The morning dawned as a sliver of light, blocked by clouds that hung overhead like a veil. The Greyson House sat silent, kind of. Jonathan laid atop of the bed, fast asleep. After his drinking binge last night, he is sure to wake with a massive headache. He will stay home from work because of it. Jordan remained on the couch, sound asleep and snoring away. Her drug-induced hangover will render her useless for the day, keeping her housebound as well. This is a day Ruth should not be in the house at all. Being around these two will only be a death wish.
Ruth woke with a sharp gasp. Her eyes shot open, more alert than she should be this early morning. She gazed into the darkness of her room, watching the bedroom door intently. When the door never opened, Ruth sighed in relief. She lazily sat up and rubbed the sleepiness out of her eyes. It's been quite a while since she had nightmares, three years to be exact. Ruth woke up several times during the night from these weird and bizarre dreams. Most of them were from old fears when she was little. Why would she start having nightmares of the long-forgotten? It felt like someone was poking around in her head for information. Why would they, and what were they looking for?
Maybe it has something to do with the clown I saw yesterday, Ruth thought.
Although she instantly discredited it for two reasons. One, why would a crackhead in an old clown suit trigger these nightmares? She was never afraid of clowns, loves them, in fact. She isn't even scared of who is behind the paint. Two, those dreams could just be a trigger by eating the cookies last night. Ruth has never had sweets before bedtime, so maybe the sugar conjured these bizarre dreams.
Although another thought occurred to her. It's probably the most logical. Pennywise, the Dancing Clown, was the last person on her mind before she fell asleep. He was also the first thing she thought of once she awoke. Did the clown really leave that much of an impression on her? Ruth had to wonder if the whole encounter was real. Did she really see him, or was the lack of food playing tricks on her?
"Well, starvation does cause hallucinations," Ruth rationalized to herself.
Ruth eased herself out of bed, tip-toeing to the closet to get dressed in the grayness of her room. Ruth learned not to turn the light on when she is changing. Jonathan walked in on her and made several sexual advances, which led her to tears. Ruth quickly wiped them away to dress. With a quick glance out the window, sunlight started to break through the clouds, indicating another cloudy day and warm, too. She soundlessly slipped into a pair of jeans and just threw a top on and tucked it in.
By the time she was done, Ruth eases her door open and peered around the corner. She can hear her mother snoring in the living room, but isn't sure about Jonathan's current state. She knew sneaking into their bedroom is a risk, but she had to know. Ruth shuts the door behind her and tip-toes to the opposite end of the house.
Oh god, this is a horrible idea, she says to herself.
Ruth slowly approached the ajar door of the master, gently gripping the knob with hesitation. Thank goodness the doors to the house didn't creak. Otherwise, Ruth would have been caught right about now. She opened the bedroom door wider than she should have but found her target. He's asleep and fully clothed. Ruth discovers a few beer bottles on the floor by the bed and near Jonathan's hand, all three empty. She then turned her gaze to his relaxed face. He is indeed very much asleep, with his mouth hung open a little.
Satisfied that he would not wake, Ruth gently pulled the door back the way it was before, then turned on her heels for her exit. Ruth didn't have to check on the chainsaw snoring mother. When her mother lays down to sleep, the woman doesn't stir. Unless she was half asleep like yesterday. Ruth shook her head to rid herself of the incident then drew the front door open to step out into the early morning light.
Ruth leisurely walked down the street, no need to rush to go anywhere. She has all day to keep away from the house until the two adults fell back asleep. If lucky, they may not even realize Ruth wasn't home until the next day. The longer Ruth kept her distance, the less likely she will end up with new bruises. Maybe a night away will give her more comfort than she believes.
Her steady, feather-light steps drew Ruth further away, and in a direction, her own mind didn't comprehend until now. She recognized a dark, brooding shadow on the corner of Neibolt. The house where Ruth supposedly saw a man dressed as a clown standing on the porch. How exactly did she end up here anyway? Ruth stood at the iron gate, perplexed. Now that she managed to eat something, Ruth wondered if she did see the clown.
