me?’ and ‘when can I go to bed?’ After having filled my glass, I shut the water off and turned to the kitchen table. I stared at it as I took a long sip, silenting praying that I'd just drown myself in the water within the little cup. I ignored the realization that Victor had already poured me a glass of tap water and instead of dumping this one out and going to get it, I continued sipping from my new glass. I didn't want to go back out there. Not with that scuzzbag still out there. My processing unit took its sweet time sorting through the events that had been playing on a looping slideshow in my head all day. Meanwhile, I just stared, dazed, at the kitchen island. Occasionally I'd find myself taking sips of my water, other times, I'd just be staring. I watched as the table fell away, becoming a broken down Henry, who stood beside my bed, his eyes downcast in shame as sparkling, hot tears trickled down his cheeks. He couldn’t even look me in the eyes once I finally saw him in the light — once I finally saw all of him in the light.  
I need to stay for a little bit.

Don't have a cow or anything.
 My vision grew bleary once again, except this wasn’t the same blurriness that I’d experienced before. It was the kind that came with warm things trickling down my cheeks. Once again dipping out of my daze, I confusedly set down my glass and reached up with both hands in order to wipe my face clean. I moved my hands down just so that I could observe them. I turned my hand every little which way, staring down at the little sparkly droplets that had smeared against my fingers. 
Oh, don’t have a cow, [First Name]. The others might hear you.
 Vomit — I wanted to fucking vomit. I wrapped my arms over my chest protectively, trying to ignore the phantom touches that made me want to scream. I tried to close my eyes, but it only made the images more vivid. I tried covering my ears to get away from that voice he'd used — the one that dropped honey and blood from his lips — but he only got louder. I gritted my teeth, spinning around to stare at the counter as I wrapped my arms back around myself. I could feel it, I could feel everything.  Jesus, what was happening to me? Tears continued pouring down my eyes as I shakily reached out and picked up the glass of water. Bringing it to my lips, I took a sip. 
You ruined my summer you fucking freak! You ruined my summer and my life! I hate you!
 That’s what I'd wanted to say to him after it was finally over. I'd wanted to just come out of the woods from my initial piss break making a big fuss about it, maybe grab a flaming stick from the campfire and beat him with it, but I didn’t. Instead, I just picked myself up off the grassy ground beneath me and redressed before I went back to the campsite. I'd just silently grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniel’s and headed to bed inside of mine and Victor’s shared tent for bed — even though the alcohol in my system wouldn’t let me sleep at all at that time. I threw my head back and chugged the water down like it was an entire bottle of — well, some sort of alcohol. I pressed myself painfully into the counter. At first, I dug my nails into the counter, my clammy hand sliding further and further away from my body, I ended up slipping back into the counter. Stupidly, I choked on my water and set the glass down so that I could cough up the water that I’d inhaled in what was supposed to be a gasp of pain. As a jolt of pain had once again gone all the way up from my spite into my tailbone and neck.  And then the clarity hit, drawing on me for only a moment. I was stupid enough to have forgotten and not noticed, and for that moment, I was genuinely hurting, not just physically, but emotionally too. Steps approached the kitchen as the Bowers' house went silent once more. My heart thumped painfully within my chest as I waited for Henry to walk past the room that I was currently situated in. Internally, I prayed that he wasn't going to be coming in because the tears had started up again and they'd sent me into an internalized fit that I didn't plan on taking out on anybody that wasn't Patrick J. Hockstetter himself. Even though Henry seemed to be the one shoving me into things lately. The footsteps passed by the entrance to the kitchen, leaving me thankful and nearly choking on the shaky breaths I'd contained. Still though, a pang kicked up in my chest when he hadn't come in and I found myself dumbly wishing that he would try to give back some of the comforts that I’d initially given him last night. 'Cause dammit, even if I hadn't known what I was doing, I thought I'd accidentally unlocked something inside of me — something that had been hidden away.  Or maybe it was him who unlocked it?  Either way, I concurred that a door of something, somewhere, someway had been opened up and I didn’t like it. Lost in my thoughts, biting my nails as if I were Victor, I gripped my glass before making my way over to the sink so I could get a refill. The water had seemed to be the only way to wash away the uncomfortable sadness off of my chest, even if it didn't have the currently needed side effects of some — if any type of booze. At that time, it had been the best that I could do to nurse my literally aching heart, especially since the pangs had bumped up quite a bit. The water managed to drown out most of the sounds around me, which is why I didn't notice anybody coming into the kitchen. At least, not until he leaned against the counter and whispered something into my ear. "So, how are your parents, [Nickname]?" Patrick whispers sweetly His arms attempted to wrap around me but I sharply recoiled, instantly jumping ten feet away from him so fast that I banged my hip against the counter ledge. I hissed as my head whipped around so that I could bare witness to Patrick as he giggled to himself. I gripped the glass in my hand tightly as water spilled all over me and went onto the grimey tiled kitchen floor where it pooled underneath my wetted shoes. Patrick was very lucky that I didn’t have any reflexes that had to do with immediately throwing a punch like Victor did whenever he was startled. He was very, very lucky. "What's wrong, [Nickname]?" Patrick teases "Not one for confrontation? That's rich." Defensively, I straightened my back, even though it hurt to do so. Ignoring the pain to the best of my ability and puffing out my chest as the adrenaline shot through my system, I mustered up a glare that was always reserved just for the ugly forest floor decoration himself, the one, the only, freaky stick. "Unless you want a glass to the face or another kick to the face, then I highly suggest you get the fuck away from me." I hiss "Awh," Patrick purrs, stepping closer with a false pout "You don't like spending time with me?" Patrick took enough steps toward me to where he was able to cage me against the kitchen counter with his long arms. I rapidly glanced around, avoiding his vomit green eyes as I instead looked at the walls, the counter, down at the glass in my hand, everywhere. There was nothing in reach that I could grab onto, nothing, and I couldn't break the glass because Henry would kill me and his dad would beat my corpse until it was unrecognizable and therefore unable to be identified by the coroner. Desperate, I shouted loud enough for Belch and Victor to hear — maybe even Henry. One of them surely would do something, or at least know what to do. It’s not like he had a knife or anything — that I could see anyway. "Patrick, I swear to God!" I shout "I will give you another goddamn black eye!" "And what did I do this time, [Nickname]?" Patrick calls from the living room "Hurt your feelings by standing in your vicinity?" Wait. 
Wait, wait, wait.
 Why is Patrick in front of me if Patrick's in the living room with Belch and Victor?  Slowly, I turned my head back around to look in front of me where I saw that same clown from earlier, only this time it had me pinned up against Henry's kitchen counter. It had puffy curly red hair, yellow eyes that seemed to be looking in two different directions, and big red lips where the corners climbed upward back over it's eyes and it's non-existent eyebrows. From what I could tell, it wore a white frilly collar with a loose white onesie. Fluffy red buttons decorated the middle in a group of three and I thought I was going to paint it in chunks from whatever I had left in my stomach when I started hyperventilating.. “Oh, don’t have a cow, [First Name].” It whispers in Patrick’s voice “The others might hear you.” I opened my mouth to scream but nothing came out. Everything slowed around me. I felt my blood running cold and I'm sure my eyes were wild with fear. My heart beat loudly in my ears as I watched, completely frozen, as the clown's jaw began to sluggishly unhinge. Rows upon rows of sharp, jagged teeth greeted me as the creature's face split in half. My feet were seemingly glued to the tile they stood on whilst my thoughts ran a mile a minute. Terror wrapped it's clawed hands around my throat where they squeezed and squeezed until I was left breathless.  Instincts hit before I had even realized that I was still alive. Run. In a flash of either panicked stupidity or unintentional genius, I swiftly lifted myself onto the counter and used my legs to get some space between me and the creature.  I quickly took my newfound opening the second that I got it. I booked it out of the kitchen. I rounded the corner and immediately slammed into someone, knocking both of us to the ground. Unfortunately, the person I happened to bump into was the exact person that creature had seemingly tormented me with. Patrick's dumb, squinty eyes stared up at me. The smug grin that he had on his face made me want to smash his head into the floor until it was nothing but a bloodied pile of brain matter and bone mush. Then suddenly, the overwhelming feeling of disgust washed over me as my brain caught up to itself.  
Patrick — I'm on top of Patrick — Gross. Gross. Gross.
 Anger may have been the only thing shown on my face as I hurriedly climbed off of him. But in reality, I felt really sick on the inside.  Despite the previous image of gore and the momentary urge to follow through with it, I shrank into myself. Of course, I'd immediately forgotten the incident in the kitchen — momentarily, of course — but it was still technically forgotten. I was trying to swat away the nasty thoughts popping up unwantedly in my head. Victor appeared beside me, looking passively snarky. It made sense, he was worried, I would be too if it were someone else. Especially considering that I was clearly about to have a whole ass breakdown or something.  Victor pressed the back of his hand against my forehead. "You're being super weird." He mentions "If you're sick then Belch can drive you home. I don't wanna catch whatever you've got." Don't get me wrong, I was glad that Vic was trying to downplay my craziness and everything, but I still smacked his hand away. His touch made my skin prickle and my hair stand up on end. Obviously, I could see that it was just Victor touching me and not Patrick, but it just made me feel more sick. I didn't want to be touched at all, I didn't want to feel anyone anywhere else on my body. What if it happened again? I knew that Victor wouldn't do that because he wasn't like Patrick, but what if he was? 
No, no, no. Stop it — Stop thinking about it! Don't be stupid. God, you're such a baby. Worry about the kitchen hallucination — or your stupid parental units. Anything else, please.
 All I could think of was that nasty fucking stick and it just didn't help.  In reality, my shouting could’ve conveyed that there was a murderer in the house. It could've told them that I was in the process of being murdered by a murdering murderer and here the guys were trying to be all 'do you have a fever?'  I mean, don't get me wrong — my way of standing in the hallway all crumpled up, looking constipated doesn't exactly convey urgency, but c'mon. Still, though, what could I have told them? I knew that telling them some psycho shit like ‘I was attacked by some clown monster-thing that was pretending to be Patrick' would've most likely gotten me kicked out of the gang and swiftly thrown into the nuthouse. 
Oh, God. What could I tell them?
 The familiar sound of boots thundering down the hallway finally clicked in my head. Henry was coming — In fact, he was already here. I had almost tried to explain myself anyway, especially since Henry was there, but I still chose to stay quiet. I just wanted this day to be over and I wanted everyone to just pretend that it never happened. I could feel Henry staring me down — I felt his angry eyes burning holes into the back of my skull. I could feel the heat of the fiery rage radiating off of him. I didn't dare turn to look at him, I already could guess that he was shaking. His body could never handle it when he got angry like this. Sometimes, his body was just too small for the fury burning inside of it. "What the fuckin’ fuck is the problem?!" Henry shouted Patrick snickered from where he laid. Finally, he bothered to peel himself off of the floor and stand up. "[Last Name] happened." Patrick snorts In an instant, Henry exploded from behind me. It felt as if all eyes of the eye color rainbow were on me as Henry exploded. Hell, if Henry were in anyone else's house right now then he would've probably put his fist straight through the drywall. This was the Bowers' house, though. Things were different here. Henry was in my face in an instant, screeching about everything me and my ancestors had ever done wrong.  "There’s water all over the fuckin’ floor, you're screaming and running around like a bitch and for fuckin' what?! ” He rambles I still didn't bother with explaining myself, I just took it — the brunt of his rage. It was my fault anyway, clearly I was going nuts. Still, Henry looked a lot like his dad when he was angry, as unfortunate as that was. He only looked like himself when he was sleeping. 
God, why am I like this? That's so fucking creepy.
 "I’m sorry, Henry." I apologize, choking slightly on the weight of the words “I fuckin' told you to stop sayin' you're fuckin' sorry! Sayin' sorry won't fuckin' make it go away!" Henry screams "Just get the fuck in there and fuckin' clean it up!" Say no more. Please. Saying you're sorry won't make this go away, [Nickname]. The sporadic and intrusive thoughts swarmed around my head — ones that made it spin — I felt myself trying to put the surrounding world on pause.  
I told you to stop making noise, [Nickname]. We don't want the others to hear, remember?
 Images, unwanted memories of my face being smashed into the dirt. I remembered all too well of how much it hurt to have my front tooth forcefully chipped on a rock. 
Stop fucking crying or they're gonna hear us.
 My vision grew blurry as Henry shoved me back into Victor, who reflexively caught me. Then, before Henry could get close enough to throttle me, Belch stepped between us. He and Henry did their usual banter as Victor stood me upright. Nobody said anything about the tears gathering in my eyes as I hurriedly slipped past everyone before disappearing into the kitchen. I barely noticed how flat the conversation fell when I caught sight of Henry in my peripheral. He looked.. a bit sad — almost a little guilty. I was clearly imagining even more things now. Fantastic. I shakily crept into the kitchen, where I promptly tripped over my own feet. I barely caught myself on the kitchen island without knocking any glasses over — effectively saving myself from more injuries. Tears suddenly escaped me when I reflexively blinked and after that they just kept going. And yet, nothing seemed to register.  Nothing.  Henry childishly stomped out of the hallway and into the living room, the sound obviously getting followed up by his and the others’ voices. "We're going outside," Henry tells the others "I got the bullets." "What about-" Victor softly starts "I said we're going outside! " Henry booms "Move your ass, Criss!" I stared down at my hands, watching them as they seemingly vibrated. "Why don't you order me around, Henry?" Patrick pouts "I just love it when-" "Hockstetter, if you open your mouth one more goddamn fuckin' time I will punch your teeth right through your fuckin skull." Henry threatens through gritted teeth "Promise?" Patrick challenges The front door slammed shut behind them. A pang jolted in my chest as I thought back to Henry's angry face, reliving the way he had shoved me so violently into Victor and how it felt when Victor touched me before any of that had happened. Suddenly, as if something had broken inside of me, I was sobbing. Everything was too much, from the silence around me being too loud to my rapidly running thoughts bouncing sloppily between what had transpired so far today and what had happened last summer. I wrapped my arms over my head protectively. It was as if I were a little kid again, hiding under my blankets from an unfamiliar monster as he slipped out of my closet. Everything was suddenly crumbling around me all over again and it just wouldn't stop. My legs wobbled and buckled beneath me, I curled up onto the floor, fighting to regulate my now fucked up breathing. This happened every so often when it happened when I was littler. I'd get scared of something and suddenly wouldn't be able to calm myself down. My male parental unit would get annoyed and tell my female parental unit I was having another 'fit.' He expected her to deal with it for some reason. I remember those words so clearly but I can barely remember anything after that. I can recall the tiles in our bathroom and the feeling of water around me. I can hear some quiet whispers before suddenly I can't anymore. I can recall the feeling of suddenly running out of breath and a growing fuzziness in my head. I remember the taste of water and how much it hurt to breathe but after that I don't have any recollections. Am I going crazy? Is this what that feels like? I remember how long it took for me to get over those fits and my irrational fear of taking a bath, but why are the fits coming back to me now? I couldn't seem to get enough air in to keep trying to figure out what the fuck was happening to me and I wouldn't dare ask anyone for help. Something may have been wrong with me, but I'd be damned if I had anyone else be here to witness it. I had to figure this out on my own, even if I was starting to get tired. I don't know how long I was on the floor for, but I do know how it felt to suddenly find myself waking up to the sound of distant gunshots coming from outside. 
Bang!

