The pain throbbed in Beverly's guts, it's deep and warm, but not in a nice way. It feels like someone has their hand in there and are squeezing her organs either gently or as hand as they can. When it waned, she could move, when it returned, she could only hold still and breathe, breathe slow and deep until it has passed. Something wet and sticky was leaking out of her side and staining her dress, and she realized then it was her own blood. Every breath she drew in felt like a nail bomb exploding in her innards. If it wasn't for Ben, she'd curl right up here in the fucking sewers of the Neibolt House and let it take her away to the next life, but she had foolishly gotten herself into this mess, and it would be up to her to get her out. A tiny glance down at her ribcage was more than enough for her. "Oh," she squeaked, and Ben's head whiplashed upwards. She felt her blue eyes go wide and round with shock. A deep wound was sliced in the flesh of the right side of her ribcage. Not fatal. At least, not if they could get her to a hospital, and soon. It's heavily oozing out blood and there's a bluish-purple bruise forming around it. Beverly lightly pressed her index finger against the center of the cut and sucked in a sharp breath as the pain spiraled across her body. Colorful spots contoured the sides of her eyes and she had to bite her lip from the pain of it all. Ben was looking down at her as though he could hardly believe it.
Bev opened her eyes and blinked tiredly, awaking to the frigid cold of the horrible place she knew to be the fucking sewers down below the Neibolt House. Her body felt heavy again. She blinked again and struggled to sit up, trying to focus her gaze more than a few feet from herself as her sight slowly returned. How long had she been out? Thanks to being well underground, it was impossible to tell the time of day in this place, and the room was beginning to darken. She raised a pale hand and rubbed away the sleep that clung still to her eyes. Bev groaned, finally fully aware of the stiffness that had settled in her bones and her joints. Yet, she did not wish to move. Stillness felt too welcoming. So, she settled back and allowed her head to burrow deeper into the pillow that lay beneath her head, turning just so that her right cheek nestled within the downy fluffiness. Her eyes drifted shut, welcoming the beginnings of sleep again. She did not realize how tired she was until she had fallen into the oblivion of darkness from pain.
A sudden intake of breath, one that was not her own and sounded like a low groan, startled her awake, her pale gray orbs flashing wide. Immediately, she searched for the source of the sound, her eyes flitting across the dimly lit room, still unable to sit fully upright.
"Bev?" he questioned; his eyes still half-lidded from sleep. Still not releasing her hand, he lifted his free hand and slowly let it ghost down the features of his face, the tips of his fingers trembling slightly.
Suddenly, just as his hand reached the tip of the gash, his hand suddenly stilled, and his eyes widened a fraction in realization.
"Bev!" He immediately dropped his hand from his face and shifted her limp form in his arms. "Do you want to sit up?" he asked gently, his voice soft. She nodded. "Here," he answered simply, fluffing the pillows and gingerly helping her to sit up. She did not protest as he held her in his strong arms. If anything, she liked it this way much better. He lifted his free hand that was not currently wrapped around her waist and smoothed her bangs back away from her forehead, pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek. "You're awake," he said, sounding immensely relieved. He was gazing at her as if he had never seen anything quite like her before, like…like she was the most beautiful thing in all the world. "Thank Christ. I thought…that I'd lost you. You're alive," he cried.
Bev grinned widely and returned his kiss, unable to help but laugh when she pulled away, noticing his face that was much too pale for her liking. "I am. G—gonna…take…more than a…stab wound for that f—fucking clown to get rid of me. " It was all she could say, really. Ben suddenly frowned, stilling his hand that had found purchase in the back of her hair, absentmindedly playing with a few of her strands, his expression falling from joyful to pensive, his eyebrows furrowing. "Ben, please talk to me," she pleaded, still struggling with her arm. Whoever had stabbed her, both in her arm and near her ribcage wanted to make sure she wasn't going anywhere for a while. She grunted in frustration with the flaring pains that shot up her arm. She was well and truly trapped without help.