She stood there, waiting for any sign of movement. No gauche shadow of a man still dressed in a Victorian clown suit and hungover emerged. Ruth waited for what seemed like five minutes when it has been a minute since she looked up at the dark, rotting house. When nothing appeared, Ruth was going to put it behind her and continue her trek into town. Although the man could be asleep. It is risky, but Ruth wouldn't know if she is going crazy unless she explored the house.
Ruth swiftly advanced on the steps, emphasizing each step with a pound on the wood to announce her presence. It's an attempt to get whoever is inside be aware that someone is here. Ruth's effort went unheard. Once she approached the open and broken door, she peers inside, her determination vanished. Ruth glanced around the deteriorating foyer, finding no one in sight.
"Hello," Ruth called, no answer, not even a creak.
She blinks then took one step inside the house, knowing she shouldn't. Except, her curiosity won over logical. Ruth hesitantly stepped in further, one… two… three steps and stops.
Ruth stood in the entryway. Her hands are jammed into the front pockets of her high-waist skinny jeans and investigated. Ruth looked from the decorated stairwell of leaves and cobwebs to the small den on the foyer's right side. A chandelier covered in cobwebs, branches, and leaves hung above an aged Victorian stripped couch, muted in color from the sunlight. It looked inviting instead of eerie. In reality, the whole interior of the darkened house seemed homey rather than intimidating or terrifying. Why would that be, though?
Ruth turned her gaze away from the couch to the hall that led to a kitchen. She starts forward in hopes of finding someone cooking a fictional meal since the place hasn't had electricity for who knows how long. Once she approached, there was no one. A frown adjourned on her thin pink lips, frustrated in not finding anyone in the house. Hobos, potheads, and crackheads alike have been known to trespass and lived in it during the colder winter months. It should be no different now, right?
Ruth sighs heavily before turning on her heel to return to the foyer and towards the stairwell. She started up the stairs with the intent of finding him when a thought occurred to her. What if whoever Ruth saw is trying to lure her up there? She whirled around and stood at the bottom, staring upwards. Ruth waited a moment in silence for the slightest bit of movement, but none was heard. Another moment went by before she finally broke the calm within the Neibolt house.
"Pennywise!"
Ruth deadpans. Why did she have to start by calling out his name? A simple "hello" would have sufficed, but no. Honestly, the name stuck with her because the name Pennywise is unique, and likes it, too.
She waited for a response, only to be greeted with more silence. There were no sounds of grunting or a startled gasp, not even a thud. There was nothing. Ruth is the only person in the decaying house.
Maybe she really did hallucinate him. Starvation must have hit her hard that she couldn't differentiate what was real or imaginary. She sighed heavily after this realization, turning away from the stairwell in disappointment. Ruth wished Pennywise the Dancing Clown was real. It would have at least proved she wasn't going crazy. Maybe more so that his presence would ease the loneliness that has darkened her broken heart.
As Ruth approached the door frame, she turned her gaze back to the ruined but still inviting interior of the Neibolt House. She hoped to see a figure standing behind her with a crooked grin and dim eyes, but no such person appeared.
"I was really hoping you were real," she whispers with a wobble.
Ruth could have sworn she heard a faint voice asking, "Why," from beside her.
She glanced sideways, hoping to find someone hiding in the corner but nothing still. Ruth didn't care if she spoke to the air, but she responded to the question.
"Maybe then I wouldn't feel like I'm losing my mind, or even more alone. I'm tired of it, too."
With a sad frown and a sniffle, Ruth turned away. She completely forgets her encounter with the clown in an instant.
Unbeknownst to her, a pair of golden expressionless eyes watched her leave.
The remainder of her walk to the library is uneventful and quiet, as usual. There weren't many people out this morning, nor was there a lot of sounds. The only thing Ruth occasionally heard was a passing car or a roll of thunder. It's going to rain again at some point. Every time she hears or sees rain, Ruth thinks about Georgie. She remembers hearing about his disappearance. He was out in the rainstorm with a paper boat his brother, Bill, made for him. Bill was the last person Georgie saw. Him vanishing always brought a tear to her eye. He was cute a kid, and she envied the boy's undying love for his big brother. It would have been nice to have a little brother or sister around. Unfortunately, they would be in the same boat as her. Unwanted and shunned by their community.