Bang!

Bang!
 Unfortunately, with that awake-ness came a looming headache and the strong feeling of disgust that I had with myself. On the bright side though, the thoughts that had done this to me weren't as present now and thankfully I was too exhausted to be bothered by them regardless.  ****NEW, DARKER EDIT, REREAD TAGS BEFORE READING BELOW**** 
Bang!

Bang!

Bang!
 I stared out of the window, my head mostly empty as I dried dish after dish. I'd finished washing the dishes long ago — the drying wetness of my shirt proving that fact. The sounds of unhindered gunfire resonating through the thin walls of the Bowers' residence. It helped to drown out any thoughts that did attempt to claw their way to the front of my mind. Thinking was dangerous for me right now, that much I knew. I'd been thinking too much lately and that's how I got myself into this mess in the first place. I just couldn't keep my fucking shit together, could I? The painful spikes of pain that had been flaring up so much today had seemingly settled to a low throbbing in my heart. Finally, some sort of break from myself and my stupid, weird feelings that I couldn't seem to explain; not even to myself. I watched the small, blurry figures hanging out in the distance — Henry and them. 
Bang!

Bang!

Bang!
 The gunshots came back again after a brief moment and I didn't even flinch. The sound was distant enough to not be an issue for me. Not that I would flinch, I wasn't scared of gunshot sounds or anything. I wasn't some little kid — I wasn't. Absently, I reached into the dish rack, only to realize when I finally tore my eyes away from the window that there were no dishes left for me to dry. I'd dried them all and put them away in my absent mindedness. I sighed, soft and shakily as I leaned up against the counter with the dish rag still held in my hand. I peered into the sink — old and a bit crusty, it was. However, it was something to look at considering the fact that I didn't want to go outside yet. At least, not until I was sure that I'd given Henry the sufficient amount of time that he needed to cool off. I rocked on my feet as an intrusive thought suddenly cropped up. It was Henry's face, his eyes set ablaze and spit flying out of his mouth as he screeched at me. Tears welled up in my eyes before I had even realized and I quickly reached up to rub them away. I couldn't cry, not now. I wasn't supposed to cry. I wasn't supposed to feel anything. It made me look weak — too pathetic. God, how could anybody put up with me? Quickly slapping myself back together, I quickly glanced around the kitchen. I needed to do something with my hands. So, without another thought beyond that, I opened the cabinet. I grabbed another glass from one of the cupboards and filled it up with some tap water from the sink. I needed something else to procrastinate with — something that could distract me from the aching in my chest and the uncontrollable storm waiting to be unleashed on my brain. It didn't take long for the call of nature to suddenly hit me, though. I quickly washed and dried the glass before putting it back after having quickly chugged the remaining water within. Then after assuring myself that everything that I’d cleaned and used to clean was put away correctly, I headed toward the bathroom. The downstairs bathroom wasn't anything fancy. In fact, it was pretty standard. All that said, the bathroom consisted of a small toilet, a bathroom cabinet behind the rectangular mirror, and a small sink with a large marble counter that held a single door and three drawers. So, it essentially was just a rearranged version of the upstairs bathroom that Henry had originally.. had his tantrum when I was cleaning him up. Except there was no bathtub in this bathroom. Casually, I placed my elbow on the sink counter and rested my head against it as I thought about my aching chest. If I was gonna have a heart attack, shouldn't I have already had one by now? Actually, what if it was something else? Maybe something more severe? What would I do then? In all honesty, with my luck, I’d probably end up dying alone in my room and I can only imagine what it would be like for Victor to come in the next morning to wake me up for school only to find out that, surprise! I’m a corpse, baby! Suddenly, I was interrupted by a knocking that prompted me to jump so high that I almost hit my head on the ceiling. Thankfully though, I didn’t piss anywhere on the seat. Talk about a miracle.. “So, how are your parents, Sunshine?” The voice of Patrick questions smugly from the other side of the door The same feeling from before kicks in as my body begins to wake up from its light dreaming state. I could feel every hair standing up on end when I tensed up, nearly frozen in place. That had been what the clown thing had said, right? I wasn't misinterpreting? "Fuck off, Patrick." I spit back "Wha—at? " He whines "Don't like me asking you about Mommy and Daddy? Maybe now you know how it feels." It takes me a moment to unlock my joints, but eventually I was able to finish up using the bathroom. I wiped, I washed my hands, and dried them off on the hand towel next to the sink. All the while an impatient Patrick knocked on the door every so often, doing his very best to coax me out of the bathroom. However, I just did my best to tune him out and instead leaned up against the wooden door. Something wasn't right. I could feel it in my bones. I took a deep breath in through my nose. Doing my best, I prepared myself for some sort of response to his previous statement. "I don't like you asking me anything, you evil stick." I counter harshly I shut my eyes tightly and released the rest of my breath silently. I even did my best to clear up some space in my worn-down processing unit so that I could weigh out my options. Okay, this was either the real Patrick or that creepy clown thing that I kept seeing — that I keep getting harassed by. Even though I wasn't sure which was worse at the moment, I still had to think. I could either open the door now or hide in here and risk continuing to look like an absolute fucking psycho since the guys had already proven that I was hallucinating. Even though it felt so real. I ended up choosing the latter. Which apparently, was a horrible idea. I opened the door and stepped back so that I could open the door just a smidge. So I could peek out into the hallway. Unfortunately, my plans of keeping a certain Hockstetter at bay were trashed when he abruptly slammed his palm flush against the door and shoved it open. Stalking his way inside, his cold, dead eyes watched as I was flung back into the counter where I once again hurt my back. I cried out softly but the yelp was cut short when he placed a hand over my mouth. Patrick shushed me with a single finger pressed against his livery lips. Silent and confused, I furrowed my brows whilst doing my best to ignore the fear creeping up my spine and churning in my stomach. I felt like a caged animal. Is this how tigers and bears feel in those zoos? Do they feel this violent, uncontrollable sickness? The panic rising in their throats? Patrick smiled his usual wicked smile at me. Memories sharply flashed across my vision. I remembered that smile all too well.  
Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. It's gonna happen again. He's gonna do it again.
 Only this time, it would be happening in Henry Bowers’ fucking downstairs bathroom, not in the middle of the woods; and it would be when I was far too tired and injured to stop him. When I was weak — weaker than I had been that night. Teasingly, he lowered his hand and trailed it down my chest. I wanted to scream. I think I even wanted to cry. I grabbed his wrist, a warning. I tore the offending appendage away from my person. Tears were already welling up in my eyes when the images in front of me melted into ones from the past. All I could see was him hovering over me, softly moaning and gasping. I could remember the feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach. How much my throat burned from attempting to hold back my crying. I, unsure of what else to say to or do with him at that moment, went with whatever first popped into my mind. “What do you want, Hockstetter?” I inquire I had intended to sound confident — as I always had when I was around him and the others. But my voice wavering because all I could see was images that had been haunting me for months — all I could feel was lung crushing, heart wrenching panic. Patrick just smiled even wider and snatched his hand back. 
I'm gonna cry. I'm gonna cry. Get him away. Gotta get away.
 I needed his predatory self to think this through. What would happen if one of the guys walked in? What if they actually heard me screaming this time? I needed him to back down just long enough for me to get away. I could do it this time. It didn't have to happen again. Not here. Not ever. “Glad you asked, Sunshine.” He chimes At that moment, when Patrick reached out to me, I recoiled as far as I could with the sink right behind me. I knew what he was planning, I could see it in his eyes. I'd seen that look before. I saw it last summer. I'd seen it last summer and it made everything that much worse. Patrick had done this before and he was about to do it again. "Patrick," I warn, shrinking against the sink "Patrick if you don't get away from me, I'll — I'll —" "What, you gonna have a cow? You gonna scream? You gonna cry?" He challenges 
Oh, don’t have a cow, [First Name]. The others might hear you.
 Patrick shushed me with a finger to my lips as he closed the gap between us. "You're not gonna do anything, [First Name]. We both know that." Patrick tells me "You're gonna shut the fuck up." 
I told you to stop making noise, [Nickname]. We don't want the others to hear, remember?
 The world was rapidly closing in around me, the corners of my vision going dark as I zeroed in on Patrick. Suddenly, I could see the trees and starry night sky overhead. If I looked to either side all I could see was darkness, which meant that I couldn't particularly see Patrick that well. Though, I could feel the cold air on my skin and the itchy tears leaking down my face, leaving a sticky feeling in their wake. I could feel my entire core shutting down all over again. I could even hear the distant crickets and Patrick's grunting as he thrusted painfully in and out of me. It stung, it stung so much. My insides hurt so much — a scorching fire that made me want to scream and scream until my vocal cords finally tore. My head spun and ached as the world swirled around me. I wasn't in my right mind. I couldn't stop any of it. I couldn't even walk straight when I'd come over here in the first place. Jesus, I was going to puke — I was going to fucking vomit but oh my God I couldn't even breathe enough to heave. And I panicked. Panicked. I flailed and kicked as Patrick attempted to pick me up with his filthy, greasy hands. My tears clawed down my face as I curled up against the sink once I'd managed to slam him back against the wall across from the sink with whatever strength was in my legs. I couldn't process what I was saying but I knew that I was talking — babbling incoherently as my hands went into my hair and my eyes squeezed tightly shut. I could hear someone else's voice, loud and enraged — which only served to make my current state worse from the overstimulation. A pair of hands tried to touch me but I violently slapped them away. I couldn't go through it again. I couldn't do this again. I couldn't. I really couldn't. 
Please don't make me. Please, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I said what I said to you earlier, Patrick. Just don't do it again.
 
Saying you're sorry won't make this go away, [Nickname].
 A pair of hands fought their way to cup my cheeks and I forced my eyes open to meet the eyes of Victor, who yelled and shook me. "[First Name]!" He yells "Jesus, [First Name], relax! It's just me!"  I just barely forced my eyes to open, finally meeting the worried and panic stricken face of Victor. His grip on my shoulders was tight, but my chest was much tighter. I watched as Victor turned to Patrick, throwing an angry, borderline murderous glare. "What the fuck did you do?! " Victor screeches 
What do you think the gang would say if they saw you like this?

Patrick stared at me with intense, predatory eyes for a bit, refusing to say anything to anyone about anything. For once in his life, he’d been caught, and it was obvious that behind those fiery eyes was calculations and equations being processed and separated into sections. Those sections most likely being ‘would work’ and ‘wouldn’t work’.  “Nothing, Vicky.” Patrick spits and hisses “I found [Last Name] like this." Patrick slowly twisted around with a small lick of his lips so that he could glance over and smile at a concerned Victor, who made sure to stand his ground. And in all honesty, I think it was safe to say that Vic was mad — because he certainly looked the part. He looked mad about the fact that Patrick was trying to do something like this to someone. And I think he had a right to be mad about it, especially since we were all gangmates — Victor and I more so than Patrick and myself or Victor and him. However, it wasn’t as much of a right for him as it was for me. I was the one being pestered. I was the one who was going to suffer, not him, not Victor.  Yet he was still mad.  Grinning with his usual cheshire cat grin, Patrick’s cold, dead eyes twinkled in Victor’s direction. Which, therefore, made Victor clench his fists.  “Bullshit, Hockstetter.” Victor snaps ”Get out.” Obediently, Patrick turned around and left. He left with that stupid grin on his face and that malicious twinkle in his eyes too. It made me sick just thinking about it, especially after he disappeared behind the left side of the doorway. And now that it was just Vic and I, standing there, in all honesty, it was a lot harder to look him in the eyes. But when brown met [eye color], the duo didn’t clash, they simply hugged things out. Victor's chocolate pupils offered me a look of genuine concern, rather than a look of anger that he initially shamed Patrick with. "You gotta breathe." He tells me, softly "In and out. Like this." He demonstrates, taking a slow, long breath in followed by another breath out. I tried to follow him, but the longer I went for, the more apparent the bile rising in my throat became. Hesitantly moving my hand away from the glass, I abruptly broke the eye contact so that I could turn my eyes downcast, toward the counter behind me. But in that instant, everything morphed into a blur and suddenly, I found myself brushing past him in order to rush down the hallway. The only thought in my head was about how I needed to get out — how I needed to get fresh air into my lungs. I heard Victor as he called my name from behind me. I heard him say that we needed to talk, but I didn’t listen to him. I’d been humiliated enough for one day. I couldn’t take any more of it. Plus, I already knew that that was just the beginning regardless. For I’d just pissed Patrick off for the second time, and this time it wasn't even completely on purpose. I could hear Victor yelling as he chased after me, but by the time that he caught up to me I had already burst out of the front door and practically thrown myself down the stairs. I collapsed on the dirt path leading up to his house, ignoring the pain radiating in my body as I emptied the contents of my stomach onto the ground. Henry would be so mad about this, everyone would be so mad about this, I was already so mad about this. 
That's right, baby. Keep crying. You look so good when you're crying — begging for me to take it out. Keep going, baby. I'm getting close.
 Victor was at my side in an instant, kneeling beside me and [holding my hair back/rubbing my back] as I puked. He did his best to comfort me, looking queasy as ever as I sobbed in between hurls. Victor patiently waited for me, unsure of what to do with both himself and me, who was still sobbing and puking all over Henry's yard, occasionally babbling something that was incoherent to both of us. I mean, what else could he do besides alternate between shushing me and telling me that I was okay even when I was most definitely not. He waited until I had nothing left in my stomach — waited for me to nearly collapse with exhaustion against him before he spoke. 
Who knew this was all I had to do to shut you up? We should do this every time you're being a mouthy bitch.
 "[First Name].." He trails off, searching for the right words "What.. what the hell was that?" I weakly shrugged in reply, my body finally settling into my silent sobbing. Every so often my mind would wander back to Patrick — to places I'd been fighting against it going for months. I couldn't stop it now, all I could do was cling to Victor, as if him being there instead of Patrick would magically pull me out of it. Victor had already given up on asking about it and after only one question at that. Usually it took at least two before he gave up. He continued rubbing my back, ignoring the way that my body shook from the fear and the ugly crying I was doing into his shoulder. Victor just let me go, let me cry myself out. Maybe the guys'll join in next time. Then again, maybe I'll just keep you for myself. I could take you right now, lock you up in my basement.. I'd feed you just enough to keep you pretty, keep you bathed and naked, then I could fuck you whenever.. I know you'd be a good little pet for me. Thought hard about it a few times and—ngh, I'm gonna cum just thinking about it. You ready, baby? Here it is..