"Please, Ben, just tell me what's wrong! I—I can help you, but you must let me in. Talk to me, Hanscom. Us Loser's gotta stick together, remember?" she said, a fond little smile creeping onto her face. "What's wrong?" A strong arm suddenly shot out and wrapped underneath her shoulders, lifting her up and pulling her right shoulder into the crook of another. The hand that clutched her own in an iron-like grip let go for only a moment, only to be replaced with the other, his left where she could still see the poor man was trembling. Hard.
Bev let out a tiny squeak as she found herself free of the covers from the waist up and clutched firmly in Ben's hold, her head tucked just underneath his chin, his chin resting on top of her hair. She sat still for a moment, bewildered. Then, though not fully understanding why her intended was in such a state, she freed her hand from his and wrapped both arms around his neck, combing one of her hands through his coarse brown hair on the back of his neck in a way that was sending a pleasant tremor down his spine, what little comfort she could provide to him in this moment, she would do whatever it took.
She whispered soothing remarks in his ear and gently rubbed small circles on the small of his back, trying to relay as much comfort as she could, in the hopes of calming his distress and quelling his sadness.
It should have come to her as no surprise, really, Bev realized. They both had been through so much in the past few days. It was a wonder, a true ordinary miracle that they had survived. Hot tears soaked through the shoulder of her ruined maxi dress she was wearing. Bev briefly wondered if she had any spare clothes, but for now decided to let it go. He needed the comfort. Ben had gone to such lengths to care for her, to protect her, and it only seemed right that she tries to do the same for him.
After all, she liked him a lot and hurt to see him in such pain.
So, she held him firmly to her and rubbed circles into the small of his back and his shoulder and stroked his hair, whispering that she was fine, and all was well, though she had trouble believing her own words. She needed to hold him and love and let him know that no matter what, she would not abandon him. He needed her, just as she needed him. They would get through this and be stronger for it. "Ben, stop this, we gotta get out of here," she whispered. Bev was unable to prevent her voice from cracking and she inwardly winced at the sound. "I'm right here. I am here. I'm not leaving you. I am safe. I'm safe, and you are safe, Ben." She felt his fingers grip almost painfully tight on her waist, clutching onto the back of her dress for support. Another sob found its way through him and he shook violently. She could not tell if it was fear or relief or sorrow, he was feeling. Perhaps a combination of all three, plus more. He had gone through so much the last few days.
They all had.
"I'm so sorry," he whispered hoarsely into the shell of her ear, still wrapped in her embrace, not willing or perhaps he was unable to let go of her, for fear she would vanish right before his eyes. His voice was trembling, and his body was still shaking. "All of this. I'm sorry!"
With her head still tucked firmly under his chin, Bev shook it disagreement. "Ben, please don't. There is nothing to apologize for. None of this was your fault, not for an instant."
He must have disagreed with her because his next words sent chills of fear through her, rendering her blood to ice. "But it is!" he snapped, feeling the very anger seep into his tones. She pulled back slightly and craned her neck upwards to look her love in the eyes. "I—if you had not known me, none of this would have happened. Bev, you shouldn't have joined the Loser's Club back then. If you'd stayed away from us all, you'd be safe. You would not be hurt, because of me! You would be better off without me!" he shouted, fresh tears spilling down his face now as he spoke.
"Stop this!" she admonished; her voice came out far sharper than she intended. Bev pulled away and though she knew he needed to hold her; she was not going to let him talk to her like this. She looked up as his red, tear-stained face and the sight nearly had her reeling back in tears of her own. Yet she held them back. For his sake. "How dare you speak to me like that?" she yelled, brushing away her own tears with a sharp flick of her finger. Bev did not realize how shocked and hurt she was until she heard the wounded tone in her normally quiet, shy voice. "You saved my life tonight. Were it not for you, I would be dead, Ben…"
If her words had any effect on him, Ben did not let it show. A fact that was beginning to frighten her. "I would rather you never have known me than to have you laying here injured and ill because of my existence," he spat bitterly. Now his tone was full of self-loathing.
It felt as if Bev's heart forgot how to beat and the icy feeling from before returned tenfold. She gazed at him, wide-eyed in shock and horror. "Excuse me? W—what are you saying? You don't mean that!"
