A/N: Hey, everyone! I had this sitting on my computer for a while now and figured I would at least share it. I'm working on finishing Chapter 2 and writing out a scene for a later chapter. I'll post it here as a snippet of what is to come. It's my first story in the IT fandom, so give this one a chance.

Rated T Warning: There is mild to coarse language throughout the story, along with some mild adult themes in later chapters.

Touches multiple genres: hurt/comfort, drama, friendship, dark humor, horror, some angst, romance, and suspense.

Disclaimer: I do not own IT or any of its characters. They all belong to the greatest man of horror, Stephen King. My OC, however, belongs to me.

Enjoy the read, and reviews are much appreciated.

You have a safe place, right? You know, a place to call your haven? It is a place where you can get away from all the bullshit that life throws at you. Where is it? Your room? So you can lock the door to try to keep them out at all costs. A friend's house? Where they can console you and tell you that things will get better. Maybe a relative's house? Where they can keep you safe from everything. Or perhaps at your school? Where you can hide out in a classroom of which your favorite subject is taught. Do you?

Well, what if you didn't have a safe place? You'll just be vulnerable to the world. Your bruises and scars left exposed, and tears never ceasing from your eyes. The emotional and physical hurt for everyone to see, where they can lash at you continuously without remorse. Where would you go then?

That's how Ruth Greyson feels. The physical and emotional torment is evident in her small features. Her shoulder-length strawberry blonde hair is a matted mess with knots and dried blood. Her hazel eyes, which seemed to be browner at the moment, are bloodshot from the constant tears that fell from the corners. Her thin lip quivered as a bruise adorned on the left side, and a small trickle of blood slid down her chin. Her fair skin is covered in red welts and scars along her arms. What little skin was visible of her legs has blotches of palm-sized red marks. These red marks are more so located at her ankles and are slightly swollen.

Ruth Greyson is thirteen years of age and a victim of child abuse for a long time now. During the years she could remember, not once was she able to find a place to call her safe place. She always ran. Ruth would disappear for hours only to return to the hell hole called home. She can't turn to anyone for comfort, though. Not only does Ruth suffer from abuse, but she is constantly bullied by her peers. It's relentless at times, especially the dreaded name-calling.

The Bastard Kid, that's what they always refer her by, and she hates it. Why do they call her that? Because of her mother's poor life choices, that's why. But why should she be bullied for something that Ruth has no control over? It's not Ruth's fault her mother chose to sleep with several men at the same time and not know who the father is. Why would anyone want to treat someone like dirt and show no pity or remorse? It's disheartening and callous.

Ruth sat alone on the steps of the dark house on Neibolt Street, hugging herself tightly from the most recent outburst from her supposed father lashing out at her. The muscles of her arms still hurt from his massive fists pounding at her. Her throat is still sore from screaming, but the one thing that bothers Ruth the most is her head. He harshly slammed her head onto the living room floor. He even landed a punch to the back of her head that should have knocked her out. Except, her willingness to fight him off was stronger than submitting to the darkness, which clouded her vision then. A good swift kick to his groin made him stop his advances then momentarily thrown him off. She punted him like a football in the stomach for good measure before escaping and then came here of all places.

Usually, people avoided this house at all costs. It is sinister to be around. Ruth didn't see it that way, at least not anymore. She, too, found the home on 29 Neibolt Street to be eerie and foreboding. Now it seems to be the one place she could hide from the world and stay there, at least for a while. Her tears finally ceased, and all that remained was the puffy redness around her eyes. A sudden shaky sigh escaped her lips as it is an attempt to calm herself after what had happened. She must calm down and quickly, for that matter, as the events that led up to this point is beginning to alter her mindset.

Has this gone far enough? Ruth thought to herself.

Her head hung low to rid herself of these dark thoughts consuming her mind. She wanted it all to end. How can she go about in ending it all, though? The cop way out or fight through it and talk to someone that might help her. She thought the first option was better of the two. Who would want to listen to her and help the girl out anyway? What exactly can she do to rid herself of these dark and selfish thoughts?