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“You won’t say anything about that to anybody, will you?” I question Victor shook his head, watching me as I dusted myself off, getting rid of any of the loose dirt that still clung to my clothes. "I don't even know what just happened." Victor confesses "Let's keep it that way." I dismiss "C'mon." I rounded the house and trudged over to Belch, Henry, and the evil stick of doom. Victor followed after me and we hung out by the tree with Belch, watching as Henry shot bottle after bottle whilst he conversed with Belch. I turned my head to throw a glance at Victor, who simply nodded in solemn manner whilst he stared off into the distance on his left. I ignored the way that Victor eyed Patrick with a mildly threatening and suspicious gaze. In all seriousness, what was Victor going to say in the first place? And who to? Henry would most likely either brush it off and tell Victor to get his panties out of a twist or he would actually go ahead and attempt to correct Patrick’s behavior with his fists. Meanwhile, Belch would most likely yell all over Patrick and throw his skinny ass frame into the next country for trying something so.. so.. I heard Henry take another shot at the bottles, but I didn’t hear any sort of shattering coming from them. For the ringing had begun once I saw a familiar frame enter the picture. "What in the fuck are you starin' at, Klondike?" His rough, gruff voice slugged us all in the gut, the feeling being closer to a sucker punch. My stomach immediately twisted and turned at the mere sight of him approaching the five of us. Butch. My head swiftly whipped around so that I could throw a glance at Henry. He stood frozen stiff beside a tense Belch, who almost sheepishly side-stepped away from the boy, who’s eyes were big and wide with what seemed to be learned terror. Henry appeared as if he were freezing from how hard he shook and once again he reminded me of a broken washing machine. Though, he did his best to puff his chest out and straighten his back so that he wouldn’t seem like a little bitch in front of us because that’s just something that Henry always did when his dad came around all of us at once at the wrong time. Butch’s speedy walking pace left him standing before Henry in a matter of minutes. His greyish-blue eyes were cold and unforgiving as he stared down his one and only son. And Butch just radiated an energy that screamed ‘you’re fucking dead to me.’ “What’re you doin’, boy?” Butch asks, sounding unnaturally calm Henry stared at the ground, refusing to meet Butch's eyes. “Cleaning your gun, sir-” Henry answers, softly “No, you’re not.” Butch snaps “Give it to me, boy.” Butch quietly extends his hand out to Henry and Henry hands the gun over to him. Everyone is completely silent as Butch raises the gun just enough to shoot near Henry's toes. Shocked and stupefied, I watched this event go on for what felt like forever. Each shot was slow and thoroughly calculated, Butch made sure to keep the bullets away from entering any part of Henry’s covered feet.  
Bang!

Bang!

Bang!
 Henry cowered, and weakly protected himself with his arms as his father emptied the clip at his feet. The rest of us were powerless to stop him. However, that didn’t stop me from weakly reaching out before recoiling as the very last shot rang out through the countryside air. "Look at 'em." Butch seethes "Look at how he hides. Real men don't hide. Is this really the shell of a useless man that you wanna follow 'round all the time?" Butch glances around at me and my surrounding gangmates, who all say nothing and avoid eye contact. Well, save for Patrick, as per usual. "Is it? " He demanded Patrick glared, completely refusing to speak—let alone breathe, but his eyes said it all. Despite being a freak of nature and an evil son-of-a-bitch, he was still loyal to Henry. And at this, Butch simply shook his head with a disappointed and disapproving scoff. He murmured something that only I seem to hear before he slowly turns around and saunters away. “Then again, none of you little fuckers are men.” He murmurs “So what would you know?” We all stayed silent as we collectively watched Butch head for the house and it felt like an eternity before Butch finally disappeared into it. He even made sure to slam the door shut behind himself, and I could swear up and down that people in China could hear the sound of the Bowers’ front door slamming shut behind that fucking asshole. I fumed and fumed, steam coming out of my ears as I stared at that door. But I didn’t have the energy needed to stay angry, because soon enough, my burning rage slowed down to a simmering hatred as I tiredly glanced side to side. All so that I could size up everyone’s individual reactions.  Let’s see.. Victor was absolutely frozen, Belch was fuming, and Patrick was now a completely blank slate — meaning that I couldn’t read him at all. And to think, after all that glaring he did, suddenly he looked like he didn’t even see anything. Funny how that bastard of a man seems to work. I turned my head to look at Henry, who stood there glued right down to the grass beneath his boots. He stared off into the distance, his eyes glossy and as hollow as an old oak tree that was finally beginning to die.  Boldly, I took a step forward and became the first one to take initiative in asking if Henry was okay. However, before I could get anything out, or even get close enough for that matter, Henry simply spun around on his heels and walked off towards the barn without a single word. Effectively leaving the rest of us in a dazing dust. Oh, Henry.. After both Bowers men had left the area, the rest of us gathered up into a small square to talk. Well, at least it felt like a square. I don't actually know what shape it was due to the way everyone was standing. To the left was Patrick, who's bangs shaded his face from view as he stared downwards. He was clearly fizzling, but was still more focused on flicking his lighter open and shut, rather than talking to any of the rest of us. This, of course, was partially expected since he didn't get to assault me in any manner when he was in the bathroom and assumedly couldn't do the same to Henry's dad. No matter how much he wanted to. And I know he really wanted to. But, I only hurt his feelings. What Henry's dad did would warrant something worse than anything he's ever done to me. Anything he's ever done to me. Almost immediately, I looked down at the ground and away from his bitter form. I shook my head. Now was not the time for those thoughts to pop up. Now was the time for those thoughts to go right the hell away from me. It never happened — In fact, I don't even know what I'm talking about. Instead of thinking any longer about Patrick, I looked over to my right, where Victor stood. His eyes were full of bitter anger as he anxiously chewed on his nails which was a little habit that he'd picked up a few years ago. Whenever someone made him mad and he found himself unable to do anything about it, he'd just bite his nails. And normally, Belch would say something about it but at least he wasn't doing other things to himself anymore. Across from me and between Patrick and Victor, was Belch. And although I didn't hear a word he was saying, he was speaking to everyone softly and it was almost as if he was worried that either Butch or Henry would hear him if he didn’t talk quietly enough.  But, Butch was inside the house and Henry had disappeared off to the barn. Henry. I looked over towards the big red barn that lay behind Belch’s head and beyond the fence that Victor was leaned against. The barn was set in the distance still but thanks to the random section of cheap, homemade fencing that Henry had most likely put together himself — which was quite far from the house — said barn wasn't as far away as it could be. I glanced at the fencing shortly before I looked back up at Belch. Nonchalantly, I reached out to run a hand over the top piece and ended up with a single splinter that I had retracted my hand in order to pull it out. And whilst I did that, for a moment, I thought again about Henry. His dad had shot at him, called him names, and insulted his very being. However, all Henry seemed to be able to do was curl in on himself, then left dead silent. He didn't even fight back. And that was saying a lot. Without realizing it, I step back out of the square completely and make my way around Victor. My movements were slow and hesitant. I didn't know what I was doing but here I was doing whatever it was anyway. And I think just about everyone in the sorta-square gone sorta-triangle watched me as I continued on my way towards the barn.  "[First Name]!" Belch calls out "Where are you going?" I barely heard him, but subconsciously replied with a simple shrug. I didn't know, so why would he get to know? "Whatever, I'm coming with." Victor suddenly decides Victor's feet slam across the grass as he—for once—hurries over to join me. He, of course, slows down once he catches up to me but by then Belch had also joined in on the idea of following my wandering self to the barn.  "I guess we're doing this now." Belch mentions Belch jogged after us and followed closely beside us. I didn't know about Patrick, though, and I didn't particularly care. I never did when it came to him. I just continued on my way. Only by the time when we reached the barn did Patrick seem to creep up behind us. I guess his angry head had finally cleared up enough to a point where he could follow group decisions that I apparently made. Even though I'm pretty sure he hated me because I sure as hell hated him. We paused at the entrance. Well, at least for a moment anyway. "So, who's going up there?" Belch asks "I'll do it." Patrick and I say in unison Belch glances over to Victor, who simply shakes his head. I turn to look at Patrick, who turns to look at me at the same time.  "Ohh no. Not happening." Victor states firmly "Someone else has to do it." With a small sigh, Belch returns his gaze to Patrick and I, who were currently engaged in an aggressive exchange of hateful banter. Anger painted both Patrick's face and my face as we glowered at each other. Warningly, we squared up against each other even though deep down inside of me, I was nervous to be this close to him. So nervous that I felt sick. I hated having to be close to him. Now that I'd managed to snap out of my initial daze that was either due to the after-party of Patrick being a freak or from any deep rabbit hole of thought that I fell down thanks to my unstable head and my constant thoughts of Henry. "You're just gonna make it worse." I hiss "You always make it worse." "And you think you're gonna do any better there, Sunshine?" Patrick prods "Say, what's with the sudden interest anyway? You been sleepin' with him or something?" Anger boils inside me at the utter assumption. Me? Sleeping with one of my gangmates? Ha! As if! Unless you count literally sleeping next to Henry. Fuck. "Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you?" I seethe "You sick son of a–" "Enough." Belch interrupts, clearly fed up "Just play rock, paper, scissors or I'll be going up there." "Ugh, fine." I huff I push some hair out of my face and stick my hands out, making a fist that I hold above my open palm. I watch closely as Patrick mimics my movements and prepares himself. "Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!" We say in unison We pound our fists down onto our palms and in the end Patrick threw scissors and I threw rock. I won. With a victorious grin, I continued to glower at Patrick, who glared back at me with glossy eyes and a slightly thoughtful smile. "I'm doing it next time." He declares "Sure you are." I dismiss him, waving my hand bitterly I brush past him, spitefully shoving him out of my way with a hand on his shoulder. I could practically sense Belch shaking his head and Victor taking out his carton of cigarettes and his lighter. And normally I would've bummed one but, I didn't stick around long enough to be able to.  Actually, I don't think he'd even let me have one just because of the mood he's currently in thanks to Henry's lovely dad. God, I hated Butch. The barn was pretty empty for the most part, save for the wooden interior holding it together, and the large piles of hay that were scattered about. I glance around as I walk, looking for that ladder that would take me up to the living area up top. Upon finding it, I climbed up the ladder and did my best to be careful since the wood was starting to age to a point where it wouldn't do that good supporting me—or any of the guys, in fact. It's a pretty quick climb up and by the time I'm getting close to the top, I manage to come face-to-face with Henry. His arms were crossed over his chest quite tight and he looked all but happy to see me. Henry quietly glared at me from where he stood peaking over the floor. "What'd'you want?" Henry growls I place my hand on the little space between the toe of his boot and the edge of the floor. Quietly, I stare up at Henry. "Came to check on you." I tell him, shortly Henry snorts disapprovingly and shakes his head. He turns away and throws his arms up in the air before storming over to the mattresses where he sat down, pouting. "I don't fuckin' need nobody to fuckin' babysit me." Henry spits "So why don't you fuck off?" I finish climbing up and choose to dust myself off as an excuse to not say anything. I mean, sure, it's not like I had anything to reply with in the first place, but still. Henry opens the drawer of the nightstand just as I finally straighten back up from dusting off my dirty jeans. I watch blankly as he huffs and picks something up from inside—it being another dead mouse, just as I had suspected. Henry whips it back before swinging it forward and whipping it out the window. "Stupid fuckin' mice!" He exclaims angrily Henry reaches back into the drawer, pulling out a baby blue lighter before he loudly slams the poor thing shut. The lantern on top shakes with the force for a moment as Henry snatches the pack of cigarettes off the top and flicks it open. I wait for him, my eyes following his movements as he takes a single stick out, carelessly pulling out a couple others that fall to the ground. After putting it in his mouth and grumbling a few curses more, he throws the pack onto the bed after just barely closing it back up. After he—with a gruff sigh—puts the lighter back down on the nightstand, he had finally lit the cigarette and turned his gaze back to me. After another long moment of our personal staring match, he snatches the cigarette out of his mouth. "What the fucking fuck are you still here for anyway?!" He snaps "I said fuck off!" He turns with a frown, to the window that he'd previously thrown the mouse out of. "Just fucking go away." He adds, sounding softer My legs move on their own, bringing me closer to him as he whispers to anyone but himself. "He'll get mad if he realizes the others aren't up here too." He says softly Henry quietly scratched his head with his free hand as he took a drag of his newly lit cigarette. He doesn't even look at me—he refuses to. Instead, he just stares out the window, the one he'd thrown the mouse out of. Actually, he only turns to look at me once I find myself sinking down onto the mattress next to him. Cigarette smoke is blown close to my face as it exits through his nose. "Why do you keep fuckin' doin' this?" He huffs, clearly annoyed "Second day in a fuckin' row that you're all over me. Why?" I shrug quietly before reaching out to him, to maybe put a soothing hand on his shoulder or whatever. Just like I'd done last night. It had worked pretty well then, hadn't it? "You came to see me first." I reply, not really thinking "Get the fuck off of me." Henry commands, shrugging my hand off the second it sets itself on his shoulder. "Right." I tell him, now recoiling "Sorry." "Don't fuckin' apologize to me." He spits "I ain't no kicked puppy." "You sure are cut like one." A nasally voice suddenly comes from the ladder Henry just about spins on his heels, steam coming out of his ears as he childishly stomps his foot. "Hockstetter, I'll fuckin kill you!" Henry spits "I ain't no kicked puppy! And I ain't no goddamn charity case neither!" Patrick is suddenly dragged off the ladder—much to my satisfaction—and instead is carelessly dropped on his back onto the floor below. It takes a moment of Patrick's wheezing laughter filling the little bit of silence that we had left as Victor climbs up the ladder.  "'Course you aren't, Hank." Belch tells him from down below After finally making it high enough for his shoulders to come up over the floor, Victor brings them up and creates a makeshift pillow with them. Quietly, he lies his head on them sideways so that the top of his head faces the left. With a big, blank stare, he looks up at an unamused Henry. "Can we come up yet?" He asks, as if he just wasn't as bitter as he was before I came into the barn "I have weed." "Yeah, yeah, whatever." Henry waves a dismissive hand as he takes a final drag of his cigarette "Sweet." Is all Victor says

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Eventually, when it got dark enough to where the lantern was the only source of light in the barn, Henry kicked us out. Which was a good thing because my now vulnerable head was currently swarming with unwanted feelings and memories — memories that I hadn’t really dared to relive of in a while. Those sickening ones that I’d been so desperately avoiding. Thinking about them meant that I really was just powerless and knowing that I was powerless made my stomach churn — made me really fucking nauseous. I just prayed that I wouldn't get sick in Belch's car when we finally got there. To think that I'd spent so much time licking my wounds, sewing up the open cuts over and over again until my fingers were permanently coated in blood and pus from the festering infection I'd allowed to run rampant since the summer. I'd fought so fucking hard to ignore it, but then Patrick had to go and tear them back open, pulling the crude stitches right out of my skin. He always did, the fucking freak.  
What do you think the gang would say if they saw you like this?
  Victor hadn't dared to look at me head on now. I couldn't honestly tell what he had been thinking the whole night up until Henry kicked us out. And, yes, while Henry was the one who had told us to get out and go home, that didn’t mean that part of me didn’t want to stay. It hurt having to leave him alone up there for the night, more so than it ever had any time before. It was annoying, feeling this concerned over someone who could clearly take care of himself just fine.  
I need to stay for a little bit.