"Your life," he said quietly, encircling both his arms around her in his protective embrace and reached up one of his hands to tuck a wisp of red hair behind her ear, smiling softly at her, though it did not reach his eyes. "Means more to me than my own miserable existence, Bev. Knowing me has only caused you great pain and hardship. I swore to myself that I would be cautious, that I would not be careless and allow It to hurt you." He paused painfully, tears welling up in his blue eyes once more, and, at this moment, he lifted his head to meet her piercing gaze. "But I was not able to. I failed you. What kind of friend would I be to you if I cannot—"
"Okay, I'm going to stop you right there!" she shouted, willing for him to stay this madness, to stop talking crazy, but he cut her off.
"NO!" he shouted firmly, his eyes ablaze with anger. "It was because of me that you are hurt! Because I exist, you almost died! I don't deserve to have you in my life!"
The young woman gazed at him in bewildered shock for several moments. She looked as though he had slapped her, understanding just what his words meant but choosing rather not to believe them. Then, for perhaps the first time in her life, Bev felt genuine anger and fury towards him. She was angry with him. "Don't you dare!" she growled, her blue eyes blazing. She clenched her fists so tightly, the skin of her knuckles turning bone white. "Don't you dare speak to me like that! After everything that has happened, how can you still think you are the cause of what happened here tonight? You're safe, and I am alive. That is good enough for me. Or, it will be once we get the fuck out of here."
"Bev," he tried to placate, reaching for one of her hands. Yet she pulled away from him, far too angry with him to be soothed.
"What was I supposed to have done? Allow the clown to kill you? Just stand by and watch?" she sobbed, shaking her head no. "No way."
"You should have. I—it's me he wants I think. He took Kate to get to me, brought me here because he knew I would come if you were in trouble, because…because… Because I cannot lose you again. You've given me no other choice," he replied softly, no longer looking at her. Instant guilt flooded her, and Bev looked away and hung her head in shame for making such a fuss. Yet, at the same time, she knew it had to be this way.
"Ben," she said slowly, raising her head, her expression much gentler and her tone no longer harsh. She leaned forward and carefully cradled his head in her hands, gently guiding him to look her in the eyes. "I am alive. I'm safe, for now," she added, scrunching her nose as a twinge of white-hot pain shot up her injured side.
Then he lifted his brown eyes to her, and with the greatest of ease, took both her wrists in his hands and pried them away from his face.
Turning the pale, tiny appendages in his hands, he said, "All my life, I have been told that the world would never see me for anything more than a monster. A creature of darkness, one content to spend his life in the shadows. How is it that you saw past that?"
Bev opened her mouth to explain, to give him the answers he sought, yet he shook his head, implying he was not yet finished.
"When I caught you, just before you…almost died," Ben continued, his voice cracking and tears welling from the corners of his eyes again. He reached across the space that divided them and drew her close to him, closing off the gap and folded his arms around her. "It was the most frightening experience of my life. "I could not bear a world without you, Beverly Marsh, and never ask me to. Do not ask that of me, ever, for that is something I will not do."
Beverly sighed softly and burrowed her face in his chest, holding onto him just as tightly.
"You don't anymore, Ben. I am right here with you still. I will not abandon you. Ever. Us Loser's stick together, remember?" she whispered, teasing him a little. As soon as the last syllable escaped her lips, they found themselves locked in a kiss. The tender touch they shared made the room around them disappear. There was not anything else in the world except the burning flame of their love. Something about this feeling made them both feel like everything would be okay in the end. When they broke apart, they rested each other's foreheads against the other and just sat on the ground, just holding each other. For how long, who could say? They did not speak, just sat together with their arms wrapped around the other, relaying comfort and love in the only way they knew how. Ben breathed out a heavy sigh of relief, but the feeling quickly faded as he glanced down at her face, still cradling her in his arms.