A thought did come to mind, but a sudden creak from a floorboard alerted Ruth. She snapped her gaze to the house behind her. Ruth strains her eyes, looking in every shadow for a possible intruder. When she saw nothing, Ruth turned her attention back to the sky. Its near sundown. The orange glow from the big ball at the horizon blazed in the distance, illuminating Ruth's hair like fire. It's a stark contrast from the massive black shadow of a house behind her, which made her feel out of place and vulnerable. Even when she found a place to possibly hide away from all the bullshit, something always made her stand out. Ruth heaved another heavy sigh from her lungs before she came to the conclusion that she should probably start heading back to her supposed home.

Her father should have recovered by now and is most likely drunk from drinking away his pain and problems. Her mother should be returning home, too, and is probably loaded with more drugs or doped up to the point of killing herself. Oh, what a beautiful place to be. Ruth gulped slightly before standing from the rickety step. She stopped when the floor inside the house groaned unpleasantly. Her chest constricted to hold back a breath as Ruth remained still in her spot. She listened to the noises coming from behind her. Ruth is not alone.

Ruth slowly glances over her shoulder to the open door. The darkness of the house made it difficult to see. After a moment, a figure slowly loomed out from the shadows and towards Ruth. Alarmed but not quite frightened, she watched the large shape come closer. By the time they stood in the doorway, Ruth's hazel eyes had grown wide in terror.

How in the fucking hell did he find me? Ruth thought to herself as she stared at the figure absolutely petrified.

"Hello Ruthie," a low baritone of a voice echoed in her eardrums. It was her father. He stared at the terrified girl with a mocking grin that seemed like his own.

Ruth inwardly cringed at the name her father had given her. She hates her name. Ruth dared not to say anything in return, though. She is afraid of what the man would do if she attempted to speak. So, she just stared at him while trembling uncontrollably from head to toe. Ruth prepares herself for any blows that he may lay upon her person.

"Aww, what's the matter, Ruthie," he started again as he took a step out of the dark home in an odd fashion which Ruth noticed.

She watched him step onto the porch with the same grin plastered on his face, fear starting to ebb through her veins. He bent low to come eye level of the terrified Ruth, showing off his teeth that looked different than what they were supposed to be.

"Cat got your tongue?"

Oh god, there is something terribly off about him. Ruth is not staying around to let the man inflict more damage on her. As he stepped closer, Ruth snapped herself out of her fear and bolted. She rushed down the worn-out steps of the house, stumbling a little. Ruth ran to the wrought iron fence that is supposed to guard the house, but once she stepped on the pavement, she stops. Just stops as if something occurred to her then which made Ruth question who is behind her.

First off, her father would not come out of the house looking for Ruth just to punish her further. Secondly, she realized now the tone in his voice is off by several octaves. Thirdly, his eyes were a different shade than usual. The person behind her is not the father she knows but someone attempting to impersonate him.

Ruth returns her gaze back to the house. Her eyes land on the open doorway, hoping whoever it was is gone now. Instead, she saw someone else standing on the rotted black porch. Confusion overwhelmed Ruth as her eyes fixed on a clown in an old Victorian silver clown suit with red pom-pom like buttons. He has orange hair that looked more red and fierce in the setting sun. There is a goofy smile on his face but wide enough where she can see his buck teeth. In his gloved right hand are a dozen or more of red balloons, floating gently above his bulbous head.

Who the fuck is that?

Ruth couldn't help but stare at the clown, genuinely confused and maybe even a little curious. Her head cocked to the side slightly, where she then acknowledged the clown is eyeing her hungrily. A thin eyebrow quirked up at this, but Ruth remained rooted to her spot while watching the clown. As Ruth eyed him from afar, she got this odd feeling running through her bones. There is this sense of tranquility clouding her mind. Its as if this calm is trying to lure her back to the house. She wasn't quite sure why. Maybe its an attempt on the clown's part to draw her close and rip a limb off her.

"What's the matter, Ruthie? Am I not real enough for you?" the clown asked as it shook his head, causing bells that Ruth couldn't see to jingle.

For some strange reason, Ruth liked the sound of those invisible bells. There may be something incredibly off about this clown where she feels slightly intimidated by him, but he also seems approachable. It must be this particular childlike demeanor about him. She quickly scans the road for anyone watching her before turning back to the clown. He remained to stand on the porch with his goofy smile.

"No, you're real, and my name is Ruth." She started, her voice is refined and silvery.