Don't have a cow or anything.
  It felt like the farther I strayed from his spot in the barn, the harder my chest hurt. I guess even if Henry had slammed me into a counter in a fit of rage — even if he'd screamed at me, demanding that I go away, that was just part of Henry being Henry. He'd always been like this. So, maybe if I just kept reminding myself over and over and over again of the fact that Henry Bowers was just a walking human fortress, the kind that kept any and all emotions locked up inside in little metal crates that had been cheaply welded shut, it wouldn't hurt so fucking much. Still, it felt like I was abandoning him, as stupid as that was. Henry was a big boy, he could handle his own problems just fine, I knew it. I just knew it.  
I told you to stop fuckin' sayin' you're sorry! Sayin' sorry won't fuckin' make it go away!
   
Saying you're sorry won't make this go away, [Nickname]
   We stumbled our way through the field under the cover of the darkness. We made our way over to the Trans-Am after narrowly avoiding a small family of skunks that we mistakenly crossed paths with. As expected, the Trans-Am was still where Belch had parked it, left situated in the driveway. Luckily, it was far enough behind Henry's dad's car, so Belch wouldn't be stuck backing around it like last time. Amy's lights flicked on the second Belch unlocked the car and opened his door. The rest of us followed suit, climbing inside and claiming our respective spots as casually as we could. Even then, Victor made sure not to look at me — not even when he popped the passenger door open right across from me on the other side of the car. I wanted to be mad at him for trapping me in the back with Patrick, I really, really did, but Victor was keeping with routine, so he had to sit up front in Henry's usual seat.  At least being stoned helped me deal a little bit better with the fact that Patrick was situated almost right next to me, staring me down. I refused to even glance in the Hockstetter boy's direction. I knew that I wouldn't make it home if I had. I wished he'd sat up front, even if he wasn't the first to get dropped off. So, I just crushed myself hard up against the door. At least if I got sick, I'd be able to lean out the window if Belch wasn't able to hit the brakes hard enough. Belch finally put the keys in and turned the ignition. Amy roared to life and before I knew it, Belch was backing out of the driveway and onto the road. Now all I could do was keep myself preoccupied with my deep, thoughtful daze — the one that made me want to fucking vomit whenever I veered off of the track of keeping myself at least somewhat together.  
Give me a little kiss, [Nickname]. You know you want to.
  I wanted to think happy thoughts.  
C'mon, it's just a little kiss. Don't be such a bitch about it.
  I really, really wanted to. Sickly, I buried my face in my hands, lurching forward. I wouldn't watch the road ahead, it made the growing nausea even worse. As I expected, the drive was not helping either my stomach or my brain cool off in the slightest. For a moment, I managed to get my processing unit somewhat back on track. I thought back to when we were in middle school, since that seemed to almost always be my go to for not freaking out. It was somewhere in the sixth grade, somewhere around the time shortly after I’d broken Greta Bowie's nose because she had looked at me funny and said something I hadn't liked. I'd ended up linking up with the gang because Victor had been in class with me when it happened. He used to sit in the back of English class with Belch, who slept most of the time. He'd laughed so hard his insides hurt when I got into a screaming match with the teacher, defending my reasons for socking Greta in her stupid, miserable face. He'd snuck out on a bathroom pass to meet me in the office, told me it was the funniest thing he'd seen all year. He suggested that I hang out with him and the others after my suspension was up, since he and I both knew quite well that I was gonna get suspended for it — and suspended I did get. After my suspension was up, Victor sat down next to me in class, taking Greta's spot right out front under her feet. Belch had sat on my other side, but of course, he just slept the whole time. Vic and I started passing notes back and forth, talking shit about various things. In that note, he suggested that I spend lunch with them, meet the guys and everything. I'd seen and heard of the great and terrible Henry Bowers and his right hand freakshow Patrick Hockstetter by that time — so I wasn't exactly out of touch with their usual antics, but I still agreed. I could still remember the look on Henry's face when I pulled up to their table, lunch tray in tow and sat down. It had been a mix of confusion and disgust but Victor was quick to put him at ease. "This is the kid who punched Greta in the face in English." Victor explained "You shoulda seen it. Belch hasn't ever got up so fast from a nap." Henry had looked me over a couple times at that and his suspicions over it were made clear from the way he had stared. "Did ya really do that?" He asked "She had it coming." I shrugged "She's been on my ass for like, the whole year." Henry had nodded and that was that. We all spent the rest of the lunch period talking about whatever came up in the conversation. By the end, Henry suggested I walk with them over to the junkyard — said they were gonna throw rocks at birds or something. I said yes, told them I'd meet with them at the kissing bridge after school. My parents had been constantly arguing at that point — clearly on the brink of divorce judging by how frequently they'd started throwing the word around when they got busy screaming at each other about dishes and other meaningless stuff. I was happy for the potential break. "How far out are you, anyway?" He'd asked "Not very." I replied, taking a bite of my sandwich "I'm over on the corner of Witcham and West Broadway." "That's pretty close to my place." Henry acknowledged "Mine too." Victor adds "I'm only a few blocks away."  
Your place was the closest besides Vic's. But I can't let him see me like this.
  "Well, at least it won't be a pain in the ass to pick you up." Henry shrugged "Especially after Belchy boy here gets his license." Patrick had chimed in, elbowing Belch for effect Belch groggily mumbled something as he sat up, rubbing the sleepiness out of his eyes. He'd been napping again, of course. Back then, Belch napped everywhere. "You sure he won't fall asleep at the wheel?" I'd asked, a bit suspicious They'd shared a laugh at that. "Oh, ha ha." Belch rolled his eyes, playfully "That's a good one." "You sure?" I'd asked, continuing to poke fun "I'm just concerned for the safety of small children chasing their balls out into the road when you're slobbering all over the wheel in your sleep." More laughter, this time louder — rowdier. Victor clapped me on the back, beaming. "See? I told you guys [First Name] was cool." Victor smiled The bell had rang by then and we disposed of our trays on the way out. Victor, Patrick, and Belch had bid their goodbyes and separated from Henry and I. As luck would have it, their classes had been in the opposite direction of Henry's and mine. Which left us to walk together for a little bit, at least until Henry had reached the door of his science class. I'd paused to tell him goodbye and Henry had smiled. "You're pretty fuckin' funny, yaknow that?" Henry had complimented I quirked a brow at him, the gesture luckily hiding the fact that he had stunned me with the sudden kindness. "You think so?" I questioned "I don't try to be." Yes, I had been a little caught off guard, but I hadn't missed a beat in replying. "Don't look too much into it, asshole." Henry dismissed, his face suddenly growing pink "You tell anyone and I'll kill you."  
You tell anyone about this.. and I'll kill you
  
Remember, [Nickname], if you ever tell anybody about this, I’ll kill you. You got that?
  I faded back into the present times with a violent shake of my head. I'd just barely cleared my mind enough to get those stupid thoughts out of my head in the first place, I couldn't fuck up my progress now. Still, those words.. those sounds.. they echoed in my head. Henry had always had a nice laugh, loud and boisterous. He used to throw his head back when he laughed hard enough, it completely juxtaposed his entire person — the reputation he'd built, the way he acted and how he carried himself around everyone, especially now. Henry didn't really laugh much anymore though, I noticed. All he really ever did now was get mad. Like, at the drop of a pin, suddenly Henry would be screaming — shoving people around until fists inevitably started flying. He used to be kinda fun to be around, but now..  
I need to stay for a little bit.
  Now he was showing up at my house in the middle of the night, crying and defensive. It didn't make a whole lot of sense. I'd never seen Henry cry before, really. Maybe once in the eighth grade when Bop got real sick and Henry thought that they were gonna have to put him down. Bop was one of two prized pigs that they had on the Bowers' farm and Henry's dad cared a hell of a lot more about those pigs than he did about Henry. When Butch found out that Bop was sick, he'd lost it. Butch had spent about an hour just screaming at Henry while Henry held the pig, letting the little guy rest his head on his lap. We'd all stood on the sidelines, watching Butch rain down punches and smacks to Henry's back and head. We hadn't known what to do — hadn't known what to say to make it stop. Henry had taken it like a champ though. He'd stubbornly hovered over the sick, distressed Bop, not once pulling away to defend himself from his father. Butch had been telling Henry that Henry was gonna have to take Bop out back to shoot him but Henry wasn't having it. So, when Henry had told his dad he wouldn't do it, Butch had gotten murderously fucking pissed. "—Cause you didn't fucking feed the damn thing right!" Butch roared "You were just sent here by God as my fuckin punishment!" Butch had punched Henry some more, nearly beating him into the mud that he was already kneeling in. "You fuck everything up, boy! You fucked up with your mother, you fucked up my breakfast this morning, and you fucked up feeding the damn pig!" Henry had stayed in place, sobbing and hiccuping over Bop, who had weakly snorted in response. "He's not gonna die, Dad." He sobbed, shakily "I know he won't, Bop is-" "You're fucking stupid, ya know that?" Butch shouted "A stupid fucking waste of fucking money and time! I don't know why I let your bitch mother talk me into having kids. You little fucking bootlickers ruin everything! " "He's not gonna die, Dad." Henry protested "He's not gonna die and I won't shoot him. I can't." "You really wanna baby the fuckin' thing, Henry? Fine! " Butch roared "You're burying the damn thing when it dies! Sick meat ain't good meat, boy!" "He's not gonna die." Henry assured Butch had dragged Henry up by his hair, ignoring the way the much smaller thirteen year old Henry kicked and screamed. He held him up just high enough to where he could get right in his face. "You know what? You just bought yourself a night in the fuckin barn." Butch whispered threateningly "You can sleep there tonight for all I care, boy. If you come anywhere near the fuckin' house tonight I'll fuckin' shoot ya and that damn pig!"  
I need a place to stay the night. 
  Thoughts of the Henry I'd seen last night came in flashes. A strangled sniffle here, a choked hiccup there. How he'd felt when I'd touched him, violent shaking unable to be soothed. A sudden flash of rosey, tear stained cheeks that was immediately followed by the memory of how horrible he'd smelled before he'd gone to shower. He'd looked horrible too. A glance at his chest here, a momentary observation of his back there. A bruise shaped just like a belt buckle. Some skinny crimson lines in a cluster on his shoulders. Some of them bleeding — others long since scabbed over. Bruises, bruises everywhere. Black, blue, yellow, and brown. Quiet steps, panicked touches, the sight of how Henry had held himself, practically curled up into his own body as he stood by my nightstand, refusing to meet my eyes — to even glance at me. Henry had looked vulnerable — he had looked familiar. I guess the suddenly appearing sixteen year old Henry looked a lot like thirteen year old Henry who was getting the absolute shit beat out of him in the pig pen. Frankly, the inexplicable nostalgia made me nauseous. It made my head spin almost as much as it had when I'd stirred late in the night, having felt a strong arm snake around my waist, gently tugging me close. I could vaguely recall the feeling of wetness growing on my shoulder, could hear muffled sniffles ringing out in my head. I had set my hand over his then, intertwined my fingers with his own before I'd drifted back to sleep. It was shortly after then that I'd stirred once more, watching through the nighttime darkness and my own blurry eyes as Henry climbed over me. He'd tried his hardest to be quiet as he'd crept across the floor, grabbing whatever he'd brought with him so that he could slip out the window and back into the night. I hadn't questioned him, hadn't gotten up to ask where he was going or anything of the sort. I'd only drifted back into a deep sleep and woken up the next morning for school. School. The day. Henry. Belch. Patrick. Victor. I looked up, finally grounded back into reality enough to see Victor's driveway coming into view. Belch had pulled into it and parked, he'd let Victor out with a sleepy "see ya later" that Victor yawned and waved goodbye at. He shut the door and disappeared off into his house as Belch backed up onto the road. Next up was my house, thank God. After hurriedly climbing into the front seat through the middle — much to Belch's annoyance, I settled a bit more comfortably into the ride. Despite Patrick's looming, sickening presence, I was better able to enjoy the light high I still had left. I could've fallen asleep if I wasn't so caught up with trying to ignore the thoughts of what had happened today. I focused a little too hard on guessing how many red cars people had in their driveway as Belch drove down West Broadway. At least that kept me mostly occupied until we finally pulled into my driveway. "Night, [First Name]." Belch tells me, yawning softly "I hope you feel better tomorrow." "Yeah," I reply, a bit absent "Me too." "Oh, don't be such a pansy." Patrick scoffs I popped the door open and climbed out, catching the tail end of the conversation. "Shut up, Hockstetter." Belch snaps "Or you can walk home. I've had enough of your shit today." "Awh, Belchy boy, you really do love me." Patrick teases I walked off toward the house, waving goodbye to Belch as Patrick climbed up into the passenger's seat through the back just like I had. Belch scolded him for it as he backed out of the driveway and into the road. I watched them go for a moment, bantering back and forth as they pulled off. I relaxed at the sight of the Hockstetter boy leaving my sight for temporary good — for the night at least. At least now I wouldn't have to worry about him.. There I went again. Desperately, I tried to think about something — anything that wasn't Patrick related as I stumbled up to the front door and searched around for the key that I couldn't seem to find. I reached out, jiggling the door handle to try it. Locked, the door was locked and the lights inside were off and both of my parental units' cars were gone from the driveway. This wasn't the first time they'd locked me out, but it was the worst possible time that they could've done it. I was exposed out here. What if Belch actually did kick Patrick out of the car? What if Patrick walked back here and saw me? I would be open to attack. I wouldn't be able to stop him. Maybe if I screamed loud enough my neighbors would catch it. Sally Mueller lived right across from me on West Broadway, they'd definitely have to hear me. Her window was always open. She would—she would- Oh God, I was gonna puke. I sprinted over to the railing and practically threw myself over it into the bushes by accident as I heaved. The lunch I'd consumed at school suddenly gushed out of me as I reached, coughing and puking into the once beautiful bushes lining the front porch. Shaking — I was shaking. What was I going to do? Where would I go? I couldn't sleep on the porch until my parents got home, could I?  
I need to stay for a little bit.
  Wait! Henry — I could go back to Henry's. He owed me, kinda, for that whole thing last night. He did. I could swing it. I could convince him to let me stay. I just knew I could. Still stoned, still sick, and still dazed, I dragged myself off of the railing and wiped my mouth. Henry's wasn't a far shot and unlike Vic's place a few blocks away, I wouldn't have to explain my sudden appearance to Henry's stuck up parents who openly can't stand me. Nor would I have to weave around Victor's creepy older brother — sleeping with one eye open so he didn't try cutting my hair to stuff into a doll or something. Yes, Henry's. I'd just walk back down to Henry's and crash there for the night. I mean, at least at Henry's the worst case scenario was that I'd have to wake up in the stupidest early hours of the morning and walk back to my place. At least at Henry's I would be inaccessible to Patrick.. ..And I guess potential burglars or whatever. So, after a few more vomiting fits that left me feeling just sober enough to start walking, I made my way down the porch steps and off to the sidewalk. I used to walk to Henry's all the time before Belch got his license, so how hard could it be now, right?