Her eyes have frozen over like the surface of a winter puddle, robbing them of their usual warmth. She's in there, Ben knew it, but it was like she just took a huge step back from life. He wanted to reach in and tell her it wasn't hopeless, that they were going to get out of this, but even Ben knew she wouldn't believe him. Ben wanted nothing more than to rekindle her heat, but her insides were too damp with un-cried tears. Ben always knew she had pain inside, but now it was visible on her face and in the seeping flesh wound that was staining her dress, and he wished it would go away. Ben knew that was a selfish want, people have a right to their pain, they don't ask for it - it just arrives like the gift you never wanted. But…They had to get out of here, or they were all going to die.
"What happened to your eye, Bev?" Ben asked, as he draped his around her shoulder and helped her to stand. "Are you okay to walk, Beverly?"
She nodded mutely, her face taking on an ashen and rather clammy look. The bruise that had begun as a purple stain above her eyebrow had sunk into the socket itself, and so now it had the appearance of a black eye. In truth, Pennywise had given it to her when she was running away from him. She was wary of how fast she explained it and her tone of voice. If she appeared anxious or spoke too quickly, Ben and whoever else was down here with them might think she was a victim and she didn't want that. If she took too long to mention it they might assume she was avoiding the topic and come to much the same conclusion.
The shadows of the beating were on Beverly's skin and on her heart. The knowledge that coming back home to this accursed wretch of a place could do such a thing just broke something inside of her, something that would remain long after her skin and bones were healed. It was a sadness in her eyes, a heaviness, an unyielding sorrow that slowed her speech and robbed her of her once easy smile. "Okay," Ben murmured, feeling a new surge of determination course through his bloodstream. "We—we're gonna get out of here, Bev, i—it's going to be okay, sweetheart."
Bev nodded, the color rapidly draining from her face, still too weak and drained of her energy to speak. But that was a good thing, to conserve what strength she did have left. They were going to need it to get out alive. "Let's…find…Eddie," she whispered hoarsely, a weak tiny smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she glanced to the side and noticed Ben's stupefied expression. "I—I h—heard one of Ed's rants about the healthcare system in America earlier, j—just before I…" passed out, was what she wanted to say. "I—if he's down here, we'll find him, Ben."
Ben nodded, one hand wrapped around Beverly's waist, her fingers coming to grip almost painfully tight near the knot of her now-ruined maxi wrap dress, but Ben vowed if they got out of here, he'd buy her a new one. But first…had to find Eddie, and then Kate, if she was alive.
"We'll get out," he promised into the darkness as they walked. I swear.
Pennywise knew the girl would eventually make a move for her hypochondriac friend, so he decided to go after Eddie Spaghetti. He had killed the little blonde girl. He wasn't too concerned with Hotshot Hanscom, the Fat Boy, that college boy. He knew types like him, they were all the same. Facades of false bravado, but inside, they were just gutless pigs. Cowards. Ben Hanscom would be dead before dawn, he was counting on it. Either he would off himself or he would finish him off, one way or another. Pennywise let out a heavy sigh, having stepped outside via the attic window and out onto the rooftop for some air.
He lifted his face to the rain. If the raindrop is one it is millions, cascading from a black, tumultuous sky as the thunderstorm raged on, showing no signs of letting up any time soon. If anything, the storm was only intensifying. "Good," he grunted lowly. "Gives me an excuse to keep them in, not that they'd risk going out in this." He almost laughed and thought better of it. As he sat cross-legged on the roof, the thunder seemed to crack the air, as if the very heavens might split apart. It rolled like the ash of a volcano, becoming a rolling booming rumble. It declared to all the raw power of nature and gave fair warning of the wrath that was to come. It was nights like this that he cherished the most.
The weather mirrored his heart: chaotic, angry. Life had taken away the only thing he ever cared for, the one woman who might have dared to change him and his ways, his God had condemned him, named him Monster, named him Beast, incapable of feeling anything, and so, he killed God. It found his mind wandering, yet again, for what had to be the tenth time to Marsh today. The only girl to not be afraid of him, what It was, who he was.
Maybe that is why he liked her so much. Oh, he knew he was flattering himself, she would still have to die, it was the rules of his game, and no one cheated in his game. They all played by the rules in his house.
Neibolt House Rules.
