#leechfeared

     ❝ C’monnn  this  isn’t  just  any  run  of  the  mills  sissy  Monster  Truck  Sunday.  It’s  The  TOUR  THREE  NO  LIMITS  MONSTER  JAM  SUNDAY.  Stop  being  a  fuckin’  fairy  and  steal  the  money  from  your  folks. ❞

Not the person that did this to him, but also not someone he was particularly thrilled to see. His ribs hurt, the kicks delivered there had probably done some damage, and the blood he could taste from both his nose, and his broken lip made him want to throw up.

Hockstetter was only sure to make it worse.

Eddie curled up against himself, turning toward the building wall that he was sitting against, wishing he could just disappear instead of being seen by anyone else that might hurt him.

"---you sick, twisted, stupid fuck !" IT appears to Patrick in the only image IT knows he assigns a sort of importance to. Henry Bowers looks hot under the collar, his pale skin the nearly the same shade of red as the dirty wifebeater he is wearing.  In reality, IT actually is angry. Angry because one of the many children IT has marked as IT's next meal has gone missing.

"--where the fuck is he, huh?! Answer me, puke face! You fucking answer when I talk to you!" Henry's fist slams into the concrete just beside Patrick's head. There is blood but it's fake, just as fake as the sound of splitting bone and cartilage. The two of them are face to face. The insult is not that a child could have potentially lost his life but that IT's authority has been challenged.  IT controls Patrick and the rest of his rag-tag band of fuck-ups. IT will make this clear.

       “ please say you washed your hands after touching that ---- “ his hand quickly moves to hover over the fannypack zipper. a quick pull trigger.

If he were braver, he'd say JUST GET IT OVER WITH. Bill wouldn’t scream, if he were in Stan’s position. Richie would probably say something both snarky and defiant, like James Bond. Even Eddie would probably try to bite his attacker, not going down without a fight. But the minute Patrick had pulled out that knife, Stan had just started screaming, shrill, broken like a baby bird. But nobody comes running, because only psychopaths lurk in creepy junkyards on Saturdays. 

WORDS CAUGHT HIM OFF GUARD, for a moment. he stares dumbfounded, head tilts and he just doesn’t think he heard right. BUT OH HE DID ! and it just manages to place a tint of pink across his cheeks, he blinks. TRYING TO BRING HIS MIND BACK FROM WHEREVER IT WENT. instinct easily goes, really? you think so?  but it’s weird. it’s so weird. HE CAN’T HELP BUT SMILE and scoff lightly. he swallows hard. CONFUSION CLOUDS HIM.