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Oh my

God.

I was wrong, so very, very

wrong

. The walk to Henry's was exhaustingly hard in my current state and my body hated me even more than I hated it.
 
I was beyond relieved — almost to the point of tears when the familiar Bowers' farmhouse finally came back into view. It looked so different in the cover of night, the colors having been offset due to the lack of light revealing them. I cut across the field, made sure to sneak as silently as possible past the actual house. Butch had left some lights on, which left me open to potientally getting shot if he happened to catch sight of me sneaking around on the property.
 
Still though, I made sure to stop by the pig pen to greet Bip and Bop, who snorted happily when they saw me. I patted their heads for a while before I finally moved on — continuing on my journey to the barn. I could see the dim light of a lantern shining through the window of Henry's little nook and it gave me hope that he was still awake since Henry couldn't stand being woken up. He was the polar opposite of a morning person, especially Victor.
 
I peeked into the barn and called out to Henry, though I didn't get an answer. Maybe he was sleeping?
 
Or maybe he hadn't heard me.
 
I stepped inside, calling out for him again, this time a little bit louder.
 
"

Henry!

" I call
 
My voice echoes off of the walls of the barn, my own vocals calling back out to me. I glanced around, hoping that I'd maybe get lucky to catch sight of Henry, though I didn't seem to catch any sight of him.

Maybe he's asleep.

Hesitantly, I crept over to the ladder leading up to his little nook on the second floor. It was the one that I'd climbed down only an hour or two before — when the guys and I left after Henry had kicked us out — told us to go home because it was late and he was sick of us. We'd left Henry alone up there — practically abandoned him just like always.

He'll get mad if he realizes the others aren't up here too.

But Henry had told us to — he'd been the one who had told us to go and who were we to overstay our welcome?
 
We were bad friends, maybe.
 
I approached the ladder, taking hold of it so that I could climb. I called up to Henry, my voice much quieter now. Henry didn't ever like being woken up, kinda like how I didn't — though I didn't get as violent as he did when awoken by Victor or Belch. It was only if Patrick woke me up that I got violent, since his face was the last one I liked to see when my eyes cracked open, being assaulted by light and his miserable mug.

Remember, [Nickname], if you ever tell anybody about this, I’ll kill you. You got that?

I climbed until I could see just enough behind the floor. I peered over at the old, ratty mattress. It was empty, but the lantern was still lit. I glanced around a bit more, throwing looks every which way as I searched for him — any sign of Henry.
 
But he wasn't there.
 
I sighed, [blowing some hair off of my forehead and out of my eyes/pushing my hair back]. I glanced back down at the barn floor then back up at the lantern. I climbed the rest of the way up, pulling myself upright until my feet were firmly planted on the ground. I shuffled over to the lantern sitting upon the old nightstand. I stared into the flame for a moment as the flashes came. In the little flame, I saw a crude campfire beneath it — heard the gentle crackle of the fire burning away the wood. I could taste the Jack Daniels on my tongue as I drank, laughing and talking with the guys as we sat around it. Belch was across from me, sitting in a red fold out chair with Henry next to him. Henry sat in a blue chair, also drinking. Patrick was on his other side, sitting on the ground and playing with his zippo — that stupid fucking Zippo lighter.

Ca-click

.
 
Victor was beside me, sitting right next to me on the fallen tree log, talking with Belch and Henry about something I couldn't quite catch on to. I was staring into the flames, the dizziness growing — along with the urge to pee. I'd drank too much, almost half of my own bottle of Jack Daniels that Victor now held in his hand. It waved around as he talked, gesturing wildly with his hands.
 
My eyes wandered, momentarily lingering on Patrick. Suddenly, as if he'd felt my stare on him, Patrick looked up, his eyes meeting mine as he smiled, throwing a wink my way. I cringed and shook my head, faking a gag that drew the attention of the rest of the guys.
 
"Gee, [First Name]." Victor taunts, playfully "Can't handle your alcohol?"
 
"I can handle it just fine when Patrick isn't being weird." I fire back, rolling my eyes
 
Henry, Victor, and Belch laughed around us as Patrick jumped into the conversation.
 
"Hey, you looked at me first, Sunshine." Patrick teases
 
"Oh God," Victor groans "Why don't you get a room?" 
 
"Or a tent." Belch jokes "It's kinda all we got."
 
"As if." I scoff "Patrick isn't my type."
 
"Oh, and what

is?

" Patrick teases
 
"Not you." I fire back "Plus, you wouldn't be able to handle a kiss from me anyway. You'd probably cream your pants or something.."
 
Henry laughed pretty hard at that, Belch and Victor too. Though, Belch and Victor's laughs fell into a taunting chorus of taunting ooh's. Belch said something about '[he's/she's/they've] got you there, Hockstetter.'
 
"We'll see about that, Sunshine." Patrick snarks out
 
Henry clapped Patrick on the back with a whistle.
 
"Don't feel too bad, Hockstetter." I clap back "You still have your hand to keep you company."
 
Henry, Belch, and Victor suddenly errupted into a loud cacophonous uproar of laughter. I glanced at Patrick, ignoring his heavy glare as I stuck my tongue out at him, laughing as well. As the laughter began to die down, I stood up and began walking off.
 
"Where are you going?" Henry asks
 
"I gotta piss, Henry." I reply "Unless you wanna join me."
 
I waggled my eyebrows at him as Belch, Patrick, and Victor shared another laugh. Henry replied to my suggestion with a disgusted wince, mentioning something about that being gross. Patrick whistled over at Henry whilst I dipped into the treeline, walking off far enough into the brush to where I would have some privacy.
 
I shook my head to clear away the thoughts and after realizing that I'd picked up the lantern at some point, I finally twisted the knob to turn off the gas. The light died slowly, leaving me cloaked in the darkness of the night as I placed it back on the nightstand. I turned away from it, carefully making my way over to the ladder. I knelt down at the edge of the upper level, feeling around for it so that I could avoid falling to my doom — though I supposed the most I'd end up with was a dislocated shoulder or perhaps a broken leg, depending on how I landed.

I just thought I'd get that kiss you owed me.

My hand touched on the wooden ring on the ladder, and I maneuvered my way into it. I glanced down, straining my eyes as I settled properly onto the rungs. I watched my feet move in the sluggishly lessening darkness as I cautiously climbed my way back down. I dislodged from the ladder upon verifying with a stop that I had most definitely reached solid ground. I shivered against the chilly air, stuffing my hands back into my jacket as I made my way back to the big barn doors that I'd left open.

Where is he if he's not in here?

I paused by the door, searching around the field for even the faintest sight of Henry, but there was none.
 
Absently, I glanced back at the house. My eyes scanned over it, settling on the familiar window nestled on the side of the house — Henry's bedroom. The light was clearly on and I cursed myself. He was inside, most likely getting ready for bed. Maybe I should've just gone to Victor's, I could've probably suffered at the hands of his snobby parents and creepy brother. I mean, I'd done it before. What was different about it now?
 
My feet moved before I registered them doing so. There was a ladder tucked away on the far side of the house, the clump of rusty metal leading up to the roof. His dad had been doing repairs to it over the summer — something about a leak in the roof. I could use that to get into Henry's room, knock on his window, get his attention if he wasn't asleep. Then again, who slept with the light on?

So, how are

your

parents, Sunshine?

I crept closer to the house, brushing past Bip and Bop's pen completely. They snorted at me — even came back up to the fence to greet me, maybe even say goodbye.
 
But I just kept walking, completely ignoring them.
 
I could feel their beady little piggy eyes on me. As if they were attempting to convince me with their little piggy stares alone to not do what I was trying to. It was like Bip and Bop were telling me not to grab the ladder — begging me, even. It was almost like the little piggy duo were trying to talk me out of it with their boating little piggy stares. They were warning me — reminding me that bothering Henry during now of all times was a bad idea. And of

course

I knew it was a bad idea. Somewheres deep, deep down inside of me — something more than Bip and Bop's beady little stares was nagging at me, trying to deter me from going up there.
 
But Bip and Bop were just pigs, they didn't understand people problems —

especially

not ones like mine.
 
I paused at the edge of the house, picking up the ladder and lifting it up off of where it rested on the house. The ladder was tall and much heavier than I anticipated, but I'd already settled into the idea — I'd already come all this way to see Henry, I just.. I needed to get up there. I knew his dad would flip out if he saw me, all I had to do was sneak up there on the ladder and I'd be fine. I just couldn't get caught doing this — or else Butch would most definitely shoot me, thinking I was a burglar probably.

What do you think the gang would say if they saw you like this?

I carefully set the top of the long ladder back against the house, right underneath his window. After checking the sturdiness, I took the first few steps.

God, what the fuck am I doing?

I continued to climb, keeping my focus on the window ahead. That was the end goal, after all. A few knocks at Henry's window would assure me entrance, I just knew it.

Why am I here?

Then again, this was Henry. Maybe he'd just flip out on me and send me home. I don't know why I expected him to just open his doors — or rather, his windows — to me. Henry wasn't me, after all. Henry didn't have those same kinds of expectations placed over his head.
 
Come to think of it, I hadn't had them either until last night.
 
I stopped at the top of the ladder. Henry's window — I'd made it.

Now what, stupid?

I peeked inside, covering my eyes in order to close off my peripheral — hide away any possible distractions that would take my attention away. I looked around, searching for Henry. He wasn't here either, so where was he?

Oh

.
 
I watched as his door creaked open — watched as Henry shuffled inside.

Tap, tap, tap

Suddenly, I paused my tapping upon catching the full sight of him. His face was red and he was.. crying? I squinted, further straining my eyes in order to see — to confirm. Henry was violently shaking as he gently shut the door behind himself, only pausing to wipe away the tears that crept down his flushed cheeks. His eyes went over to his dresser, placed right beside the door and his feet followed after the direction that those crying eyes led him in. I watched as he pulled the drawer open — watched as he rummaged around, searching through his sock drawer for something.
 
He suddenly pulled out a small container and closed the drawer carefully. I watched as he turned, fighting the urge to duck beneath the cover of the wall beneath his bedroom window. He shuffled over to his bed — practically sneaking judging by the way he walked. Henry unscrewed the cap and sat down. He set the container on his bed, softly — delicately so that he could tug his shirt off. I fought the urge to look away, my cheeks momentarily coloring before the color suddenly drained away only moments later when I saw the new bruises forming upon his skin — angrily blooming. More belt buckle shaped indents, deep, angry, and red. He picked up the container once more, some of the contents collecting on his fingers before he reached. He couldn't go far past his shoulders, though he tried. It was a sad sight, watching him struggle to apply the cream to what he could.
 
He did that for a bit, clearly wincing every so often when he'd accidentally pressed too hard, having been fighting too hard against his joints — his capacity to stretch. It went until he'd finally yielded, brokenly sobbing at his failures. He closed the container, his hands still shaking as he did so. Henry made his way back over to his dresser, where he put the container back, covering it back up with socks before he shut the drawer once more.
 
I should've left then, but the aching in my chest made me stay.
 
He turned around, eyes looking around the room when they suddenly landed on me. Henry's eyes went wide for a moment and I briefly considered taking off as Henry darted toward the bed, swiping his shirt off of the covers and hastily throwing it on. He made his way over to the window, face even redder than before — this time with veins popping out of his neck in anger. Anger at

me

.

What do you think the gang would say if they saw you like this?

"What the fuck are you

doing?

" Henry mouths, angrily

I bet Henry would be so fucking mad — mad he wasn't the one who got to take you like this. I'm your first, ain't I, Sunshine? The first one who gets to see you like this — gets to pop your cherry. Fuck. You're so tight. I shoulda done this sooner

.

"Can I come in?" I mouth back

Patrick, what the fuck are you doing? Go find your own piss spot.

I just thought I'd get that kiss you owed me.

I rubbed my arms for effect, emphasizing the ridiculous coldness that I was facing. Henry seemed to genuinely consider this for a moment, staring at me with furrowed eyebrows. He threw a nervous glance back at his bedroom door. It was shut, obviously, but I guess Henry was just nervous.
 
Nervous about his dad seeing me.
 
I patiently waited for Henry to finally open the damn thing as I shivered. Time passed by at a crawling pace as Henry turned back around, unlatched the window, and pushed it up. I joined in, my hand ghosting over his as I attempted to help him with it — not because I didn't think he could do it, but more because I wanted to get inside his house where it wasn't freezing. However, I lost my balance and cried out as I just about fell to my doom.
 
Thankfully though, Henry caught me.
 
"Get in here before he sees you." He whispers, agitated

I just thought I'd get that kiss you owed me.

Not so thankfully though, he practically dragged me into his room through the window, which kinda hurt because I didn't have time to maneuver over the hard edges of the windowsill. I yelped after having bumped my knee and Henry slapped a hand over my mouth as I steadied myself on both of my feet, happy to be back on solid ground.
 
"Shh, are you fuckin crazy?" He whisper-yells "Be quiet!"
 
"Sorry, Henry." I apologize, softly
 
My voice was muffled by his hand, but he seemed to have gotten the gist, even if it made him madder. He scowled at me and pointed to the window behind me.
 
"Shut that fuckin' window." He instructs "And wait here for me, okay? Don't move a goddamn inch."
 
I nodded and turned around, quiet as I could before I silently shut the window behind me. I relocked the latch — even made sure to double check its successfulness before I finally turned around. I kept as still as possible, despite the nervous wringing of my hands. I watched Henry as he crept over to his bedroom door. His steps were as quiet as ever — light as feathers. The door made no sound as Henry turned the doorknob and tugged the door open just enough for him to slip out, closing it shut right behind himself. He disappeared into the hallway for a long while and it left me too much time to start thinking again, which was what had initially gotten me into this mess.
 
Why was I even here? I could've just gone to Victor's or something. I didn't have to make even more shit difficult for Henry, but he'd been the first person I'd thought of. I mean, he'd done the same — or at least something similar last night, so wouldn't that make it okay for me to do it too? Well, my parents weren't psychos, so that definitely made a difference, I guess. I mean,

ugh

, I should've just napped on the porch. Why didn't I just nap on the porch?
 