Jolted out of the memory by a crack of thunder, Pennywise startled, staring down at his hands, wet from the rain.
When he lifted his hands to study them, they were trembling. He clenched his eyes shut and lifted his face to the rain, letting the rain intermingle with his hatred. Death was not kind. It knew that, as did Pennywise, better than most. It snatched where it could. It did not pretend to care; it did not pretend to distinguish. The hooded vale of death had hung over the world for a long time, always threatening. It had never touched him quite as close as it did the day those fucking Loser's in their precious little club had defeated him. Now, sometimes, It would sit staring for hours, especially during times like these when his game was afoot and there was little else to do but wait for the time to run out. His face sunken in and haunted, his mind cold and empty. The more the years went on, the more his town of Derry seemed to become more and more like him. Many were snatched away, and those that were left would wish it were they. The little kids continued to go missing, and no one ever said a word. Police didn't bother looking. The world had gone cold, because of the plague that was Pennywise.
These days, whenever he killed someone, he always asked himself, "Why?" His answer was usually the same. To end their suffering and feast on their bones. Most, like the little Katie Gravy he'd just killed, were suffering from something. In her case, it was a severe case of jealousy, so he'd only been too happy to put her out. In the case of Hanscom, his would be guilt. And as for Miss Marsh, well...with her, it was different. There was no suffering in her life, at least none that he knew of. But he would soon find out what that was.
It was going to be she who would break him out of this horrible cycle of violence, if only she would go with him. If she would go with him, then his voices would stop, and he could start over, bury his sins and live his life, in peace, at last. He had special plans for her, oh yes, he did. She would play his game. Beverly Marsh was, after all, his favorite.
It was his destiny, his calling in life. He would make her see the truth about herself. She would see it. "Or she will die," he spoke aloud, turning to go back into the house and see how his game was progressing.
Time was up in an hour. Those left alive were running out of time, and already, Pennywise the Dancing Clown was looking forward to the next.
Everywhere Eddie turned in the sewer hallways, he saw himself, distorted, panicked and struggling to breathe. He ran his hands over the strange shattered shards of the old mirrors the fucking clown had set up scattered all over the place. Why, Eds didn't know. And he didn't want to know. With so many images, all of them his own suffering, he couldn't keep track of his own direction. He was lost. Eddie knew deep down, he would have to face his own personal fears, every one of them and still proceed back to the upper levels of the house, find Ben and Beverly and get the fuck out of this hellhole before anything else could happen. Not to mention, what Mom would think of his broken arm. Again.
"Eddie! I keep telling you not to scare me like this and you never listen." He could almost swear he heard her voice. Eddie would hear taunting voices and see his worst fears brought to life. He would hear how he was unworthy. He would be goaded into committing betrayals against those he loved, because to betray love was to betray God. He would have a hundred ways to fail and only one to succeed. He had to walk through every fear, face down his own demons and do no harm.
He clutched his broken arm and he could have sworn he saw bone. "Oh shit, oh God, oh fuck, I hate this. I—if I see Ben, I—I'm gonna kill him," he moaned, his words coming out as a steady stream of a panicked flow.
Eddie clenched his jaws together and set off into the maze with no flashlight, no blueprints of the sewers down here, but with his eyes wide open. Succeed and get out of here, and they could leave Derry behind forever, never to return. But first…
"Let's go kill this fucking clown. Beep, beep, motherfucker," he growled, balling his hands into fists as he remembered what Ritchie used to say. He had no clue where he was or how to get out, but… "Time to be brave, Eds. Your friends need you."
Then it hit him. "Climb," he whispered. "Climb up the well." He shuddered at thinking of the number of horrible germs that were probably scattered all through those old stones in the concrete. Steeling his nerves, he took one puff on his aspirator to soothe his fractured spirit, which had been tormented ever since his fucking broken arm and frequent visions of his old dead girlfriend Lori popping up every now and again, reminding him it was his fault.