"May I ask who you are?" Ruth asked as she slowly started back towards the house. She is cautious as to not get too close if the clown decided to go all maniac on her.

She watched as his eyes went from a menacing gold to a sparkling blue like tropical waters. His goofy yet devious smile became jovial as if he is putting on an act to entice the child.

"Who am I? Why I'm Pennywise the Dancing the Clown." The clown named Pennywise replied with a little skip. He mimics a little dance, which made the invisible bells to jingle again.

A small, shy smile formed on Ruth's lips as she again hesitantly approaches Pennywise.

Pennywise noticed but is quick to ease her discomfort. "You can come closer, I won't bite."

Hard, Pennywise thought to himself as he watched the girl approach him.

"I have a balloon for you. Maybe even two if you come just a little further," Pennywise added.

He watched Ruth take a step forward but instead sat down on the walkway with her knees up to her chest. Pennywise inwardly growled, frustrated with the girl. Although he had to give the girl credit as she seemed smarter, then she appeared. Typically children are naive and would listen to the stranger than their own self-consciousness.

Ruth eyed Pennywise from a fair distance as she settled herself down on the pavement, watching every move he made. She's smart enough to know the clown is trying to entice her into coming close for a reason. Ruth made it apparent she is not like the others.

"Sorry, but if you don't mind, I'm going to sit here. I can't be too trusting of people." Ruth explained halfheartedly.

"Sage advice, indeed. I suppose your parents taught you well."

Ruth stared blankly, gulping. Her parents never gave her any sort of advice, let alone taught her anything about life. The only thing they taught her is to stay still when there were beating up on her.

"No, it's my own." She answered. Ruth hugged herself close as if she were trying to hide the scars that adorned her heart.

Pennywise noted the tone in her voice as guarded. He did also notice the bruises and scars on her arms, even on her lip.

An abused child, Pennywise thought.

He stared down at the girl who appeared small and frail. He could use that to his advantage. He can give her an alternative that she would not refuse. Before he could open his mouth, Ruth spoke again that snapped him out of his thoughts.

"Do you actually live here?" Ruth asked him curiously.

She looked up at the dark wooden house then back at Pennywise, who seemed confused with the question.

"This place has been empty for years. I didn't think anyone lived here anymore. I'm sorry if I intruded on you. I just needed somewhere to hide for a while."

"Why?" Pennywise asked, truly confused with this exchange.

"Why, what? Hide? I ran from home earlier because of my father, well, who I think is my father."

She became quiet, reflecting on the events from earlier this evening, which brought Ruth here, to begin with. Ruth thought she found a place to hide, but apparently, it is occupied with Pennywise the Clown. She's disappointed, to say the least. She would have to find someplace else.

Pennywise noticed the change in the girl's attitude from her facial features. He thought back to helping the girl escape it all. His devious smile returned then slowly held a red balloon out for Ruth, who looked at him again with curiosity yet glum.

"It can all go away, Ruth. Have a balloon, it floats."

All Ruth could do is stare. She didn't have to ask what he was implying because she knew. Ruth had thought about truly ending it all, so she had to wonder if the clown had read her mind. The offer sounded too good not to pass up, but is it really the answer? She intensely eyed the balloon as it started towards her, slowly creeping yet so close that she could see her reflection. The longer Ruth sat there, the offer became so much easier to accept, especially since she could smell something salty like the ocean. She began to hear seagulls squawking and waves crashing on the sandy beach. Is that really what Ruth wants? A place where she could actually see and feel freedom from her horrid life? A small exhale escaped her lungs as she slowly reached for the white string that dragged along the walkway.

Ruth focused on the balloon in front of her, oblivious of the excited glee on Pennywise's face and the bright gold eyes. He watched as the transfixed Ruth reached for the string, readying himself to pounce on the girl and drag her into the depths of the house. Pennywise will make her scared and devour her whole, ending that horrid life that she has been living for the last five years. He anticipated the taste of her fear that he couldn't contain himself much longer. Pennywise crotched low like a lion on the hunt and was about to spring forward when there was a sudden beeping sound.

Confused, maybe even a little curious, let alone irritated, he searched for the source. Pennywise eventually located where the beeping sound was, and it is coming from the child. He could have leaped at her, but Pennywise noticed Ruth blinking herself out of the trance. She looked confused for a moment before realization crept on her features then looked down at her left wrist. Ruth stood quickly as a curse of a word escaped her lips then looked over in his direction, finding him in his crouched position.

