superstitious, bill denbrough

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER 5
ooov.
TREATING A WOUNDED BOY

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I STROLLED TROUGH the town of Derry, eyes littering across the wanders of people that crossed by. Glances were sent my way as the eyes of people landed on the smudges of fresh dirt on the tinted white shirt. But I didn't bother to care, only looking for the group of boys I saw before. Just as I rode across the street, three boys running into a local pharmacy caught my eyes. That must be them.

Peddling over, I stood in front of the store while looking though the window. Stan, Eddie, and Bill. Where's the rest? As I searched for a wounded Ben, and the sarcastic Richie, I didn't seem to catch the attention. Looking around, I hopped off my bike, walking around while searching for the two boys. Sudden murmurs made my head snap down an alleyway, seeing the two boys from before.

Quickly heading down, their attention soon gazed over to me as I got closer and closer. "Where the hell were you? What happened to your shirt? Decide to go rolling in shit with your cat?"

I rolled my eyes at Richie, leaning down to Ben. "How you feeling?" As my eyes searched the tattered and bloodied shirt, Ben still seemed to smile through it all. It was as if his smile was contagious, the boys face flushed under the attention.

"I think I'm doing better," he nearly squeaked out.

I patted his shoulder, heading towards Richie. "I saw where Bill and the rest are. Are they getting-"

"Is he dead yet?"

I quickly turned around to be met with the three boys, panting while holding boxes of medical supplies. Eddie had paced himself over to Ben, slightly shaking in the process as he tried peeling off the tape on the gauze. My eyes lingered over to Bill, his gaze already set on me. As if caught, he darted his attention to Ben.

I could feel the slight jump in the pit of my stomach as I, too, looked back to Ben. Eddie had pulled his shirt up, revealing a gash that marked a capitalized 'H'. I nearly rolled my eyes as I finally caught the evidence for my answer before. It was Bowers. I knew it. How much of an asshole could a boy be?

"What the hell took you guys so long?" Richie questioned.

"It was only a couple minutes, Richie," Stan stated, his voice small and silent.

"Who d-did this t-to you?" Bill asked Ben, a heavy sigh escaping my lips.

"It was Henry and his band of douches,' I stated, beating Ben to the punch. "I encountered one of them. Patrick Hockstetter, to be exact. Explains the smudges on my shirt." I pointed out the stains from before, remembering his presence on top of me as I shuttered in disgust. Thank god Frankie was there. I could've ended up like Ben.