The door once again opened and I watched as Henry slipped back inside. He was meticulous, careful with the way he closed the door behind him, making sure to lock it. He made his way back over to me, stopping short of only a couple steps. Henry punched my arm and I did my best to take it as silently as possible. I clasped my hand over the now injured spot, my mouth falling open in a silent cry of pain.

Patrick—Pat, stop! This isn't funny! You're hurting me!

Just relax, [First Name]. Let it happen. I wasn't planning on hurting you.

"You're fucking lucky he didn't hear you." Henry hisses "How much did you see?"
 
"How much did I—

What?

" I parrot, stunned

Well, not too much.. if you behave for me, I'll be nice

.

Henry looked like he was about to pop his lid, judging by the way he threw his arms up in the air — all exasperated and angry. Guilt tugged at my heart strings, why

did

I come here?
 
"I'm gonna fuckin' kill you!" He whisper-yells
 
A shove, he shoved me and I stumbled back, my back slamming against the window. I arched in reply, fighting back a quiet cry of pain as tears once again began to well up in my eyes. The tears didn't particularly stem from the physical pain shooting up through my back — though that was definitely part of it. 
 
"What the fuck made you think this was a good fuckin' idea? I thought I told your stupid ass to go the

fuck

home!" He snaps "What the fuck are you doing here?"
 
"I.. I just.." I stammer
 
I mean, what was I supposed to do? Tell him the truth?

What do you think the gang would say if they saw you like this?

"You just

what?

" He hisses lowly "What, you spying on me now? I told you I ain't no fuckin' baby!"

I need to stay for a little bit.

Don't have a cow or anything.

"No, it's not—it's not that, Henry. I—I just.." I choke out
 
Tears were crawling down my cheeks now. And why were they? Why

now?

I guess the dam had finally burst. Henry stepped back as I buried my face in my hands, my body shaking with not so quiet sobs. Suddenly, Henry lept into action, wrapping his arms around my waist to harshly pull me in so that he could slap a hand over my mouth in order to quiet me down. I only cried harder. He felt so

warm

, he didn't feel a bit like Patrick at all.
 
Henry furiously shushed me whilst throwing a glance back at his bedroom door. He stiffly waited, his ears searching for any potential sounds.
 
There were none.

That's right, baby. Keep crying. You look so good when you're crying — begging for me to take it out. Keep going, baby. I'm getting close.

Henry took the silence as a sort of okay to release me. He spun me around to face him, setting firm hands on my shoulders as he glared at me.
 
"What the fuck is going on with you?" He questions "You've been weird all fucking day and now you're here and—

Why

are you here? Why the fuck are you crying?"
 
I feverishly rubbed away the tears streaming down my face with the palms of my hands. I quietly sobbed, unable to meet Henry's gaze even in the slightest.
 
"I don't know." I hiccup "I just—I

needed

to see you again. I can't stand Vic's family and Belch lives too far away."
 
"Couldn't you have bothered Hockstetter, then?" He snaps

Then again, maybe I'll just keep you for myself. I could take you right now, lock you up in my basement..

Henry seemed to realize judging by my violent reaction to the suggestion that Patrick was also out of the question. He stood there for a long while, eyes flickering between each of mine as he scanned me, seemingly debating with himself.
 
We didn't speak for a long while.
 
"Okay." He suddenly breathes, repeating it as if to confirm his answer to himself "Okay. Just—Just

don't

fucking.. stay for too long. I don't wanna deal with this shit in the morning."
 
"Thank you." I sob
 
"Yeah, yeah." He dismisses, warning "If you tell anyone, I'll kill you."

Remember, [Nickname], if you ever tell anybody about this, I’ll kill you. You got that?

Henry turned, muttering under his breath as he started to make his way back over to his bed. Only pausing once he realized that I wasn't immediately following him. He met my eyes this time and impatiently gestured for me to follow him.
 
"Come on." Henry nudges, urgently
 
I finally moved, my joints finally unlocking, allowing me to go after him. Henry plopped down on his bed, the mattress lightly bouncing and quietly creaking under his weight. He reached over and picked up the container of salve along with its lid then busied himself with closing it as I sat down beside him.
 
"You're fucking annoying, you know that?" He grumbles
 
"I'm sorry." I apologize
 
"Don't—..

Don't

. " He dismisses "Don't fuckin.. apologize. I hate when you do that shit."
 
Henry set the now closed container on his floor and kicked it under the bed with the back of his foot. finally looked over at me after a moment. I wiped more of my tears and nodded at him, even if he didn't bother to look at me while I did it. Henry stared down at his feet for a little while, before he checked the clock on the wall. It's ticking was obnoxious and it reminded me of those annoying clocks in the school.
 
Henry suddenly shook his head with a small huff before he suddenly laid back on his bed. He observed the ceiling before finally looking over at me, noticing my blatant staring.
 
"Stop crying." Henry commands, gruffly "You're makin me fucking feel bad and I haven't even done anything."
 
"I'm sorry," I apologize "I just... I had a rough day."
 
"You and me both." He agrees
 
Henry suddenly sat up, his back popping in protest. He stretched, slightly wincing at the strain of his assumed injuries. Awkwardly, he reached over to me, petting my shoulder just like I'd done for him that one night he'd come to visit.
 
"I'm.. sorry.. about that.. and shit." He tells me in a hesitant manner "Like.. hitting you or whatever."
 
I finally pulled my attention off of him with a sniffle. The tears had finally stopped flowing, leaving only a few left to trail down my face. I rubbed them away with the sleeve of my sweatshirt before allowing my hand to settle atop his. The hand froze in place, his muscles tensing.
 
"Thanks, Henry." I sniffle "That means a lot."
 
"Yeah, well." Henry lightly snaps, flustered
 
He yanked his hand out from under mine, rubbing it like it'd just gone and smacked him.
 
"Don't get so fucking sentimental about it and shit. I'm not gonna fucking do it again." He hisses
 
He crossed his arms over his chest and settling for once again avoiding eye contact with me. He put his focus staring at the wall beside him, the one where the edge of his bed and his little nightstand sat up against. It was nice that Henry had tried to put some effort into comforting me, just as I had done for him. I guess it wasn't really either of our things, which was why he seemed to be so quick to get snappy about it.

I need to stay for a little bit.

Don't have a cow or anything.

Momentary silence settled around us and I resigned to just look around the room. The walls weren't anything special, mostly bare save for a few pictures — all of them of a much younger Henry with his mom and his dad. They looked happy in those pictures, especially the one hanging above his dresser. In that picture, Henry's mom was holding a baby Henry, her smile big and wide as she stood under the protective arm of Henry's dad. Butch was in his sheriff's uniform then and they were all standing in front of the farm. The picture had been taken in the driveway, so everything to do with the farm — including their house was in the background behind him. Judging by the weather, it had to have been taken during the spring, maybe the summer. They looked so happy then, even baby Henry was cheerful.
 
Henry didn't look all that cheerful in most of the photos I had of the gang and I hanging up on my walls back home.
 
Come to think of it, we all had copies of most of those photos, so why hadn't Henry hung any of them up? Maybe it was because of his dad.. maybe he didn't want them. Henry wasn't the biggest picture person, that much I knew. But the thought process made my aching head dizzy. He didn't like pictures and he didn't like any real.. affection, I guess was a good word for it.. but then why had he come to my house last night? I still hadn't gotten an answer — though I hadn't really asked.

Maybe I could..

"Hey.. Henry?" I suddenly ask
 
"What?" He snaps, startled as if he'd forgotten I was there
 
"Why

did

you come to my house last night?" I inquire
 
Henry sat there for a bit, wringing his hands as he stared off into what I assumed was space. I patiently waited for a reply and just as I — against my better judgement — was about to ask him again, he answered.
 
"I don't know." He confesses "You live the closest to me."
 
"Oh." I acknowledge "Okay."
 
I didn't honestly know what it was that I was expecting as an answer, I really didn't.
 
Still, for some reason, sadness tugged at my heart strings, playing them like a violin built to bring on the worst of depressive episodes. Why did I feel so guilty? Why did I feel so ashamed?

I shouldn't have come here.

Maybe Bip and Bop had the idea right. I mean, they lived with the Bowers family.

Stop thinking about the fucking pigs, [First Name]. You sound fucking insane.

Maybe I shouldn't have come up here after all. I mean, Henry clearly hadn't wanted me — or anybody here. Especially after what happened with his dad earlier. Why had I come back after he'd told us to go home? Belch had dropped me off and everything. Why hadn't I just gone to Victor's? I mean, Victor lived only two blocks away and Henry lived a little bit further down the road. I could've dealt with his creepy brother and snobby parents, they only spoke in passive-aggression and cash. That had to have been easier to deal with than this.
 
Though, with one look over at Henry's thoughtful, sleepy face had me thinking otherwise.

He looks kinda sweet like that..

Gross, [First Name]. Don't be a fucking weirdo. That's

Henry

.

I looked away from him, mentally beating myself with a stick. I settled for fidgeting with my fingers and staring at my feet. Maybe if I just didn't look at him then I wouldn't have weird thoughts anymore.
 
Fucking hell was I tired. All I wanted to do was take a nap, maybe one that I'd never wake up from. It didn't sound so bad, especially with Henry here. Maybe he wouldn't mind if I slept here for a bit. Maybe he would.. maybe..
 
"Do you mind if I.. lay down?" I suddenly question
 
"Sure. Whatever. I don't care." He tells me "I was about to go to sleep when you fuckin showed up anyway."
 
Henry climbs over to the other side of his bed, quickly sliding underneath the covers after I stood up off the bed. I shuffle over beside him and climb into bed as well.
 
"Hey, Henry?" I ask once more
 
"Yeah?" He replies
 
"Um.. I'm sorry ..about today." I confess, the tears returning "I know you don't like me apologizing and shit but I just.. I really fucked everything up, didn't I?"
 
"What the hell are you talking about?" He scoffs
 
Henry rolls over to face me, and wraps his arm around my waist, easily pulling me closer to him.
 
"You didn't fuck anything up. It was the same day as every fucking day. Now stop crying. I already said stop fucking crying, didn't I?" He grumbles "Just go the fuck to sleep or something."
 
I wipe a few of my tears away as Henry frowns at me. He reaches up with his other hand and slips it underneath the pillow my head was laying on. I close my eyes, and scoot even closer to him, taking in his warmth. Henry stiffens as I press my face against his chest, and it takes him a moment before he finally wraps his arm back around me.
 
"Just.. go to sleep." He tells me, a bit more sad "You're still makin' me feel bad an' shit."
 
I finally allow my eyes to droop closed as I take in his smell. Instead of the boisterous B.O that I'd experienced the first night that he'd shown up at my house, I smelled coconut and axe body wash.
 
"Goodnight, Henry." I whisper
 
"Yeah, yeah." He grumbles in reply "Night."
 
I reached out, pulling the cord of his lap down, flicking the light off. I'd deal with the consequences later, when I woke up. Henry could get properly mad at me then — for sneaking over and crashing his.. whatever that was. Right now, I just wanted him next to me, I'd slept so much better last night after he'd come over anyway.. so maybe just this once it would be okay.
 
Just this one time.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Memories and voices echoed in my head, a combination that in turn brought me here. The barrens were quiet, too quiet. My entire body ached, angrily — violently protesting as I forced myself to sit up, catching sight of myself. I picked at the torn fabric of my shirt, it was holy — utterly tattered after having been ripped to shreds. My pants weren't anywhere in sight, no matter how hard I glanced around, searching for them. My bare legs felt cold against the morning air, the hand shaped bruises aching. I tried to move and could only cry out when I tried to pick myself up off of the ground. I forced myself upright, feeling something warm and sticky leaking down my inner thighs. I reached down, tears already welling up because I knew what it was — deep, deep down I already knew. I retracted my fingers, already sobbing when I caught sight of the blood now coating them. It came from me — came from inside me. "Come on." I hear I looked up, catching sight of Henry — the tail end of his gesture to follow him before he had started walking off. "Henry?" I murmur, my brain catching up as I yell "Henry, where are you— Henry, wait! " I forced myself up onto my feet, ignoring the burning sensation of my muscles and the achy creaking in my bones. I took a shaky step forward, calling after Henry as he continued walking. "Henry!" I call I took off running after him, stumbling and wincing at the growing burning sensation between my legs. Where was he going? Why was he leaving me here? He saw — he saw me, Henry must've seen what had happened, so why was he leaving me behind? I desperately chased after the familiar sight of him — the brown of his dad's bomber jacket. Each time I thought I was coming close enough to catch up, he only seemed to get farther away. Henry was too fast for me and he was starting to disappear into the brush. " Henry! " I scream "Don't leave me here! Wait up!" He was gone just like that, but I kept running — ignoring the growing exhaustion in my legs as I sprinted. The air was cold against my feverishly aching skin, but the panic flowing deep in my veins didn't leave me room to enjoy it. I was lost, hopelessly and utterly lost. Then I tripped. I went face first into the ground, the familiar agony of chipping my tooth on a rock and the light taste of iron on my tongue overwhelming me. I forced myself upright, about to start running again when I saw it — his dad's jacket hanging lazily off of a branch. Why had he left it there? When had he taken it off? He must've come this way. I threw myself to it, a mix of running until I tumbled to the ground and furiously crawling towards it. Once finally close, I reached out, grabbing it and snatching it off of the branch. I held it tightly, fearful that it would disappear if I didn't. I searched the pockets — for what I wasn't sure because I clearly hadn't found what I'd been looking for to provide me that answer. I looked around, desperately. " Henry! " I scream " Henry! " "He's not coming." A raspy voice suddenly tells me I whipped around with a yelp, recoiling from the new person, or rather creature standing beside me. It was the clown, the one that had seemed to have picked up the alarming habit of following me around as of late. He stood up, stepping back so that I could catch a better view of him, and I just about screamed when I saw why. I tried to scream but nothing came out when he smiled at me, leaving his inhuman, razor sharp teeth on full display. In one hand, he held a red 'I 🖤 Derry' balloon and in the other, he raised up the severed head of Henry Bowers. I stared at it with wide, teary eyes. " Wh-What did you do? " I screech The clown creature tossed the head at me and it spun through the air, prompting the open, meaty cavity of what had once been a full neck to sloppily spray the remaining thick, red liquid everywhere — as if it had been a punctured shaving cream can shooting through the air. Droplets landed on my face, a couple entering my open mouth as I screamed. I scrambled back in order to avoid catching it, instead allowing it to hit the ground beside me with a harsh 'thump'. I struggled to catch my breath, taking in rapid, sharp pants as I stared into the milky colored, lifeless eyes of Henry. I furiously rubbed away the blood that had pooled onto my thighs, sobbing and screaming as the creature only laughed at my turmoil and panic. Henry's mouth began spasming, his tongue clicking as what was left of his vocal chords struggled to make up for their new handicap. "Wake.. ..up." The severed head of Henry chokes out me " W-What? " I question through my hysterics "Up." He clicks out "Get up." 
Get up.
 