When Ruth heard something beeping, she immediately returned to the present by blinking away the feeling of peace. Of course, Ruth was confused but realized quickly that it was the watch on her wrist that was making the sound. Once she looked down and saw the time of six forty-five, Ruth abruptly stood as she mouthed "shit" under her breath. She needed to leave and fast.

Ruth looked over at the house towards the clown, only to find him in his crouched position who looked rather comical than intimidating and has this surprised, deer caught in the headlights expression on him. She couldn't help but look at him oddly while trying to suppress a giggle. Ruth breathed heavily to shove it away before she opened her mouth in amusement.

"Sorry, but I need to get going. There's a seven o'clock curfew because of all the missing children, and I would hate to be caught out here. It was nice to meet you, Pennywise, hopefully, I will get to see you again." Ruth replied, then started for the street, already dreading going back home.

She glanced over her shoulder back at the clown to see him still in his hunched position but looked extremely angry for some reason. She gave him a small smile before taking off down the street, disappearing from view within minutes.

Pennywise continued to stay where he was, furious that he didn't get to pounce on the girl when he had the chance. He would just have to find another child to prey on for his next meal. He slowly stood back to the flat of his shoes, eyeing the empty street with a curious thought running through his mind. Why did the girl say it was nice meeting him, let alone wanted to see him again? Pennywise hoped that if the girl did show up back here that he will be able to induce fear and do her in.

That is if this were the only time he would ever see Ruth. Even though he saw the landscape of scars on her flesh, the amount of dread and lack of life, the girl will do the deed herself. Or perhaps the adults will get to her first before she even thinks of taking her life. With that thought plaguing his mind, Pennywise drifted back into the darkness.

Darkness had fallen by the time Ruth returned home. She silently inched the front door open, trying her best not to make a sound. Ruth knows her parents are asleep after inducing themselves with alcohol or something that gave them a high, and it's best not to wake them. It does help that Ruth memorized their patterns over the years yet also remembered where in the house they laid.

Her father, Jonathan Greyson Jr, had drunken himself into a stupor and is passed out across the bed in the master that is down the hall. Her mother, Jordan, is drugged up with some sort of narcotic, maybe even drunk, and is either high off her horse or passed out in the living room. Which the living room is just off to the right of the front entryway. Ruth has to pass the living room to get to her bedroom, which is adjacent to a small bathroom and the kitchen.

Ruth very carefully wedged herself through the narrow opening of the door, which she allowed just enough to slid in and gently closed the door behind her. She peeked around the corner to look into the living room to find her lump of a mother passed out on the dirty couch. Her mother's dingy and food-stained pink blouse is covered at the front with a putrid yellowish-tan vomit. A cigarette still burned in between her fingers in one hand while the other rested on the armrest.

Ruth waited a moment to make sure the woman is indeed asleep. When there was no sign of movement, Ruth then looked down at her watch to see that it was fifteen minutes after seven. She's late getting back. If her mother were awake, she would have a bird. Ruth did not intend to arrive this late. If she hadn't taken a detour to avoid being seen by Henry Bowers and his gang, let alone the police that was patrolling the streets, Ruth would have been home on time. She looked over the sleeping form of her mother again before silently making her way towards her room.

She wasn't three feet from the opening when Ruth heard a female call out to her in a very groggy tone. "Amber?"

Ruth stilled, an overwhelming sense of dread overcame her that she closed her eyes briefly. God, she hates that name. You would think that someone would love their first name, but Ruth hates it with a passion. If she remembers correctly, she was named after her grandmother on her mother's side. Ruth is the name of her grandmother on her father's side. Why did they choose to name her after both of their mothers? Was it just to remind themselves of how much they hate their own mothers after they were shunned? If she were able to, Ruth would love to change her name to Vivian, because of the movie actress who played the role of Scarlett O'Hara in Gone With the Wind. It fits her better, plus she likes the nickname, Vivi, for some reason.

Ruth suddenly remembered her mother called for her, and she doesn't want to be called on again. It just means disobedience on her part. She backed up to the opening of the living room then peered inside to see her mother, slowly sitting up to eye her.