Ruth remembers approaching Bill to exchange her sympathies, but he didn't want to hear it. Bill brushed her off. Instead, he followed after his friends for an escape. His rude dismissal towards her hurt Ruth terribly. She recalled the horrible pang in her heart from being ignored. Of course, she had to remind herself that he, along with Class Clown Richie and Twitchy Eddie, is a lot like the other students.
Screw them then, Ruth says to herself. In the back of her mind, she can only hope they will at least see her scars. She is a lot like them in some fashion.
She sighs heavily from thinking about the boys to enter the library and beelined for the fiction section.
The library is silent, except for the occasional rustling of papers and books lightly smacking the tables. The aisles of shelves always provided a shield from onlookers. Not to mention the dirty looks from the librarian. The frumpy middle-aged woman, Mrs. Starret, has a particularly nasty bite. The whole town of Derry is against her. Either way, Ruth won't let their negativity bring her down. At least not today.
She browsed the shelves looking for a novel she has read plenty of times. It's a favorite of hers. Well, there are several Ruth enjoys. This one, in particular, always leaves her with a satisfying grin. Her eyes land on it and lightly smiled. She is grateful no one has picked it off yet as it is a summer read for children this year. With a quick snatch, Ruth rushes back with a few others crooked in her elbow. When she came around the corner, Ruth's eyes land on someone sitting at one of the tables. It's the new kid Ben Hanscom.
Ruth knows he is friendless, so maybe she can try befriending him. He could use a friend like Ruth desperately does. She holds her head high and confidently walks to the table. When she approached, Ruth chose the furthest end, even though it really isn't. The tables are not exactly big or long, especially when Ben has covered most of the surface with a project he's working on. She glances up to see if there were any other tables available when there wasn't. For this early morning, the library is busy. The only one she could see is the small one tucked in the far corner and barely lit. Ruth has dubbed it "The Outcast Corner."
With a light sigh, Ruth took the plunge.
"Hey Ben," she starts in a faint whisper.
Startled, Ben glanced up from his book and caught Ruth's eye. He frowns and visibly cringed.
Not a good sign, but Ruth urged further.
"Do you mind if I sit here? Everywhere else is full."
Ben sighs then turned in his seat to gaze around. It is indeed full except for the small one, causing his frown to deepen.
"I do mind, but if you don't want to see in the Loser Corner, you may."
Ruth offers him a smile then sat down on the opposite end.
"Thank you, I actually call it the Outcast Corner."
Ben sighs, "Do you mind?"
She stares at him with brows furrowed.
"Do I mind what?"
"Not talking."
Ruth felt a familiar pang when she noticed the tightness in his voice.
Seriously, even him, Ruth thought sadly.
When she doesn't respond, Ben names off some of the titles. The first few are classics, which Ben nodded in approval. As he read further, his chubby features scrunch. Ben balked a little and stared at Ruth uneasily.
"Why don't you read at home?"
Ruth's features harden, and lips formed a tight straight line. The last thing she wants is another confrontation with her mother or worse, Jonathan. With a harsh gulp and steady breath, she regards Ben with a frown.
"I would very much prefer to be somewhere other than there," Ruth responds tightly.
Ben noticed Ruth tensing, even the tightness in her jaw. He wanted to ask but thought the better of it. He didn't want to get pulled into the girl's problems.
He regards Ruth, considering. After a moment of thick silence, Ben responds tightly.
"Just promise you won't talk to me anymore?"
Ruth grew silent, the pang from earlier strengthening. She got her hopes up. She sincerely thought Ben would ease her loneliness by gaining a friend out of him. Ruth thought wrong. Ben Hanscom is like all the others.
With a sigh, Ruth sadly agrees. "Promise."
Satisfied, Ben returns to his book, ignoring Ruth. He misses the deepened frown and single tear.
They sat at the table in silence for a while. Even after the librarian came by to help Ben find a book, Ben and Ruth kept to themselves. She would occasionally look over at him but would say nothing. After a while, Ruth noticed Ben's history project. Her stomach churned sickeningly.
