A/N: Hey, guys! I hope everyone is doing well and had a great week. Be prepared, I'm introducing Jonathan. So, fair warning there is course language. You will also get a glimpse into Ruth's mindset.
Will this turn into a Ruth/Stan pairing in the future? Maybe, maybe not. You'll see. :)
Anyway, enjoy the read!
It's getting late. The walk from town to here was quiet. It's how Ruth likes it. Silence. It lets her think. She thought about her meet with Mike Hanlon. It was sweet and innocent yet heroic. Ruth fondly smiles at Mike's friendliness. He was generous and made her feel appreciated. Mike acknowledged her for who she was and not by the dreaded name. Mike will always see and refer to her as Ruth.
Her running into with Stanley left her feeling strangely excited. Yes, she can't be around him or the others; however, he displayed a kindness Ruth craves. He was attentive to her needs and stood up for her. Stan was always red in the cheeks and seemed nervous around her. Ruth can only assume that the cute Jewish boy found it difficult to speak with her. It answered her assumption of why he wouldn't do more at school. The boy secretly has a crush on her. "The love-struck idiot" as Richie referred to him.
When Ruth neared her destination, she lightly smiled. Ruth even scuffed at the "No Trespassing" signs upon her approach. The dark and brooding house is eerie. The overgrown grass and weeds added to its intimidating presence. The three-foot sunflowers sagely danced in the light breeze as a touch of innocence. The flowers were only a mask of what really laid beyond the yard. The spooky tree, with its grotesque limbs, stretched like many fingers towards the clouds. Its windows boarded and dingy from the weather. The spires atop the roof reminded Ruth of a medieval castle with the hexagonal-like round room. She can tell the old Victorian home used to be lively and prosperous.
Everyone she knows stays far from here. Its spooky exterior keeps people away. Except, the Neibolt house brought Ruth comfort. Creepy doesn't frighten her. Pennywise, the Dancing Clown, may reside here, but Ruth can only hope the drunken man in the clown suit wouldn't mind her company. She won't bother him. All Ruth wants in her lonely, dark world is a place to call her haven. A friend is second on her list of things Ruth wished she had. Her safe place is her number one. Hopefully, the Neibolt House is the place.
She sighs heavily, staring into the empty cracker jack box. The sugary popcorn and peanut snack will tie her off until Ruth can scrounge something up at home. That is if Jonathan doesn't do anything to her upon arrival. She shakes her head, Ruth does not want to think about it, at least not now. Ruth glanced over her shoulder at the broken door. She had hoped the clown was watching her, but no such luck. With another breath, Ruth stood from the steps.
Upon standing, the cold prickle returned. Ruth stops. The sensation traveled down her spine to her toes. Curious, yet feeling alarmed Ruth turns her attention to the house. The impulsion to run ebbed in her veins. She ignores it, though. Slowly, Ruth approached the skewed door with caution.
Someone is here.
She peers slightly, angling her torso to see inside.
Nothing. Only emptiness and silence.
Ruth hums curiously, screwing her lips. She is itching to explore the house. She glances down at her watch, six-thirty. It's much too late for Ruth to investigate the house.
Maybe another time, Ruth thought.
She descends the steps and down the cracked, weed sprung path. Ruth stops from a thought. She glances back at the house and pulls the second box of cracker jacks from within the shopping bag. She returned to the steps and sets the carton on the deck as a peace offering.
She smiles and scans the door to the broken window. "I got the second box for you. You can keep the prize if you like. I hope it's a good one."
Goodnight, Pennywise, she thought to herself, turning away.
It was nearly dark when Ruth arrived home. She is thankful that Jordan is not there. Her red '83 Escort is missing from the driveway. Ruth can only assume Jordan was called into work despite the woman's hangover. The woman is a grouch and easily offended, so tips will be minimal. Jordan doesn't take pride in anything and is useless around the house. Ruth and Jonathan are the ones having to clean. Most of the time Jordan works during the day from morning until late afternoon. She rarely works the evening shift. When she does, though, Ruth rejoices.
Oh, thank you, Jesus! No Jordan today! Ruth inwardly hollers in excitement.