"Come here." Her mother demanded anger rising in her groggy tone.

Ruth immediately started forwards, slowly gulping panic down that bubbled in her stomach. When she approached the couch, Ruth stood inches away from the edge. Ruth knew if she stood too close, she would throw up from the smell that was emanating from the vomit ridden blouse.

"You're late. Why?"

"I lost track of time." She lied, really not wanting to say anything that she detoured to avoid being seen.

"Bullshit."

Jordan leaned forward then grabbed at Ruth's arm, gripping it harshly to pull her forwards. She forced Ruth closer to her blouse that is covered with her vomit, making the girl inwardly gag.

"Let's try this again. Why are you late?" Jordan demanded again, her groggy voice slowly returning to her normal soft but loud tone.

"I had to make a detour." Ruth quickly replied, trying her very best not to throw up on her mother.

"Why?"

"To avoid being seen by Henry Bowers and his goons, along with not being seen by the police."

"Henry Bowers," Jordan paused for a moment to look over Ruth, looking for any marks that may have been caused by the boy.

She knew that Henry Bowers had an odd attraction towards Ruth and heard through the grapevine that he groped Ruth, which he also attempted to leave his mark on her. Needless to say, she hates the kid and his father.

"He didn't see you, correct?"

"He didn't see me."

"That's a smart girl," Jordan complimented for once. "He and his father are the worse."

Maybe not as a much as you and Jonathan, Ruth thought to herself.

"The cops didn't see you either, right?"

"Right."

"Good girl," Jordan replied rather softly.

She shoved Ruth away from her blouse, forcing her to stand slightly bent forward now.

Jordan watched Ruth for a moment to see if the girl would falter and look relieved from not being punished, but the girl kept a blank expression. Wanting to make Ruth cringe, Jordan brought her still burning cigarette up to the girl's arm and smothered it into her flesh.

The burning sensation did hurt, but Ruth kept her expression from faltering as to not show any sign of discomfort or pain. She knows her mother gets joy out of her pain and would only feel satisfied if she let out a whimper or at least a strangled scream. This, however, is nothing compared to all the other times, her mother tortured her. Jordan has a pocket knife that she keeps on hand and has actually used it on her.

When Jordan didn't get the result she wanted, she pulled the cigarette away from Ruth's creamy flesh to toss it onto the floor. She continued to grip Ruth's arm as she rummaged through her pockets for her knife. When she finally located it and sprung the blade out, she slid the knife across Ruth's wrist, carefully avoiding any major arteries. Ruth gulped hardly before a small whimper escaped her lips when the blade was close to her thumb.

Jordan smiled crookedly when she heard Ruth make that sound. It is more intoxicating than the narcotics she consumed earlier and the three beers on top of it. Jordan could tell from how tense Ruth is that the girl is resisting in pulling away from her. Its something she has caught on over the years. Whenever her daughter had enough pain being inflicted upon her, she would want to pull away. But that always meant more torment on her person.

If Jordan doesn't pull her blade away from Ruth, she will eventually slide the metal blade across the girl's wrist. She may have the desire to put harm onto the girl, but she will never want to kill her unless she absolutely had to. That thought alone made Jordan pull her blade back then released Ruth's arm.

Ruth slowly drew her arm back, fighting the urge to hold onto her wounded hand as it brought pleasure to Jordan. She learned over the years of what not to do, one of those being not to quickly grab at the wound. It will only make her mother want to put more harm on Ruth, and pulling back quickly is just as bad. Ruth watched her mother lean back on the couch with her pocket knife at her lips, just barely licking the blood. Ruth again fought the urge to throw up. This always disgusted her.

An antagonizing minute went by until Jordan regarded her fully, watching Ruth if she will fold and start showing her moment of weakness. It never came, and it disappointed her.

Oh well, she thought then turned her gaze away from her.

"Go patch yourself up, Amber, and find something to eat. You look like you haven't eaten in days. Fucking worthless, hopeless child," Jordan ordered.

She rolls onto her side to sleep off the high that returned.

That's because I haven't, Ruth said smartly to herself then exited the living room.