After some hours of crouching in the dark it occurred to Eddie that he'd never truly been thirsty before. Drinks had always arrived before he knew he wanted one. Never once had he drunk to quench his discomfort. But now just plain water would be a godsend. The urge to drink something dominated his thoughts. He should stay hidden now that he'd managed to escape Pennywise's mindfucks and hallucinations. For now, at least.
Pennywise was still down here somewhere and he was going to come back, but the sensation was quite unbearable. He slunk out from behind the beer barrels, grateful Pennywise had done something with his fucking sneakers. This was not a time for noise, even if it meant getting his bare feet dirty with grime.
The sound of Pennywise's voice made him freeze. "Where are you, Eddie Spaghetti? I know you're hiding from me, Eds. It's pointless, you know. Time to float. Come on out now, and I'll be quick. It'll be painless. You won't feel a thing, Eds."
The panic started out as thin cellophane, something his fingers can pierce breathing holes in. In another minute, the panic became a deluge of ice water surrounding all his limbs, creeping high until it passed his mouth and nose. That's when his panic attack became absolute, shutting his down as fast as punching a biochemical reset button. He prayed to God that the tracker his mom had put into his phone was working, and help was on the way, someone—the cops—anyone was coming for them all. He just had to hide long enough or stall Pennywise, keep him talking long enough for help to arrive.
"Found you, Eds, you're not a good hider, are you?" came his cold voice from behind his.
Eddie swallowed hard and turned slowly around, though he was not looking at Pennywise, but at an unfamiliar man with dark hair and strong, handsome features. He held poor Kaspbrak at knifepoint. The knife sat precariously on his skin, soft enough to not pierce his neck, hard enough to enforce the intended message. The harsh metal should have been cold and raw against his bare skin, but his numb body could not feel anything except the excruciating pain of his betrayal. Ben had brought him here against his will, and now he was about to die and probably get mugged at the hands of a fucking stranger, who may or may not have been part of Pennywise's grand fucking plan, whatever It's plan was, if It even had a plan to begin with.
Eddie's throat and heart held in a silver grasp, and all he could do was stare lifelessly at the eyes that held the blade and a terrifying coldness he'd never seen. Looking at the stranger's eyes now, he could see no trace of any kind of human emotion. "Where's Bevvy?" the strange man growled.
Eddie coughed, and the tip of the blade pricked his skin. "D—don't know, I—I s—wear…Who…you?" he managed hoarsely. It was all he could say.
The stranger furrowed his brow into a frown and let out a hiss. "Tom. Tom Rogan." He sneered in disgust at Eddie's cowering form and looked down his slender nose at Eddie. "Who the fuck are you, huh? Her boyfriend?" The hatred and jealousy dripping from his words was unmistakable. "I knew that bitch was lying to me about who she was seeing. All women are little whores, can't trust em," He sneered and scoffed at Eds. "You're not much to work with are you, kid?"
"N—no." Trembling, Eddie tipped his chin up into the sharpened edge, tempting him to end his anguish, half hoping that he would just kill his already. A small stream of blood trickled from the feeble cut he could not feel, he did not flinch or remove his eyes from hiss, a cruel smile stretched out across his gaunt, cold features. His frozen heart shifted at the sight of his merciless gaze, his legs almost failing beneath his. His steadfast grip on the polished weapon shifted, causing more crimson liquid to flow from the raw wound that he had inflicted on his.
Tom let out a growl from the back of his throat as he regarded Eddie Kaspbrak feeling like a wild beast pulling against its' leash and pointed the edge of his blade to Eddie's chin, "She's mine." Tom told him, watching anger drip from his words. "I was there for all her troubles. I was there when she was sad from heartbreak, angry or hurt. I was there, by her side, helping and celebrating with her. I. Will. Not. Allow. You - a person who's only known her for three days -to take her away from me. She..is..mine." The growl that escaped from deep within Tom Rogan's chest was unmistakable, and Eddie squirmed, glancing around wildly this way and that, to see if there was any way out. He only saw one that he knew of. And that was up.
Eddie's face drained of color as he watched Tom toss the knife aside and reached for a baseball bat. Where the fuck did he get that?!