Wake up.
 
WAKE THE FUCK UP.
 My eyes cracked open and I groaned as light assaulted my vision. I closed my eyes once more, in an attempt to save myself from the ache that came with the adjustment and perhaps even fall back asleep. However, Henry's firm hand gently shaking my shoulder didn't exactly allow me to do that. "Five more minutes.." I groggily reply I sleepily reached up, about to push Henry's hand off when he suddenly snatched it. He dragged me — forcing me to flip over onto my opposite side as my eyes once again cracked open. "[First Name], get the fuck up." Henry grumbles "You were fucking kicking me in your sleep." Henry released my hand, allowing me to blink and rub away the lingering sleepiness and gross crustiness. My eyes opened once more, allowing me to see Henry in full view. He was situated halfway upright, leaning most of his weight onto his left hand, the one that was now right next to my face on the pillow. I yawned, tiredly stretching as Henry scoffed at me, shaking his head and muttering to himself in displeasure. "What time is it?" I question "Too late for you to be fucking kicking me and muttering to yourself." He snaps "My bed is too fuckin' small for you to be doing that shit." I settled back down into the warm bed, tucking my hands underneath my head as I stared up at Henry. "Sorry, Henry." I apologize tiredly Henry rolled his eyes, though I didn't miss the way that his face and neck lightly flushed when he looked away from me. He sat up the rest of the way, allowing the blanket we were apparently sharing to slide further down his shirtless torso. Shirtless — Henry was shirtless, leaving his bruises and wounds on display. His shoulders were still covered in those thin, red clusters of slices, some of them looking even fresher than the rest — deeper, even. Henry seemed to notice my staring when he looked back at me. His eyes momentarily widened as he hurriedly leaned over me, rummaging around on the floor for the shirt he'd apparently discarded at some point whilst I'd slept. I forced myself to sit up, allowing him more room to move. "Henry.." I trail off "What-" "Don't—Don't fucking say anything ." He barks "You didn't see shit, okay?" Henry snatched his shirt off of the floor and threw it on, hurriedly slipping into it. He hadn't done it right, so his head got stuck in one of his sleeves rather than going where it was supposed to. He cursed to himself, his face growing redder by the moment. I reached out, something in me suggesting that I help him into his shirt. "Henry, let me-" I try "No!" He snaps He jerks away from me and pulls the shirt back off, veins already prominent in his neck as he struggled to put the shirt back on in his hurry. "This is all your fucking fault." He curses "I was trying to take care of this shit when you showed up and-" I offer "Do you want me to-" "No. I don't." He interrupts "I want you to shut the fuck up." I finally faltered and closed my mouth, resigning myself to watching him finally put his shirt on the right way. He climbed off of the bed — climbed over me so he could get off, anyway. He pulled his shirt over his head and slipped his arms through the sleeves. They were short since it was just an old white T-shirt, so it didn't help to cover much. "Fucking—pain in my ass." He grumbles "I don't know why the fuck I let you in anyway. Shoulda' left you out there to fucking freeze or something." I frowned, the guilt from earlier returning to slap me in the face. It had really hurt to hear him say that, but then again, I probably deserved it. After all, this had been what I'd been expecting to wake up to, wasn't it? I brought my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them, choking back the growing sadness in my chest — ignoring how it made my throat chalky as it clawed its way up to my mouth. I couldn't believe I was about to cry again. What the fuck was wrong with me? Henry had said plenty of shit like that before. Why did tonight have to be any fucking different?

What would the gang say if they saw you like this?

"I'm sorry, Henry." I apologize, choking up "I don't know why I came here either." "Yeah, well, whatever." He dismisses "Just keep your fucking mouth shut about it." "Right." I nod, defeatedly "I will." I turned away from him with a sniffle. I quietly rubbed at my eyes, poorly hiding my newest crying fit from him. "Are you fucking crying again?" Henry barks, though it was still quiet "I told you to stop doing that!"

Stop fucking crying. They're gonna hear us.

My crying grew worse and I now furiously wiped away the waterfall of tears. I clenched my teeth, fighting my damndest to will them away — to make them fucking stop. Hadn't I humiliated myself enough for one day? Why couldn't I seem to catch a fucking break? What the hell was wrong with me? Why did I feel so nauseous? "I'm sorry." I hiccup "I'm trying." "Does it really mean that fucking much to you? Do you really want to fucking help with it that bad?" He snarls "No, Henry, really." I try to assure, sobbing "I won't if you don't want me to I just—I just-" "If I let you do it then will you stop fucking crying?" He huffs " 'Cause your always crying thing is getting really fucking annoying, [Last Name]." I sucked in a deep breath in an attempt to calm myself down, though it didn't work. "I mean, you looked like you were.. y'know.. you couldn't reach some of the spots on your back, Henry. So I just thought that-" "Fine." Henry snarls, his resolve to anger crumbling "It's under the bed. Just..—just grab it and don't say nothin'. Not to me or to fucking anyone, got it?" I nodded, wiping away more of my tears. I went to turn over so that I could reach under the bed, but Henry stopped me by grabbing the back of my shirt and dragging me back. I almost yelped in surprise — almost . I would've, if it weren't for the fact that for a moment, Henry hadn't looked so much like Henry because for a split second he'd looked a lot more like Patrick.

Patrick—Pat, stop! This isn't funny! You're hurting me!

Henry almost got in my face — almost. But, he settled for where he was, nearly hovering over me almost a foot away, glaring daggers down at me. "I'm not fucking around, [Last Name]." He growls "You don't say a fucking word about this. Do. you. got. it?" "I—I got it, Henry." I assure him "Don't worry about me." Henry released me, roughly throwing me back — almost hard enough to send me tumbling off of the bed. Luckily, I caught myself on the edge just in time. Henry settled into a different spot on the bed as I leaned over the edge of the mattress. I peered under the bed where I rummaged around. A dirty sock here, a mysterious shoe box there, the cream — yes, the container of cream. I snatched it up, a light brush of triumph passing me by as I sat back up on my knees. I glanced over at Henry, watching as he carefully pulled his shirt over his head. My eyes momentarily widened at the sight of his injuries up close. The once red marks had grown into full blown black and blue bruises and the little cluster of sloppy overcrossing red lines — both recently scabbed over and nearly healed, most of them layered overtop of old, thick scars of the same shape that were spread out on his shoulders. 
Oh.. Henry..
 I didn't feel so sad about my own problems anymore, at least. Though, Henry wasn't one in favor of pity, so I kept my mouth shut. Now would've been the worst time to ask about those things. Even though he was letting me help him get those areas that he'd missed earlier, when I'd been at his window outside.. I thickly swallowed the spit collecting in my mouth and carefully moved to sit behind him. I settled into a cross-legged position for my own comfort and unscrewed the top of the container, just as he'd done. I stared at the contents for a moment, my brain lagging behind the situation. "How do you want me to.." I trail off "Just fucking do it." Henry bites out "I don't care how the fuck you do it, just don't go too rough." "Okay." I breathe, nodding, adding another to confirm to myself "Okay. I got it." "And stop fucking talking." Henry snaps "I don't wanna fucking talk right now." Shakily, I dipped my fingers into the cream and immediately felt the tingle of growing numbness in my fingertips. It was numbing cream — I didn't even know they sold numbing cream. How did I not know they sold numbing cream? The white liquid was slimy and clumpy, that was for sure. One quick glance at the expiration date told me that it was past the point of being finely aged. So, I made a note to eventually grab some more when I had the chance.  Nervous and quaking, I gently — hesitantly smeared the clump of expired numbing cream onto one of the particularly big bruises on his back. Henry tensed as I did this, which made me flinch. "Is this okay?" I check "Yeah, it's fine or whatever." Henry huffs "Didn't I tell you to stop fucking talking?" I made sure to be gentle when I rubbed it the rest of the way in, spreading some of the excess clumps out to other areas of his back. "Right." I say "Sorry." "I'm gonna fucking punch you if you keep saying that." He snaps "Sorry." I add, reflexively Henry sharply whipped around, grabbing my wrist mid-application. He yanked me in close, his grip like iron and his breath like fire when he came just inches from my face. I felt myself flushing at the sudden closeness. "Stop. Fucking. Talking." He demands "I'm not gonna tell you again." I gulped, nodding. Henry lingered there a bit longer, glaring daggers into my eyes as if to drive the point home. I gently tugged my hand back and Henry released it after throwing a quick, silent glance down at what I assumed was my lips before he suddenly turned back around. My brain momentarily short circuited as I sat there, staring holes into the back of his head. I was completely frozen whilst Henry was completely mobile, finally relaxing back into his previous hunched position.

C'mon, it's just a little kiss. Don't be such a bitch about it.

"Well, are ya' just gonna fucking sit there now?" Henry snarks "You wanted to fucking do this." "Yeah." I reply, letting out the breath I'd been apparently holding "Yeah. Right. Okay." My joints and muscles suddenly unlocked, allowing me to go back to what I was doing — or at least try to. I dipped my fingers back into the cream and continued to spread it around the other areas of his back. At least Henry had begun to relax — finally got used to me touching him. It didn't take long to finish the task and at least I'd stopped crying at some point, that was quite nice. Although, my head hurt a little bit, but it had hurt earlier when I'd first woken up to Henry shaking me, so maybe that was just a given for being an overly emotional pansy. I bit back the incoming apology, instead settling for rubbing the rest of the leftover cream around his injured back. Henry quietly sighed, letting out a breath as I massaged it into his neck. "Are you okay?" I ask, unable to catch myself beforehand "Yeah." Henry replies, surprising me "Had a crick in my neck and shit for a couple days." "Oh." I say, lamely "Okay." I stayed on that spot, pushing into it with my thumb in order to work out the small knot. After that, my work was pretty much finished, so I closed the container. Henry threw a glance back at me as I closed it up, watching as I set it over on his nightstand. "Thanks for …that.. and shit." Henry thanks "Yeah." I reply "No problem, Henry." I crawled back underneath the blankets, settling back into the lingering warmth as Henry put his shirt back on. Henry waited for a moment after that, once again staring at me. Though, when I finally dared to look at him, he'd already made the move to climb back under his blanket, settling next to me. Nothing was sad between us. Not about what I'd just done, nothing about my seemingly uncontrollable crying fits, notthing about the fact that for a split second he'd looked like he'd been ready to kiss me, and nothing about the way he settled in beside me. Even when he'd wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me into him — against him, nothing was said between us. All that happened was that I reached up and once again pulled the cord to turn the light off. Though, as I drifted back off into sleep — with my heart gently thumping in my chest and my face gently flushing — I couldn't help but wonder... 
What would I have done if Henry had kissed me?