Ruth slowly trudged down the small hallway to the bathroom, fighting hard to keep a sob from escaping her throat. After her earlier encounter with Jonathan and now this incident with her mother, she really had to wonder when will enough be enough. Ruth lives in this dark fear of dying one day by the hands of own her mother or Jonathan's. There is so much abuse that it is starting to take a toll on her. It is not just the physical abuse from both her mother and Jonathan, its also emotional even sexual. It happens daily, and you really have to wonder why Ruth doesn't just leave to go to a better place. Because there really isn't anywhere else for her to go. No one wants her, really. The handful of times she tried leaving Derry for good, something always kept her back or turn around. Ruth would feel this pull in the pit of her stomach and loveless heart to stay. She can't tell if it is because Ruth is meant to be punished and die here in Derry or if there is something waiting for her here. What would that be? Ruth wished she knew.

She sighed heavily, then forced herself into the bathroom to tend to the cut on her hand. Ruth worked quickly as a nurse in gathering the supplies she needed then sat on the edge of the bathtub. She worked just as fast in cleaning the wound, applied ointment along the cut line then placed butterfly bandages to seal the cut so it would heal properly. Ruth momentarily put a gauze pad on it then promptly wrapped it like a skilled RN. She looked down at her handy work, actually proud of herself that she successfully bandaged her left hand. She read plenty of medical books at the library on properly bandaging her wounds, but also to expand her mind.

Ruth is relatively smart. She has found herself at the library in town more often than the library at her school, mostly because she just wanted to avoid all the kids. She loves to read, and it really doesn't matter what genre either. It would either be science fiction novels or historical, even classic literature. Ruth also enjoys reading up on subjects such as psychology, medicine, criminology, and law. On the other hand, she has an odd fascination for horror and thrillers. Ruth even enjoys a good dark fantasy, magical realism, or medieval mixed with sorcery. It invigorates her senses.

Maybe I should spend the day at the library tomorrow, Ruth thought.

It's a much better place to be than here, especially when Jonathan recovers from his drunken state. Ruth usually tries to avoid him the next day as he gets very hostile after she fights him off. Her thoughts were disturbed when her stomach grumbled unhappily, reminding her that she hasn't eaten anything.

She hasn't had a proper meal in several days, mostly because her mother used up all the money again to purchase drugs. Jonathan doesn't make that much money either with him being a contractor. He brings in just enough to pay for the bills and some groceries. Her mother works at a diner, which makes little money, to begin with, and doesn't work that hard for tips. So they are always hurting for money.

Ruth headed out of the bathroom to the kitchen to find something to eat. As she entered the room, Ruth can hear her mother snoring loudly in the living room. It sounded like a chainsaw was attempting to rev up. Ruth rolled her eyes in exasperation then started looking through the cabinets and refrigerator. There really isn't much in the fridge: several cases of beer, milk that looked like it has expired, a half carton of eggs, a jar of disgusting pickles, and pizza that is probably a week old. Ruth sighed then turned her attention to the cabinets again. She saw a box of Cheerios, surprisingly still fresh and about a cup and a half left, several cans of chicken noodle soup, peas, corn, a can of SPAM, or shit posing as meat, and what looked like a tin box cookies.

Ruth didn't hesitate to snatch the cookies, peering inside to make sure if it was real. She hid a smile before grabbing them and one of the soups. Ruth needed the protein anyway, the cookies were just a lucky find but is smart enough to leave the tin box behind. If anything, Jonathan will believe that Jordan ate them when she was high off her kite, especially when it came to marijuana. Ruth has seen her mother munch on anything that was within eyesight whenever she consumed the drug and has, in the past, ate stuff that belonged to Jonathan.

These cookies, however, Ruth realized were not Jonathan's. She may hate him, but she has learned that he hates chocolate chip cookies, and her mother is actually allergic to chocolate. Ruth had seen it happen once, which Jonathan was quick enough to get Jordan medical attention before her throat swelled up to the point of blocking the airway. Ruth questions if she should even take them now. What if this was just a trap? Or is Jonathan not as bad he seems?

Fuck it, Ruth said to herself then turned on her heel to leave the kitchen. She looked down the hallway then over in the direction of the chainsaw before she silently sneaked into her room, completely missing the dark shadow that stood in the bathroom.