He knew it was coming and his muscles tensed as much as they could. But the knowing still didn't soften the blow. The bat was as hard as it looked, and his leg was no ball. He cried out as he felt the bone split into an untold number of fragments as his mind became inoperable. The pain took his far away, but deep inside himself to some primitive place that knew how to cope with the kind pain that preceded death.
His vision grew blotched with violent colors that moved and merged with any kind of pattern or design. He was barely aware of Tom's agonized roar of rage. The wall of pain still crippled, but Rogan's face swam back into his 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 the narration of his end. "It's…Eddie, isn't that right? Well, then, Eds, it's just no fun if you see it coming…"
Eddie didn't know who threw the first punch, but suddenly his fist was slamming into Tom's face while he sunk into his stomach.
Blood pooled in Tom's mouth as Eddie gagged. They stumbled apart for a brief second to catch their breaths before diving back at each other, eyes narrowed in determination. He dodged Tom's fist and came up with his own; for a brief instant, his cerulean blue eyes widened before he managed to tilt his head back and slam it into Eddie's. Stars burst in his vision, but he quickly shook it off, blindingly throwing a sloppy kick. Rogan stepped back, easily evading the kick. "Is that all you got?" the man crowed, smirking infuriatingly at Eddie. Eddie growled and threw himself at Tom, changing direction at the last minute. His blood hummed in his veins as determination and anger took over. "It's your time, Eds. Time to float. You'll all float down here!"
Tom threw his body weight behind the fist that edged closer to his face, it hit Eddie's jaw with such force blood pooled into my mouth. Pain erupted from the point of impact. With his own two hands, Eddie grasped Rogan's head in his hands and brought his kneecap up to his nose, there was a blunt crack and he released his dark-haired head. Crimson leaked from both his nostrils and his nose was twisted right.
He drew his fist back again and it ploughed into Eddie's stomach, it was like hitting a train head on. His guts smashed together, blood vessels bursting. Eddie repaid this by punching his jaw, his fist collided with all his body weight. Eddie Kaspbrak continued this battering until Tom fucking Rogan fell to the floor. His chest gently rose and sank with each shallow breath he drew in, and there was a horrible gurgling in the back of his throat.
"I know what you are, you fuckface," snarled Eddie, wishing he'd felt this surge of bravery course through his veins earlier. "You piece of shit! Go to hell!"
"Already there…" rasped Rogan weakly. "B—but…it's your time, Eds," he growled, and motioned with his eyes as he made a horrible gurgling noise from the back of his throat, blood pooling in his mouth for Eddie to look.
Reluctantly, Eddie looked, and immediately wished he hadn't.
Through the darkness came the glow of two yellow eyes, like sallow lamplight eight feet off the ground. They moved with a slight sway, as if the unseen body prowled like a big cat. Eddie stopped. The eyes did not, with rapid acceleration and a more bounding motion the came right for him. In less than two seconds he was on his back gasping for air. A string of curses unraveled from his tongue, like yarn unfurling, as the creature advanced. Its golden scales shimmered with hot anger along with its dark, cold eyes. Every step it took rattled his bones and struck his heart. He tried to dodge a swing from its massive claws, but it struck his side and he tumbled into the dirt. He could hear nothing all was silenced, the yells of the audience, the hisses of the creature, all inaudible.
All Eddie could do is feel. Feel the cold ground pressed against his form, the heat from the pain, and the rhythm of the drum that would signal his end. He looked upward into the stars. He fought valiantly, and he prayed that whoever else was down here would find his body and give him a proper burial. He closed his eyes as he felt a searing pain, fully prepared to die.
But it didn't come.
"Hey, fuckface!" shouted a woman's voice, that familiar quiet inflection that made Eddie's heart swell with affection and relief glance wildly around for the source. He found her.
Eddie groggily sat up and blearily tried to focus his view a few feet from himself, and what he saw made him burst out into delighted, almost maniacal laughter.
Though she was weak and was only standing on her two feet thanks to Ben Hanscom's support, Beverly Marsh's face showed no fear whatsoever.