Her joyous attitude died when she remembered Jonathan is strictly a daytime worker. He's home already. His brown '79 Ford F-150 4x4 sat out in the drive. Ruth groans as she eyed the truck from a fair distance. She recalls sitting in there on rare occasions listening to the radio. She would have a blank cassette tape ready to record songs she liked. Jonathan had told a workmate of his what Ruth was doing as it got on his nerves. They gave him a cassette player for Ruth to have. It was a nice gesture. Mostly it was for Ruth to entertain herself without disturbing Jonathan.
Ruth remembers late one night recording a Simon Garfunkel song she had heard numerous times. Jonathan was not particularly pleased since she did accidentally wake him up. He let Ruth record her song but was punished afterward. She shakes her head at the memory. There were other times she had gone into his truck to record a song, but Ruth made sure he was awake.
She heaves a breath from her lungs then started forwards. Might as well face the devil, she thought.
Upon entering her home, Ruth was greeted by a savory scent. Her mouth instantly watered that she licks her lips. She glances around the hall, noticing the place is clean. Ruth shut her eyes, dread overwhelming her. Ruth knew Jonathan was going to stay home, but she didn't expect him to do housework. She had been gone all day and didn't even consider helping. Jonathan is going to end up hitting her or much worse.
Ruth gulps then started towards the kitchen. She peered around the corner to see Jonathan cooking. She noticed he was making a boxed skillet dinner of hamburger and pasta. Ruth cocked her head, her brows knit and lightly frowns.
"It was payday," Jonathan's deep smooth voice announces.
She regards him, slightly nervous from the agitated undertone. Ruth isn't sure what to say except stare.
"Where were you today, Amber?"
Oh, crap. Jonathan hardly ever calls Ruth by her first name. She's in trouble for sure.
Ruth opens her mouth to answer when he glances over at her. His gunmetal grey eyes land on the books in her arm.
"Went to the library, I see."
"Yes, sir," Ruth quickly answers. She probably could have left off the 'sir' part. Except, Ruth knew it was better to regard him as such.
"And the drug store."
"Yes, I needed a few things."
Jonathan turns towards her, his body wiry and toned as he crossed his arms. "Like what?"
"Girl things."
His gaze hardens, catching sight of the white bandages on her arms.
"What happened to your arms?"
Ruth gulps, her eyes never leaving his. "Tripped and fell."
Jonathan's glare softens, catching Ruth nervous tone. "You ran into the lummox, didn't you?"
She blinks, I called him the same thing! Well, not to his face. To Mr. Keene, though.
Ruth fights a smirk. If there's one thing she and Jonathan have in common, it's their vocabulary. Jonathan is smart, but he does occasionally lack common sense like Ruth. Her crossing the street without looking is a good example. She and Jonathan would occasionally have exchanges like this about Henry Bowers and Company. Ruth gets joy out of it sometimes, but not always.
"Yes, I ran into the lummox," Ruth replies, relaxing a little.
"Along the dingus'?" His lips tighten and jaw squares.
"Yes, them, too. Well, two out of the three at least. The Tall Dingus wasn't there."
Jonathan pauses, giving her a once over. "Yeah, I know. His mother just reported him missing."
Ruth's breath catches in her throat. "I had a feeling he would be. A lot of kids have been going missing lately. From what Victor told me that Patrick went running after someone down in the barrens."
He looks at her, frowning and brows knit. "Have you told anyone else about what you know?"
"Not yet. I'll talk with the chief about what I know. That is if Victor, along with Henry and Belch, steps forward first."
"Good girl," Jonathan approvingly nods. "How did you escape, though? Did you patch yourself up?"
With a heavy breath and licking her lips, Ruth prepared herself for the outburst. "I drew attention."
Jonathan stares at her. His features slowly hardening and muscles flexed. "How?"
"I egged Henry into cutting me."
He started forward, his muscles flexing still. "Excuse me?"
"I wasn't going to let him physically hurt me, Jonathan. I know better." Ruth defends.
She noticed his arms drop and is getting closer. "Do you?"
"I didn't give him the openings he wanted. Someone intervened, not physically, but called out. Henry was close enough where I was only able to elbow him in the chest and stomach. For added effect, I kneed him in the groin. Nothing serious."