It's dark in the room except for the light from the moon that shone outside Ruth's window. It's peaceful and quiet in here, for the time being, the only sound is the occasional clanging of the spoon hitting the soup can. She sat on her bed with her back resting on the headboard and staring out into the night. This is the only time of day where she can get any kind of peace and quiet, but how long will it take for Jonathan to intrude and disturb it. She has seen the way he's been looking at her lately, and it is quite unnerving. Ruth finally figured out that those cookies she found were a gift for her from him, as if he's trying to get into her good graces and seduce her into submission.

She now wished that she didn't take them, but it is rare for her to get anything sweet, especially cookies. Jonathan may have gotten them specifically for her, so he could try something with her, or maybe asking for forgiveness from her for putting up a fight earlier, Ruth will still enjoy them. Only for her satisfaction, not his. If he ever asks about it, she knows how to lie to him and find a way to slam an object up against his skull if he even attempted something.

She may look frail to some, but the reality is, Ruth is a headstrong fighter in physical combat. Ruth studied up self-defense through self-taught books and has a pretty good memory on how to perform the moves without having to consult the manual for guidance. Has she ever used them to her advantage? Not entirely, the only person that has is Jonathan, but he doesn't know the extent of her ability. Ruth will exhibit the full degree of this knowledge when she absolutely needs to. It's best to keep it under wraps, anyway.

Once Ruth finished up the soup and set it aside on her nightstand, she immediately reached for the cookies. Ruth returns to stare out into the night. She thought back to her encounter with Pennywise earlier as she munched on the scrumptious baked desert, really curious now as to why he was inside that house. Ruth knows what goes on in that house, but does he actually live in it? It would consider him a crack head like all the others. She found that possibility unlikely as she remembered that Jonathan was supposed to be standing in the same spot when she saw the clown.

So, Ruth had to wonder if Pennywise the Clown was some sort of entity that shifted its appearance to best suit its circumstances. Now that is a highly unlikely scenario. She doesn't believe in ghosts or otherworldly beings, so that can't be the case. There must be a logical explanation for it. Maybe Ruth thought she saw Jonathan there and was just a figment of her imagination. Or perhaps the guy was really a crack head dressed as a clown and was just looking for some entertainment.

Yeah, that has to be it, Ruth thought to herself.

She sighed heavily as sleep slowly started to settle in. Ruth knew that if she succumbed to sleep now, the possibility of intrusion is high. She knows that Jonathan eventually wakes in the evening after their encounters, and Ruth does not want to get caught in this vulnerable state. She would not be able to fight him off. Ruth fought the sleepiness away then stretched over to her nightstand to grab her journal to occupy herself. Besides, she needed to get a lot off her chest. Ruth believes writing is necessary, as it can be therapeutic to the mind, but it can also be used as substantial evidence for the authorities if something were to happen.

As she started to write her first thought, drowsiness started to overwhelm her vision. She fought it off once again only to feel it return just as fast.

I'm so tired, but I don't want to sleep, Ruth thought when her eyes closed briefly.

In the silence of her mind, the bells she heard from Pennywise started to chime like a lullaby. It started out as a whisper then slowly escalated in volume as it became a soft and soothing melody.

ting-a-ling, ting-a-ling, ting-a-ling

The sound is hypnotic. She can feel her eyelids grow heavy as exhaustion hit her like a freight train. Ruth wanted to ignore the light music and focus on the house settling. She can hear the creaks and groans with the occasional chainsaw snore of her mother. She would have fought the tiredness off if a long, hard yawn hadn't escaped her lips, causing her eyes to water.

ting-a-ling, ting-a-ling, ting-a-ling

Ruth sighed heavily in defeat, knowing full well she can't fight the exhaustion any longer. The sounds of unseen bells played softly in her mind, lulling Ruth into a sound slumber within minutes. Her head slowly rolled to the side, the off-balance caused her to slid from the headboard to the window sill with a soft thud. Her journal long forgotten in her lap. The only words that she was able to write on paper were, "I met a clown today."

ting-a-ling, ting-a-ling

The unseen bells made one last chime as Ruth falls into a deep sleep, her vulnerability exposed. Luckily for her, Jonathan won't wake until early dawn, and neither would Jordan, as she would wake when the sun rose from the horizon. The only person that could take this opportunity of Ruth's weakness is the clown that stood in the shadows.

IT eyed Ruth's sleeping form with glee, oh what kind of deep-rooted fears do you have, Ruthie?