"You will get more in-depth details on the Easter explosion from the history book, Mrs. Starret is looking for you." Ruth chimed suddenly, startling Ben.
"Huh?" He glances at her, scowling.
"The History of Old Derry. You'll find everything you need for your history project in there."
"Didn't you promise not to talk? And how would you know about all of this?" He challenged.
Ben noticed the twinge of a proud grin surfacing on her lips despite the saddened gaze.
"I've read the book myself. It took me a couple of days to read the whole thing. There have been some pretty gruesome deaths and bizarre events here in Derry. It's kind of sad, honestly, the Kitchener Ironworks, especially. It exploded in 1908, killing one hundred and two people, eighty-eight were children at an Easter egg hunt." Ruth contorts her features, pausing.
"Although now that I'm thinking about it, a lot of occurrences here dealt with children. But what I find especially odd is how everything happened twenty-seven years apart." Ruth explained, staring and lightly examining the strewn about books.
Ben stared, confused, fascinated, yet annoyed. "Hmm, that is odd. Can_?"
Both him and Ruth are startled when a book is slammed on the table.
"Here you are, young man." Mrs. Starret, the librarian, softly spoke.
"Thank you," Ben mumbled.
"You two seem to be awfully chatty. I'm glad to see you made a friend, even though it is in poor taste." Mrs. Starret says while glaring at Ruth.
Ruth shrunk under her scrutinizing gaze, feeling small.
"Oh, no. No, the Bastard Kid is not my friend," Ben quickly defends, not even caring if he hurt Ruth's feelings.
Ben's rude and heartless remark hit Ruth deeply to the point of wanting to cry. She refuses to do that now.
"Gee, thanks a lot, Ben. Here I thought you would want a friend when you didn't have one, to begin with. Never mind then. I'll just go sit in the Outcast Corner like I should have done in the first place. Enjoy your history project, asshole."
Ruth immediately grabbed her books, then storms off with a huff, hiding her angry tears.
Ben watched her leave, suddenly guilty that he dismissed her as he had. There's no fixing it, though. Even if he wanted to, Ben wouldn't know how to go about it. In a way, he hates it for her when Ben is basically in the same boat as her. Neither of them has friends. Ben has a reason since he's relatively new here. Ruth, on the other hand, has a bad name about her. Plus, there are rumors of her being a part of the Bowers gang. Ben doesn't want to associate with her if it were the case or not. Besides, Ruth would just cause him trouble. He also heard rumors of Ruth's parents not wanting her associating with hormonal boys, well anyone really.
Mrs. Starret watched Ruth leaving in a huff as well. Her features screw and mockingly bobbles her head.
"Well, someone has their breaches in a bunch. Pay no mind, the unwanted child is not exactly approachable."
"Yeah, I figured as much."
"But she is right, you know."
"How so?" Ben glances up at her.
"A boy should be spending his summer outside with friends. Don't you have any friends?"
Ben sighs, eyeing the heavy book. "Can I have the book now?"
Mrs. Starret glares at him, pats at the book cover, then left Ben to his devices.
Little did Ben know that he will have one hell of a fright.
It's quiet in this corner. Ruth likes it too and should have just come over here earlier. She would have avoided the heartache if Ruth had listened to herself. Instead, Ruth learned the hard truth of what Ben Hanscom thought about her. She could have eased his loneliness, but Ruth thought wrong.
She was in this corner for ten minutes. The silence was pleasant, but it was disturbed when Ruth heard a yelp and someone shouting.
"OH! What are you doing?" A female voice questions.
Ruth glances from her book to investigate, finding a frightened Ben run into view.
He rushed to gather his things, a couple of items fell onto the floor, but Ben is quick to snatch them up. Within a blink, he frantically leaves the library. The older woman watched the boy leave then turned to Ruth, bewildered. Ruth stares at her for a moment, shrugging then returned to her book.
Ruth misses the gently bobbing red balloon behind her, which seemed to smile gleefully when her small lips pulled back in a satisfying grin.