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

I don't understand why I always ended up here. If it wasn't deep into the barrens, it was here — the kissing bridge. I glanced around, unnerved by the deafening quiet surrounding me. When I was awake — when I'd pass through the bridge with the guys, Belch at the steering wheel, Henry in the passenger's seat, and with Patrick and Victor on each side of me — there would be sound. The loud lyrics of an Iron Maiden CD — or whatever Belch had put on. Sometimes I could hear the birds chirping and tweeting from where they were tucked away in their nests among the trees. Other times it would be the guys talking around me, I never really participated in their discussions anymore — come to think of it. I often didn't have the energy. I used to have that kind of energy — I used to join in no matter the topic and together we'd talk all the time. We used to get loud, I used to hype the conversation up until we were passionately shouting at each other, despite only being a couple feet away. Back then, they'd dubbed me the comedic relief. Back then, I always had something to say — something that would make them laugh. Either a casual deadpan followed by a line I hadn't intended to be funny and eventually, as I built up more confidence, I'd toss out some empty, flirty line that carried no weight whatsoever. Something that would make the tips of Belch's ears turn red, something that would make Henry flush — make his eyes go wide as he tries to sputter out a reply, something that would make Victor roll his eyes, something that would make Patrick snicker and ask when I wanted to follow through with it. I should've known that that would get me into trouble eventually. At least so far none of them had tried to address the blatant shift in my personality. None of them had mentioned how I was always on high alert, how defensive I'd been. Victor and Henry had been kind enough to not push for answers when I broke down crying or when I threw up. And I hoped it would stay that way. I took a few steps forward, trying my damndest to mentally prepare for what I was about to see this time. I sucked in a deep breath as I took the finally step into the cover and turned to look out of one of the windows. There was a hand, skinny and boney, gripping a pencil. It was scribbling something out on a piece of paper that had been placed over the cover of a history textbook. I see long jean-clad legs, one crossed over the other two keep the textbook in its place on the person's lap. I can't make out what the person is writing, but judging by the state of the floor — the crumpled papers scattered everywhere, this hadn't been their first go at writing the letter. I turned around, looking to the window behind me. The letter was now folded — having been tucked away into an envelope. I could make out the writing on the top saying 'Henry'. I watched as the letter was passed on to a familiar face — Jacob Watt. He looked disinterested from where he stood beneath the bleachers, smoking a cigarette, but he took the letter anyway. Why was it being given to him if it was for Henry? Then he spoke, though it was one-sided despite the fact that the author of the letter was replying. "So, you want me to give this to him?" Jacob asks He watched, listening to the person replying. "Nah, man. I'm not gonna open it." He dismisses "I got better shit to do but this'll cost ya, Trick." More listening, more waiting. Then the boney fingers produce a wad of cash, flicking through it. The hands count it out, before passing it over to Jacob. The hands linger there for a moment, gripping Jacob's tightly as something is said. "Trick, man, we got a history. You were doing this too for a while and you know how I run my business." Jacob replies, appearing anxious "Plus frankly, you scare the shit out of me." The hands released Jacob's, leaving the cash there. The person stepped back. I turned away, questions buzzing in my head until I caught sight of a window that silenced them. I walked over to it, placing my hands down on the edge of the window so that I could peer inside. Henry and I were in his room, lying next to one another, completely asleep. Henry's arm was draped over my side and he was snoring. I was tucked up into his chest, peacefully sleeping against him. My face flushed and I looked away, catching sight of something in the corner. I couldn't see what it was — because it had been too dark in that corner, almost as if that corner led off into a black hole. As if it had been swallowed up by the abyss. I squinted, straining my eyes to adjust to the darkness but I'd leaned too far and suddenly went tumbling through the window. I screamed, landing with a heavy thud on the ground, but neither Henry or I stirred from where we laid on the bed. I scrambled up, looking around wildly until I caught sight of my hands. I gasped, eyes wide and wild when I realized that I could see the floor beneath them through the transparency. I glanced down, choking a panicked noise as I patted myself. My body was solid, but I was completely see through. Why was I see through? What the fuck was-  Creeeeaaaak . I whipped around with a yelp, eyes landing on the now open door. I stepped back a few steps, tumbling to my feet and scrambling back as a pair of yellow eyes suddenly flashed in greeting in the darkness of the hallway. "What the fuck? " I howl  Creeeeeeeeeeeeeeak . The door was opening and the eyes were rising — standing tall above me, morphing into a tall, poofy silhouette. I didn't dare look away — I couldn't. "St-Stay away!" I shout The figure stepped inside, its head dipping under the doorframe to accommodate the creature's massive size. I crawled back until my back suddenly hit the bedframe. I maintained eye contact with the creature. "Welcome back, [First Name]." The raspy voice rumbles In a split second, I threw a glance over to the wall I'd tumbled from. I could make it, I just needed to climb the dresser and boost myself up to it. I could do it — I could- "Ah, ah, ah." The voice rumbles "Naughty kids don't get to leave.. haven't I taught you anything?" The voice — it had begun to change. My breath stuttered in my chest as Patrick stepped out from the darkness, right where the strange silhouette had been. "You still owe me a kiss, Sunshine." He smiles "Now come here." Patrick suddenly leapt and I threw myself aside just in time with a broken scream. Tears streamed down my face as I threw myself up to my feet and made a mad dash for the dresser. I threw myself onto it, the contents on top falling and crashing as I scrambled to steady myself on top. Adrenaline pumped through my veins, blocking out the ache in my shin from where it had slammed into the corner. "Oh don't have a cow, [First Name]." Patrick snarls "What if Henry hears you?" I jumped, my fingers hooking around the edge of the window. I kicked off of the wall in an attempt to further boost myself as I pulled, but something caught one of my ankles, prompting one of my hands to slip. My body swung around, one hand left to grip the edge as I met the eyes of Patrick as he struggled to pull me down. He was grinning up at me, wicked and mean. "What would he think?" Patrick taunts "What would he say if he knew what you'd let me do?" I kicked with my free foot, short, heavy breaths coming out as I pounded the back of my shoe covered foot into his fingers. "Let go!" I scream "I didn't want it! It was a joke! Let go of me!" I landed a sharp kick to his face and Patrick's grip faltered. He slipped, the floor suddenly opening to swallow him as he cried out, reaching for me as he disappeared beneath the floorboards. I flipped back around, wasting no time processing as I used the wall for leverage once more, boosting myself in order to grasp the window with my other hand. I pulled, kicking and climbing into it. When I finally reached high enough, I practically threw myself into the opening. Then, I wasn't there anymore. Everything was black and quiet and warm . I was tired, hoping that I could simply fall back asleep, but the snoring above me prevented me from doing so. I didn't think too much of the snoring, though, because the warmth made me want to stay in bed. It was strange, my bed was never this warm. Why was my bed so warm? My eyes cracked open and I was met with skin — Henry's skin, why was Henry-  Oh . The events from the previous night hit me like a train. My eyes widened and I cautiously looked up, careful not to stir him. Henry's hair was tousled and messy with sleep. He was snoring, his mouth left wide open. A little puddle of drool leaking out of the corner of his mouth had collected on the pillow. He looked weirdly peaceful like that and I should've been grossed out that a bit of the drool had dampened my hair but I just—Henry—he just.. 
He looked so sweet.
 I wanted to shake my head, beat my thoughts away, but I couldn't — not without waking him, at least. Carefully maneuvering, I peeked downward, noticing the arm draped over my waist above the blanket. My face flushed and my heart pounded in my chest. I stifled a yelp as Henry shifted, mumbling something incoherent as he tugged me closer against him. My eyes widened further once I felt something suddenly poke at my thigh and my face burned with a deep fire. Was that.. was that his.. Oh, God . I needed to get out of here before he woke up. I swallowed the wetness in my dry mouth. I needed to get home — needed to get out of here before the guys came in to wake Henry up for school. It was still dim outside, though bits of dawn were beginning to shine. I didn't have much time. I needed to get out of here, fast. Cautiously, I reached down, gently picking his hand up. I moved slowly — painfully sluggish with the way that I lifted it off of me. I kept my eyes on his face, freezing at even the slightest pause of breath — each stuttered snore. Then he rolled right over and I let out a quiet breath of relief. Carefully, I pushed myself off and slid out of bed, letting my feet touch the cold wood of his bedroom floor. I hissed at the feeling, but forced myself to stand up on it. I crept over to my shoes, which I'd assumedly toed off of my feet shortly before I'd laid down in his bed. Though I fully didn't remember doing it. Carefully, I picked them up and placed them in front of me, slipping my feet into them. I glanced around, searching for my jacket that I also hadn't remembered removing. Throwing a glance over toward the edge of Henry's bed, I saw it, lying on the floor with some other clothes — Henry's past outfits, I assumed. I didn't see a laundry basket anywhere, so I guess that was just where he kept them. Tip toeing over, I picked up the jacket, pausing to observe the pile of clothes. They were just Henry's usual outfits, a T-shirt here, a pair of pants there. Though.. I bit my lip. What the fuck was I thinking? Would I really just.. I reached down, picking up one of the longer sleeves shirts. Henry wouldn't miss it, that much I knew. Plus, it was probably cold out and I had some others clothes left at my house from the guy's anyway. A big jacket Belch had once lent me when it was cold along with a couple of random band tees he'd forgotten, some random medium sized shirts and a couple pairs of pants from Victor because he always forgot something, that one Tom & Jerry shirt Patrick liked so much.. God, I needed to get rid of that one. Quietly, I slipped the shirt on over my head. It smelled a lot like Henry, which was a given since it was his and it was dirty. 
You're such a fucking creep, [First Name].

What would the gang say if they saw you like this?

I slipped my jacket over my shoulders and zipped it up, throwing my hood over my head. I made my way over to the window, trying my damndest to quietly flip the latch, but apparently the latch decided to work against me. It switched over to being unlock with a loud click. I sucked in a deep breath as Henry suddenly stirred. Guiltily, I threw a look over at him, watching as he momentarily rolled over, bleary eyes looking around the room until they landed on me. "What the.." I hear Henry groan "I—um, you're dreaming, Henry." I whisper "I'm what?" He murmurs "You're dreaming." I lie "Go back to bed." Henry, surprisingly, laid right back down at that. Within moments, he was out again. I released a breath that I hadn't realized I'd been holding, feeling my anxiety melt away as I returned back to the task at hand. 
I can't believe that fucking worked. Oh my God.
 Carefully, I slid the window up and leaned out to check. Luckily, the ladder was still where I'd left it and I'd never been more thankful for anything ever. I climbed out and steadied myself on the rungs, momentarily panicking as the ladder briefly shifted beneath my weight. I steadied myself against the windowsill and once assured I wasn't going to fall and die to death, I pulled the window back down, shutting it. Hurriedly — mostly because I was desperate to get off of the murder ladder — I climbed down. Once on the ground, I lifted up the ladder, just as I'd done last night. Only this time, I returned it back to it's previous place on the other side of the house. I waved to Bip and Bop's pen before I made my way across the field and back onto the road. Then, upon reaching said road, I immediately broke into a sprint. Adrenaline pumped through my veins, giving me enough strength to book it the whole way home. Upon reaching home, I rechecked the lock, thankful that my parental units had actually fucking remembered to leave it unlocked this time. I rushed inside, quickly yet quietly making my way upstairs and into my room. I practically threw the door open, but caught it before it hit the wall. I, much less aggressively, shut it behind me and backed up against it. Throwing a glance over to my clock, I had at least half an hour before Vic and Belch would be here. I could fake being asleep, it wouldn't have been hard. Quickly, I unzipped my jacket and tossed it off into a random corner. I tugged Henry's shirt over my head and tossed it onto the bed before I kicked my shoes off and unbuckled my jeans. I popped the button and unzipped the fly and pushed them off, stepping out of them just in time to jump into bed. I grabbed Henry's shirt and stuffed it under my pillow before I laid down. I dragged my blankets over top of me and got into a comfortable enough position to lay in. So that was what I did, I laid there, my heart pounding in my ears as my breathing was left rough and short. Then it hit me. What the fuck was I doing? I showed up at Henry's in the middle of the night where I cried about stupid shit and ended up falling asleep next to him. Then, I woke up to him shaking me and helped him with his back. Then I woke up again to him snuggling me and pressing his thing against me. And these thoughts? The hotness in my face from just thinking about it. I should've been grossed out, I should've poked his buttons about it like the me that I had been before the fourth of July would have.  What was worse was that Henry didn't feel a thing like Patrick. Where Patrick was boney and pokey in places, Henry was firm and soft. Henry hadn't tried anything like Patrick had.. Henry had held me and it had felt so nice. Nobody held me like that, nobody really hugged me or anything of that sort. The gang and I weren't big on touching each other unless we were trying to tear one another off of each other or if we were trying to kick the shit out of each other. My bedroom door suddenly opened and I momentarily tensed as someone stepped inside. "At least [First Name] doesn't snore like Henry." Victor whispers "Yeah, I guess." Belch whispers back "Now go wake [him/her/them] up before Henry gets impatient." "Yeah, yeah. I'm going, I'm going." Victor huffs A hand settled on my shoulder after a moment of nothing, firmly shaking me awake. "[First Name], get up." Victor tells me I faked a groggy groan, but pushed myself upright to greet him. I rubbed my eyes as Victor stepped back, holding out an iced coffee. I accepted it and took a sip after faking a yawn. "That was easy." Belch muses Victor only shrugged before turning around and walking back to the door. "I'll be outside waiting for you." Belch tells me "Yeah," Victor adds "Maybe for once I don't have to stand outside your door so you don't go back to sleep." I said nothing in reply, only sipped more of my coffee as the door closed behind them. I could think up some actual witty banter while I got dressed, so that was what I did. I climbed out of bed and I got dressed. Maybe as I woke up my skin would stop feeling so prickly and maybe my clothes wouldn't feel so much like sandpaper. After throwing a glance over to that one pillow on my bed, I briefly considered throwing Henry's shirt on over mine, then just covering it up with my jacket like I'd done moments before. Though, I knew better than to play that game. Plus, Henry was there so I wouldn't need his shirt. 
When did I get so fucking dependant on him?

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

I stepped out, my outfit just barely able to tick the box of being considered functional. I'd thrown a random sweatshirt over my shirt — said shirt being one of Belch's forgotten band tees. As I had been getting dressed, I'd made the unfortunate discovery that all of my clothes were dirty which should've been obvious, if the overflowing hamper in the corner of my room had been anything to go by. At least this time I already had my shoes on, so there would be no honking Henry for me today. Henry..  What the.. 
I—um, you're dreaming, Henry.
 
I'm what?
 
You're dreaming.
Go back to bed.  I shook my head, beating back the intruding thoughts before they even came forward in my consciousness. Those thoughts were the last thing I needed, just like all those other ones — the ones that had driven me back to his house last night. I didn't need another uncontrollable crying and vomiting fit again today, my head and what was left of my dignity would never recover. Ever.  
Are you okay?
 
Yeah, had a crick in my neck and shit for a couple days.
  I descended the staircase, slinging my backpack over my shoulder. I'd neglected to bring it yesterday — Actually, I always neglected to bring it since most of my homework was finished in my last period study hall or at some point throughout the day while I was at school. 
So why do I feel the need to bring it?
  
How're your parents, Sunshine?
  I guess I figured that if I at least had this bag I could slug Patrick right in his stupid face if he tried anything again. I didn't know. It was a spur of the moment sort of thing where I just grabbed the damn thing, okay?  
You're not gonna do anything, [First Name]. We both know that.
  I'd fucking show him. That freak. It had been strange though, not sleeping in my own bed — or waking up in it at that. Sure, the other guys and I had crashed at each other's houses before, but not Henry's. The Bowers' residence was strictly off limits for reasons that Butch had once again provided just yesterday. At this point since that fuckin' list was getting longer by the year, I predicted that by our senior year, I was pretty sure it would span the length of the barrens. However.. ever since I'd woken up for the last time this morning, when Henry's drooly, snoring mug had been the first thing that I'd opened my eyes to.. I'd begun to vaguely regret not doing it sooner. I mean sure, he'd been mean about it, but Henry was mean about everything. Plus.. I'd never had somebody hold me like that before. I'd never woken up next to somebody like that ever and.. part of me wanted to do it again. Part of me stupidly wanted to do that everyday because it was better than waking up to my skin prickling with imaginary pins and needles because even when I woke up, the first fucking thing I'd always thought of had been Patrick. I didn't want to wake up like that anymore and if that was something Henry could give me just by pressing his stupid morning wood into my leg while I mentally freaked out about how I was gonna slip out of his room.. then at this point I'd fucking take it. But I didn't know if it would — I didn't know if it could happen again. Henry always let stuff slide when it came to me.. at least he used to before everything went down on the fourth of July last summer and I hadn't exactly had the capacity to test the waters lately with him. At least not on purpose. I stepped outside just as Henry was leaning over to start laying on the horn. Belch had stopped him once he caught sight of me closing the front door behind me. I made my way to where Amy had been parked on the curb and watched as Victor climbed out of the car, allowing me access inside. "It's about fuckin' time." Henry scoffs I slipped on my coffee, almost halfway through it now as I plopped myself down. As always, I ignored the holes that Patrick was staring into the side of my head from where he laid comfortably against the door. He seemed pleased for the most part, judging by his lack of need to poke and prod at me and I guess that could've been attributed to yesterday's reaction to him cornering me in the downstairs bathroom. Still, I pressed myself up against Victor, who allowed me to practically crush him against the door. Come to think of it, Victor and I could've just switched spots. "You're quiet today." Belch mentions, meeting my gaze in the rearview mirror Yeah, that sounded good. Maybe I could bring it up next time Victor and I had a moment alone. "Tired." I reply, shrugging "Apparently." Henry grumbles, settling into murmurs shortly after Mad — was he mad at me? He seemed a little bit mad. No. Maybe..?  Guilt banged around in my chest. Though at the moment I honestly lacked the brain power to fully dissect Henry’s feelings. I was exhausted. The trek back to my place had been long and draining, as lame as that is to admit. It should've been easier to deal with — the minor sleep deprivation, I mean. I just about always found myself feeling tired as of late. This wasn't anything new for me. But if that was true then why did my eyes still feel so heavy?  
I—um, you're dreaming, Henry.
 
I'm what?
 
You're dreaming. Go back to bed.
  I chose not to think about it too hard — the air of rage that rolled off of Henry's person from up in the front seat. Maybe I was seeing things — feeling things that weren't there. Then again, this was Henry I was thinking about. Thinking. 
Well fuck me. So much for not thinking about it too hard. Good going [First Name]. What a great listener you are.
 
I need to stay for a little bit.
 
Don't have a cow or anything.
  
Oh, don’t have a cow, [First Name]. The others might hear you.
  
Stop. Fucking. Talking.
I'm not gonna tell you again.  My head hurts.