A/N: Hey, guys! First off, I want to thank those who left reviews. I very much appreciate them! They all made me grin and squeal ;) You all made my mornings brighter.

I'm working on getting a couple of scenes written out while they are still fresh in mind. PLUS, I have the epilogue all ready to go.

The next couple of chapters will explore the few encounters Ruth has with the other characters.

So you all know, I had the plot for my story taking place during the film. It's how I see it happening, and I don't see it any other way. Even if I tried changing. ;)

Anyway, enjoy the read, and thanks for the reviews!

A week before

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 then 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 slowly sat up and rubbed her eyes. Ruth had to wonder when she last had nightmares.

It's been quite a while, like several years. 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?

I wonder if 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 crack head dressed as a clown trigger these nightmares? She was never afraid of clowns. She isn't even scared of who is behind the paint. Two, those dreams could just be a trigger from all the stress around her.

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?

Starvation does cause hallucinations, Ruth rationalized.

Ruth forced herself out of bed to get dressed in the grayness of her room. Light from the sun started to break through the clouds. 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.

By the time she was done, Ruth silently opened her bedroom door 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 silently closed the door behind her, tip-toeing to the opposite end of the house.

Oh god, this is a horrible idea! If Jonathan were to catch her peeking in and saw him naked, he would pounce on her like a wildebeest. If she found him in the middle of jerking off, she will gag. The thought of it made her want to hurl. She breathed heavily to calm down, panic coursing through her veins. Ruth does not want to look.

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 then she should have but found her target. He's still asleep and fully clothed. Except, the stench in the room made her nose wrinkle in disgust. The man drank so much he didn't have a choice in controlling his bodily fluids. The smell is coming from Jonathan, his pants soiled. The grown-ass man drank himself to the point of shitting himself. Ruth wants to feel sympathetic, but how could she when he sexually abuses her. She couldn't laugh either, because it is not funny.

Despite his current condition, Ruth is satisfied that he would not wake. She 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 in the house 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. She wouldn't know unless she explored the house. It is risky, but Ruth wanted to see that she is not going crazy.

Ruth quickly 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 and about to trespass. Her attempt went unheard. Once she approached the open door and peered inside, Ruth's determination vanished. She looked around the deteriorating foyer, finding no one in sight.

Maybe they slept upstairs, Ruth thought.

She 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 right side of the foyer. A chandelier covered in spider webs, branches, and leaves hung above an aged Victorian couch, muted in color from the sunlight. It looked inviting instead of eerie. In reality, the whole interior of the darkened house seemed inviting 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 lips, frustrated in not finding anyone in the house. Hobos, potheads, and crackheads alike have been known to trespass. They even lived in it during the colder winter months. It should be no different now, right?

Ruth huffed loudly before turning on her heel to return to the foyer. She started up the stairs when a thought occurred to her. What if whoever Ruth saw is up there and trying to lure her up? She immediately backed away to stand 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 stillness in the Neibolt house.

"Pennywise!"

Why did she have to start by calling out their name? A simple "hello" would have worked fine, but no. Honestly, the name stuck with her. Ruth likes it. The name Pennywise seems unique. 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. She 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 with a mixture of relief and 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 shaded eyes, but no such person appeared. With a sad frown, Ruth turned away. She completely forgets her encounter with the clown in an instant.

Unbeknownst to her, a pair of golden eyes watched her leave.

The rest of her walk to the library is uneventful and quiet. There aren'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. It's probably best I didn't have a sibling, Ruth thinks to herself.

Ruth remembers approaching Bill to at least 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 thought 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 and turns a corner. Ruth stops in her tracks, eyes widening. She holds a breath when Ruth saw Henry Bowers and his gang heading in her direction. Shit!

Ruth recoils and presses herself against the building. Her breathing hitches when she hears their feet getting closer. Shit, fuck, son of a crack whore! Not today, PLEASE, not today!

She steadily releases her breath, quickly yet silently inching herself away from the opening. Ruth kept her eyes on the edge of the building, keeping an eye on them. Once she came close to the other end, Ruth turns sharply to press against the brick building when Henry Bowers crests. She couldn't see them, but he and his gang continued forwards. They didn't see her.

She waits a moment to see if they would come around the corner and attack. None came. Ruth is in the clear.

"Holy shit on a shingle! That was close." Ruth says out loud to herself.

Ruth knew if Henry and his goons saw her, things will go badly quick. Her last encounter got Ruth in a lot of trouble with both Jordan and Jonathan. The bruise on her left butt cheek and his attempt to mark her had them furious. She probably shouldn't have struck him, but it was better than getting carved like a turkey for a Thanksgiving dinner.