Jonathan stops right in front of her now. He glares at her from the length of his nose, watching for any sign of Ruth lying to him. "That's all? Did you do anything to the other two?"
"I punched Belch in the nose. Not too hard to break it only enough to stun him. Victor got a right hook to his jaw, no serious damage there either. My objective was to stun them enough to escape."
He regards her then. Jonathan seemed impressed, awed even. "Is that why you've been going to the library a lot lately? You're studying up on self-defense techniques?"
Ruth's breath stalled for a moment. "Yes," she half fibbed.
"Because of those idiot boys, right?"
"Yes," she replied.
Jonathan takes a step back, watching her. He rose an arm.
Ruth doesn't flinch but prepared herself for the hit. What she wasn't expecting was a weight landing on the top of her head. She stares at Jonathan, showing no signs of confusion or relief. He pats her.
"Why didn't you just say so? I could have shown you a few things instead of you having to consult a book. Although, you do have a damn good memory. Better than me, actually."
He cradles her head a moment longer then ruffles her hair. She doesn't move away, just lets him. If Ruth did, Jonathan would have done something then. When he removed his hand, Jonathan went back to the stove to stir dinner. Ruth steadily breathes without him looking.
"Now answer how you patched yourself up."
Well, here goes. "Despite my insistence, someone helped me."
Jonathan turned sharply, his eyes going wild. "What was that?"
"I don't know who it was. Just some sharp dressed guy passing through town. I kept telling him to back off and that I didn't need any help. He refused to listen. Apparently, when I fell, I had a piece of glass in my arm. I guess they were studying to be a doctor or something and wanted some real-world practice."
Ruth was quick to formulate a lie, well, partial. Jonathan won't know. Besides, she needed to protect Stan from getting hurt. Ruth refused Mike's help because she couldn't be too trusting him of him yet. Lending her library book to Mike is testing waters. Stan, though, Ruth has some faith in him. He looks to be the person to observe and take a settled approach. Although, she did deduce Stan having a secret crush on her. So, can she trust him enough?
Jonathan regards Ruth with a deep scowl, watching her for deceit. "Is that the truth?"
"It's the truth," she answers quickly without faltering.
"You sure? You're not lying to me to protect someone, are you?"
Ruth had to pause for a moment. She had to be careful how to answer as it could cause problems. "Yes, I'm sure. I'm not lying either."
He watched her analytically, reading her body language, and deciphering her tone. Jonathan approvingly nods. "Good girl. You know what will happen if you were, right?"
The slimy tone he had made Ruth inwardly cringe. The thought of him touching her made Ruth's skin crawl. Even a chill ran down her back. Thankfully, it wasn't the cold prickle one from earlier.
"I do," she replies with a gulp.
Jonathan then smiles, showing off his white teeth. There is a devious glint in his eyes as he stared at her.
"Good girl. Now go on to the dining room. I'll bring you dinner."
Ruth swallows, "Yes, sir."
She backs into the hall, refusing to remove her gaze off him. That smile of his is of a predator. He watched her every move like the little lamb she is. With another gulp, Ruth turned the corner and headed for the dining room. She glances over her shoulder at him, making sure he wasn't approaching. Thankfully, he wasn't. Ruth was a foot away when he called to her.
"Ruthie, darling," he silkily coos.
Ruth pauses, shuddering from the name. Please, don't call me that.
She backs up and looks in on him, hiding her anxiety. "Yes, Jonathan?"
He shook his head, his predatory grin, never leaving. "No, you call me 'daddy,' Ruthie. I don't want to be called sir, let alone my name. I am your father, anyway."
Ruth stares, helpless. His last comment made her think differently. They barely look alike. He has dark blonde hair with maybe a tinge of red. He's more tan than her or Jordan and has no freckles. She's not going to respond to that bit of information, though. She saw him slowly reach for his belt buckle, taunting her for an answer.
"Yes, daddy," Ruth replies quickly.
His grin widens, "Good girl, Ruthie. Go on now. Go sit down."
"Yes, daddy," Ruth nodded and walked away.
Once she was out of sight, her eyes shut with a shudder. Oh, God, help me!
