Pennywise so hated it when they died too soon, but he had to punish these girls. They were dirty, their ways were filthy and wanton. If they refused him, he killed them, and if the girls fought back, their deaths were slow and painful, deeper. He was firm and fair; they were whiny and without morals. He went after boys too, but girls were easier to scare, more vulnerable, less willing and able to fight back.
Except for Marsh, his voice taunted. And he liked that about her, that she had some fight in her. It made killing her that much more of a challenge, and for a moment, Pennywise wasn't sure that he wanted to anymore. "What if I let her go…?" Then you could play again.
He picked the girls for their painted lips and short skirts, he felt drawn to their high heels and long legs. They made him think bad thoughts, unclean thoughts. They made him lustful and unchaste. The opposite of love is not hating, that was just a warped version of love itself, one that uses the same bit of the brain. Hate tells that once there was love and that love is still possible. No, the opposite of love is indifference. It's something cold that never stirs itself, never cries with passion; indifference ignores, abandons, acts as if the other doesn't matter at all. It is as cold as the void, an emptiness that cares not if the other suffers. Pennywise knew that he suffered from indifference, but…but…then if that were the case then why, why, did he feel a slightest inkling of…dare he even think it, remorse, for allowing Fat Boy's little friend to fatally stab Marsh, then? Fires of fury and hatred were smoldering in the small narrowed eyes as he weighed the pros and cons of the various and creative means available to him for getting rid of her.
The girl was breathing heavily. No longer interested in keeping up the charade, Pennywise snapped his fingers and reverted the girl's hair back to its original yellow. This girl was beginning to be a thorn in his side, always pining after Ben, which she had done ever since he set her about her task to rid them all of Marsh, though, his jealousy swelled at the thought of anyone else dealing with her as opposed to this—this little bitch. No. If anyone was going to deal with Marsh, it was him. And then…a truly wonderful, horrible idea came to Pennywise.
"What if…yes…that's it….it's perfect…sure to stay, stay forever…she'll see…" he murmured, earning a quizzical look from Kate in the process, whose eyes had reverted to their blue cerulean hue. "But first…Katie Gravy, you deserve a reward for good behavior. You did exactly as I told you, except… the girl's life is off-limits."
"Wh—what? Where's Ben? I want to see Ben. Is that little bitch dead yet? What happened?" she moaned, sounding horribly confused. "D—did I…?" But her voice broke and she did not complete the question that burned, lingering on the tip of her tongue.
Pennywise felt his anger swell and his lips curled back in a sneer.
"Marsh is off-limits, Katie Gravy, didn't you know? She's mine. You weren't supposed to hurt her that bad, Kitty Kat. And now…"
He stuck out his bottom lip in a mock pout, pretending to be hurt.
Kate could tell by the look on the clown's face that it's coming, and her muscles tensed as much as they could. The knowing did nothing to soften the blow. The clown's backhand was as hard as it looked, and her leg is no ball. She felt the bone split into an untold number of fragments as her mind became inoperable. The pain took her not far away, but deep inside herself to some primitive place that knows how to cope with the kind of pain that precedes death.
Her vision became blotched with violent colors that move and merge without pattern or design. The wall of pain still cripples but Pennywise the Dancing Clown swam back into view. His face was just as you'd imagine it to be if he were waiting for a bus.
Then he smiled in a small way before continuing his narration of her end, "Kate, Kate, Katie Gravy, it's just no fun if you don't see it coming." Then a pair of teeth sank into her leg as he knelt beside her.
"Time to float," he growled."
Horrified, Kate glanced down and stared at the blood with fear. She felt her own hands drench with the oozing red liquid as clear as rubies. The rubies floated down her hand a perfidy treasure or a curse.
Kate didn't remember what happened. Did she kill someone? Blood vividly appeared itself in her mind portraying its deadly beauty shades of red. With a start only then did she realize the bloodshed was hers. Something sharp had sunk its teeth into her neck. As the life fluid drained out of her in its garish red, her skin took on the pallor of a corpse.
Her stomach felt sick and then one by one she lost control of her limbs until finally her head slumped. She could still hear, but she could control none of her body. Then, like a ghost, she slipped into a coma with death not far away. Kate's heart had been cleaved from the body. The arteries, now drained of their life fluid, stuck out like so many rubber hoses. The girl's ribs cage cracked and pried open as Pennywise's claws extended in length, digging into her stomach and feasting on her flesh, the whiteness of the bone shone out in the sea of flesh. Kate's face was now the greyish color of a cadaver as she faded.
A mist, with silent steps. Kate's eyes fell on its figure, her heart drenched by fear did not throb any longer. Everything fading into abyss. Its eyes on her; burning coal with no shape. Numb, Kate could not feel anything around me. Eyes struggling to move, she looked at Ben's grief-stricken face, twisting through her blending vision.
Though she knew, this too, was merely an illusion of her heart.
Paralyzed in fear, Kate felt her breath being taken. She closed her eyes and the last thing she heard was Ben's voice, trembling and fighting back tears as he screamed something.
Don't leave me alone…