She had a huge rock in her hand and drew back her arm as far as she could and with a guttural grunt hefted the rock as far as she could, aiming it at Pennywise's head. "Why don't you pick on someone your own size? You're nothing but a vile little cockroach, disgusting little maggot, repellent little worm, malicious little toad, beastly little brute," Beverly hollered, and she let out a satisfied, albeit tiny smirk at seeing how Pennywise's face flushed in anger and its eyes narrowed to slits.
Eddie's mouth dropped open in shock as visions of that day in the woods with Henry Bowers and his goons came to the forefront of his mind, and the rock fight...
Pennywise felt his lips curl into a triumphant sneer.
"What the fuck are you? An alien? A demon from hell, what the fuck are you?" Beverly asked tersely, her posture rigid and staff, her back muscles tensing. "What do you want with me? Let Eds and Ben go, none of them have done anything wrong!" she demanded, her voice warbling only slightly.
The slightest indication of fear. It will do. He sneered and admired from behind how her red hair cascaded in gentle layers to her collarbones, the breeze down here in the sewers tousling it slightly into gentle curls, wafting the intoxicating scent of whatever shampoo she used his way.
He fought back the fire welling like a fire-seed in his innards and continued. "Don't worry your pretty little head about Fat Boy and Eddie Spaghetti, dear," he taunted mockingly, placing a white gloved hand on her shoulder. She flinched and shirked away from his touch. He frowned. No matter. The girl would see the truth soon enough. Time to tip the scales in his favor. "You won't see your friends, any of them, ever again. You'll be mine. Forever. It's a necessary evil, I'm afraid."
"Fine. Take me," she snarled, her blue eyes blazing with an intense wildfire. "Take me instead," Beverly offered calmly, ignoring Ben's screaming protests as the fucking clown swiveled its head in their general direction. "You can have me, but you let them go," she snarled, jerking her thumb to both Ben and Eddie. "That is my deal."
Pennywise cocked his head to the side and regarded the young woman standing in front of him for what felt like an eternity spent in an uncomfortable silence.
"It's why I'm here, isn't it? This was never about Eds or Ben, was it? You've wanted me all along, so then take me, if you want. Take me, but you let them go, you piece of shit," Beverly breathed, feeling her blue eyes growing wide and round with shock. The young woman glanced sideways at Ben and over to where Eddie lay crouched on the ground, seemingly in awe of his friend's bravery, not caring about the dirt and grim that sunk into his jeans.
Ignoring Ben completely and backhanding the young man so hard it sent him flying across the sewers, Pennywise seemed to have eyes only for Bev.
"Wait!" she pleaded, raising her hands to shield her face. Her pleas for him to stop seemed to reach him, and he hesitated. This was it. No going back. "I'll go with you," Beverly said, her voice cracking but she bit her tongue and fought the urge to break into tears. "Do whatever you want to me, just take me. Let Ben and Eddie go, but I want to see him first, to see if he's alive."
Pennywise hesitated, his violent streak temporarily halted. "You would…come with me?" he asked, dumbfounded and seeming to be at a loss for words.
"Yes," breathed Beverly, her voice barely above a whisper. "But only if you let Ben Hanscom free. And I want to see them both leave the Neibolt House, alive and unharmed, before we…before I stay here."
Her voice cracked and wavered as she spoke the words, though it lacked the resolve and conviction she really needed to sell the deal she wanted to make.
Pennywise stared, his gray eyes narrowing until they were slits. Could it really be that simple? But what if this was all an elaborate trap? He wouldn't put it past her. It was one of the things he loved about Marsh so much, she had guts and wasn't afraid of him. "I don't think so, Bevvy," he jeered, balling his gloved hand into a fist, raising it over his head and bringing it down hard on the back of Beverly Marsh's skull.
Beverly had expected It would say as much. Her eyesight blurred, but not because tears were welling up. Everything became fuzzy, and then she saw nothing at all. Her consciousness was floating through an empty space filled with a thick static. Throughout the inky space, her heartbeats pounded loudly, echoing in her ears, alongside fading pleas for help as she felt her body being hoisted into a pair of strong arms—Pennywise's.
Feeling in her body drained away until all was black.