The silence is tense and unnerving now. Ruth and Jonathan's little exchange earlier is far from her mind. They sat at the dinner table together. Ruth doesn't want to look at him, only her plate. Ruth ate the majority of her meal. She is starting to grow extremely uncomfortable with Jonathan occasionally watching her. His hungry gaze on her has Ruth on edge. She fully expects him to pounce on her any minute now. The last time they ate together like this, it was after Jonathan had pinned her to the bed several months ago.
Ruth gulps harshly when she felt his eyes on her again. She wanted to glance up at him but knew what would greet her. Instead, Ruth kept her gaze on the plate. Please stop looking at me you fucking pig!
After a moment, his gaze leaves her and disturbs the silence. "I got you something from the store. I left it for you on your bed."
She harshly gulps, curious yet sickened at what he could have gotten her. Ruth can hope it is something like cookies or candy. If it's another sexy item, Ruth will snap. The thought of taking one of the steak knives came to mind and just stab the son of a bitch over and over until she felt satisfied. Or maybe, gut Jonathan like the filthy swine that he is. Shoot, Ruth could prepare him like a stuffed hog ready for a luau like the Hawaiians do.
Now that will be a gratifying sight. Ruth can imagine herself standing by the firepit, rotating the skewer to roast the man to perfection. Ruth can even smell the smoky applewood with a little citrus like an orange on his cooking flesh. Ruth inwardly grins at the thought.
There was a loud bang, snapping Ruth out of her dark world.
"What do you say when your loving daddy brings you something?" Jonathan angrily questioned.
Ruth doesn't blink. She's trying to keep herself from letting a tear fall. "Thank you, daddy."
"Thank you. That wasn't so hard, was it?"
"No," she responds robotically.
"Is it anything like the cookies you left in the cabinet?" Ruth asked suddenly, stiffening.
She doesn't know why she asked him that. He did leave it for her anyway. Who else would? Jordan certainly wouldn't.
Jonathan glances up from his plate and over at Ruth. "What cookies?"
She flinches then snaps a confused glare at him. "The chocolate chip cookies that were in the cabinet. There are in a vintage tin box."
Jonathan gaps at Ruth, brows rising. "You should know we don't keep chocolate anything around here. Your mother is allergic, and I hate chocolate chip cookies."
Ruth glares at him then, alarmed. "You, I don't understand."
"What don't you understand?"
"You didn't leave a box of cookies for me in the top cabinet on the bottom shelf next to the stove?"
Jonathan stares at her then as if Ruth grew a second head. "No. I didn't get you any cookies. If I did, I would have put them in your room where your mother won't get a hold of them."
Ruth began to freak. She could have sworn the box was from him. Wait, no, he's lying! I'll show him!
She got up from the table and rushed to the kitchen. "I'll prove it! It should still be up there!"
"Ruth for god's sake! Get your crazy ass back here!" Jonathan shouts, following her.
"I'll show you!" She hollered, storming in the kitchen and flung the cabinet door open.
Ruth stares for a long moment. Her eyes remain fixed on the shelf and mouth gaping. The spot where the box should be is empty. Nothing is there. Jonathan came into the room and saw her stunned expression. He cautiously approached her, hands in front of him like a shield. Once Jonathan came to Ruth's side, then glances up at the spot she was staring. He saw nothing either.
"Where is your box of cookies you're talking about?" He questions with forced softness.
"They, they should be right here! Right here!" She points and touches the spot.
Her mind is spinning. Is she going crazy? No, Ruth can't be going crazy. The taste of them lingered still somehow. Every crunch of baked wheat and semi-sweet piece of chocolate. It was real! But how could they be there one day and gone the next? Maybe Jordan got them for her. Yeah, that has to be it! Jordan told her to go look for something to eat. She got them for her and took the box.
"I think you're going crazy, Ruthie," Jonathan replies in her ear.
Ruth is quick to step back. She shouldn't have done that, though. "I'm not going crazy, Jonathan!"
He glares hard at her. "Ruthie," Jonathan warns.
"Jordan! She, she must have gotten them for me and took back the box!"