She looks over her shoulder in the direction they went, making sure they weren't lying in wait. Not there. Ruth even investigated her immediate surroundings, just in case. Still nothing. Now that Ruth is out of danger, she continues on to the library. Hopefully, her day would go well without any more problems or altercations.

The morning dragged on like usual. The library remained silent as the grave, 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 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 for the third time now. Ruth is 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 her table. It's the new kid and overweight Ben Hanscom.

Ruth knows for a fact that he is friendless at this point. Maybe, she can try befriending him. He could use a friend like Ruth desperately does. She holds her head high and confidently walks back to her table. When she returned, he barely made a glance in her direction at first. Ruth sat on the opposing end and off to the side. That's when he noticed her from the corner of his eye.

He glances up from his book, startled. Ben noticed Ruth opening the one book she swiped.

"What are you doing?" Ben inquires.

Ruth turns to him, smiling slightly. "Sitting and about to read this book."

"I know that, but," he paused, looking around at the other tables.

"Why here? I was here first."

Surprised, Ruth glares. "First? What is this, preschool? And so, you know, I was here long before you decided to sit here, Ben."

"You know my name? Oh, wait, right. Of course, you do. We were in science class together. How do you figure you were here before me?" Ben questioned, growing agitated.

Ruth stares, shoving her stack of books in his line of vision.

"Oh," Ben muttered.

He starts to gather his things when Ruth interjects. "You don't have to leave, Ben. We can share the table. I don't have cooties."

Ben scuffs, "Who's in preschool, now? And who's to say you do?"

Ruth cocks her head. "What does that supposed to mean?"

Someone shushes them from behind Ben, giving her a dirty look. She returns with an apologetic glare and mouthed sorry.

She saw Ben grimace slightly, glancing over his shoulder at them and apologized, too.

He snaps his gaze back on Ruth, whispering harshly. "You're the Bastard Kid."

Ruth felt a pang, choosing not to say a word. Seriously, even him?

Ben doesn't say anything, only glances at her books. He 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 drew his brows upwards.

"Um, that is an interesting choice. Why don't you read at home?"

Ruth cringed, hating the thought of returning home. 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'd rather not. I would much rather be someplace else 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.

"Just, let me sit here, please." Ruth requests avoiding eye contact.

He regards Ruth, considering. After a moment of thick silence, Ben responds tightly.

"Will you promise not to 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. Really nice, Ben.

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 assist Ben in finding a book, Ben and Ruth kept to themselves. She would occasionally look over at him but would say nothing. After a while, Ruth noticed what Ben's history project is about. Her stomach churned sickeningly.

I know I shouldn't, but I'm going to anyway. Sorry, Ben, Ruth thought to herself and took the plunge.

"You will get 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.

"I've read the book myself. It took me a day to read the whole thing. There have been some pretty gruesome deaths and events here in Derry. It's sad, really. The Kitchener Ironworks, especially. It exploded in 1908, killing 102 people. 88 of which were children at an Easter egg hunt." Ruth contorts her features, pausing.

"Now that I'm thinking about it, a lot of those occurrences dealt with children. 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. "Really? 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 answered.

"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, glaring at Ruth oddly.

Ruth caught it.

"Oh, no. No, she is not my friend." Ben quickly defends, not even caring if he hurt Ruth's feelings.

Ouch. "Oh gee, thanks, Ben. Here I thought maybe you would want a friend when you didn't have one, to begin with. Just how many people signed your yearbook?" Ruth bit.

"One, actually." Ben triumphantly grins, taunting her.

Ruth's jaw sets, rolling her eyes. You are a pompous ass!

"Oh, wow, that's great," she sarcastically bit, forcing a smile. "You set my record of zero."

Ruth immediately starts grabbing the books, needing someplace else to read. She starts to walk off when a thought struck her. Ruth remembered almost running into Bowers, and she knows Henry likes to torture Ben. Despite his rudeness, Ruth will still watch out for him. She heaves a sigh then glares at Ben hurtfully.

"I want to warn you, Ben. I almost ran into Henry Bowers earlier. So, please be careful when you leave here. Have fun with your history project."

With that, Ruth storms away.

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. He, in a way, 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 is just 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 to her. She's 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 he know that Ben will have one hell of a fright.

It's quiet in this corner. Ruth should have thought about it 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. Whatever.

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.

Mrs. Starret?

Ruth glances from her book to investigate, finding a frightened Ben run into view. He makes a quick glance in her direction, startled still. He struggled to say anything since Ben looked like a fish out of water. Despite what happened earlier, Ruth displayed concern. She mouths, "Are you alright?"

He quickly shook his head, then 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 turns to Ruth, bewildered. Ruth stares at her for a moment, shrugging then returned to her book.

Ruth misses the floating red balloon behind her.