"Alright, let's go," Jonathan says, grabbing Ruth by the arm and guides her out of the room.
"I'm not crazy! I'll ask her when she gets home!"
"You are not asking her anything, Amber! Your mother wouldn't get you cookies, let alone a package of underwear! Now shut the fuck up!"
"Then, where did the cookies come from, huh? They were real, Jonathan. I can still taste them for fuck's sake! Why won't you_?"
Ruth doesn't get to finish. Jonathan backhands Ruth right in the mouth, instantly busting her lip. Ruth's head snaps harshly to the right, almost cracking her neck. She lightly shudders with shallow breaths and tries her best not to cry. She is so confused yet furious.
"That right there was real," Jonathan seethed.
She refused to look at him. If Ruth did, she would give away the hatred and fury in her eyes.
"I don't care if you ate air or these cookies you obviously imagined. You don't need that shit anyway. It will make you fat. What am I talking about? You're skinny as a beanpole. Maybe you should fatten yourself up on these magic pastries of yours. If you talk back to me like that again, I will do a whole lot worse than backhand you. And you call me, daddy. Do you understand me?"
Ruth opens her mouth to answer only to wince. Her lip is swollen, and she can taste blood. She bit the inside of her cheek when Jonathan hit her. When Ruth didn't respond within another second, he grabs her hair. Jonathan yanked harshly that Ruth yelps. Her cry only gave him satisfaction. He grins, tugging harder. Ruth doesn't utter a sound this time. Instead, she clenched her teeth to keep from calling out.
His grin vanished when Ruth defied to cry. Jonathan's lips curl into a sneer.
"Bravery can go so far, Ruthie."
Ruth remained silent. She wanted to snip back but knew the consequences. At this point, Jonathan is her ticking time bomb. Either she will end up brutally killing him with an ordinary steak knife, or he has a freak accident at the job site. Ruth prays for a horrible death at work. The other option, herself. She can't take it much longer.
"Look at me," he demands.
With a shuddering breath, Ruth slowly regards him. Her hazel eyes brimmed with unshed tears.
"You will not talk back to me like that ever again. Are we clear?"
"Yes, daddy," Ruth responds. She stares at him, poker-faced.
"If you want to go around town that is fine by me, but you don't talk to anyone. Rather it's Henry Bowers or some fucking looney toon in a sharp-dressed suit, you don't talk. Do you understand that?"
"Yes, daddy."
"And so help me, Amber Ruth Greyson, if I find out you lied about anything you will be in the ground somewhere six feet under. Clear?"
Ruth gulps, "Yes, daddy."
"Good. For now on, if you want to go into town, you do your chores first. I'll leave a list of the things that need to be done. I even want to know what time you completed your tasks. I certainly don't want to spend my entire day cleaning this house because your useless slut mother won't touch a duster, let alone a mop. Curfew is now six o'clock, on the dot. If your ass is a minute late, I will use my thick leather belt on you. Do we have an understanding?"
Her heart jumps to her throat, "Yes, daddy."
Jonathan grins evilly. He lets go of her hair then slowly descends from her neck to her chest. His hand rest in between the valley of her developing swells. They are about the size of oranges now. A week or so ago, they were slightly bigger than apples. Ruth is maturing early and is terrified of growing up. All thanks to this pig. Get your hand off me, you fucking swine!
"Getting close. You're growing up a little quicker than the other girls. Daddy is so proud."
Jonathan lightly pats her chest, then steps back, grinning.
"Magic cookies? Ha, you need to get out more often, Ruthie darling."
Ruth inwardly cringes.
"Better yet, you should get some friends. Oh, wait, that's right. You can't have any because we told everybody to keep away from you. You are nothing but valued property, baby girl. Nobody wants a good for nothing little shit like you for a friend." He laughs.
He leaves Ruth standing by her bedroom door, shuddering. Go to hell! She enunciates seething.
She watched him leave before turning to her bedroom. Ruth can see the present Jonathan got her on the bed. It's a small box, much too small to be sweets. Ruth is not in the least bit curious about what it is. She silently shuts her door with a faint click following. From within her room and Jonathan out of earshot, the box bangs against the wall then Ruth's muffled wails break the silence.