WOUNDS ♚ henry bowers [it]

s e v e n t e e n

Still in shock, tears continued to fall as I looked after Richie, watching his back disappear behind the trees. His words stung, and I felt like dying because of it. Being called a bitch by your own best friend, and them saying they never wanted to ever see or talk to you again—it hurt.

Henry's hand grabbed onto my forearm—tight, but not enough pressure that it'd leave a bruise—and began to drag me behind him. I followed like a statue, replaying Richie's words over again in my mind. I had completely forgotten about the six other kids that sat behind us, jaws hanging open.

When we got up to the hill, Victor and Belch were already there in the Trans Am, obviously they had been waiting for us. Vic quickly hopped in the back so that Henry could get in the front, which he did. He sat me in his lap, my back turned toward Belch, driving, so that I was looking out the window.

Belch and Victor stayed quiet, seeing how Henry was still clearly pissed and I still had tears dropping slowly out my eyes. Even though his jaw was still clenched and his breathing was uneasy, Henry wrapped one of his arms around my waist and pulled me closer to him. I leaned my head against his shoulder, closing my eyes as the tears died down. Henry's touch calmed me, and I think I did the same for him.

.  .  .  .  .

Belch stopped the car at my house, and I quickly reached up and got out of the car. I heard Henry get out and slam the door, then Belch and Vic drove off. Really happy to not see my mom's car parked in the garage, I opened the front door and walked inside, leaving it open for Henry to come inside.

Having already made up my mind in the car, I reached for the telephone. I had to talk to Richie, I just had to. Even if he didn't want to talk to me, I wanted to talk to him and I was determined to do just that. I couldn't loose my best friend, not over something like this.

"What are you doing?" Henry asked when he saw me begin to spin in Richie's home number.

"I have to talk to him," I mumbled under my breath, trying not to get Henry too upset. I knew from the moment I made up my mind that he wasn't going to like this.

"No, Taylor." Henry snatched the phone out of my grip and hung it back up. "He said he didn't want to talk to you, remember."

"Henry, I have to." I pleaded, reaching back for the phone, but Henry walked in front of it, blocking my path. "I know Richie, he didn't mean any of those things."

"He called you a bitch, Taylor!" He was getting pissed again.

I fell silent. "He was just mad," I let out quietly.

"So now you're standing up for him?!"

"No!" I said defensively.

"...I don't think you should ever talk to him again. He obviously doesn't want to talk to you." Henry spat out.

"You can't ask me to do that." I glared at him. "Richie was only pissed off, he'll come around eventually."

"I still don't think you should ever see him again." Henry shook his head.

"And why not?" I crossed my arms over my chest, waiting for him to answer. He didn't. Instead, he pursed his lips and looked away from me, bouncing his leg up and down. He was mad and didn't want to tell me why. That's when it hit me. "Are you... jealous?" By the way he grit his teeth, I took that as my answer. "Why would you ever be jealous of Richie?"

"'Cause the kid's obviously in love with you." He said in disgust. "That's why he got so mad, that's why he's always up your ass." He rolled his eyes and mumbled, "God, you're so blind sometimes Tay."

I stumbled a step back and thought. "So what, you think I like him too?"

"The way that you're acting right now honestly makes me think that you do." He growls out.

"He's my best friend, Henry!"

"Best friend you'd like to fuck," Henry assumed. His hands were clenched in fists, and his whole demeanor just screamed 'I'm-pissed-and-not-afraid-to-kick-someone's-ass'. "Just leave me the hell alone, Taylor." He pushed past me and started walking towards the door.

I ran after him. He wasn't getting off that easy, no way. "Henry, wait!" I called and grabbed onto him upper forearm. That's when he turned around and it all happened so fast. One minute I was standing and in the next few seconds his hands were on me, and I was falling down to the ground, hard. I hit the tile with a bang, falling on my ass. If I hadn't have known any better, I would've thought I had broken my tailbone.

When I looked up at him, he was first filled with shock, then regret flashed across him features and his cheeks heated up in guilt. "Taylor, I'm sorry." He choked out. I ignored him when he crouched down to help me up, and instead crawled up by myself. I gave him a hateful glance then stormed off up the stairs and to my room, slamming the door behind me and locking it.

It wasn't a few seconds after when I heard the stomp of his feet hitting the floor as he came up the stairs and to my room. "Taylor?" He reached for the handle and jiggled it with no avail. "Baby, please open the door." He sounded desperate, and it made my heart hurt. It's also the first time he ever called me 'baby', or any pet name really.

I shook those feelings away, I wasn't going to be that type of girl. The one that forgives the boy for everything. No, that wasn't me.

"Please?" I gave him the silent treatment, listening to his pleads from the other side of the door. He let out a sigh and I heard him slide down the door, making a quiet thud when his head hit the door, his back against it while he sat down on the carpeted hallway floor. "I knew this would happen..." Henry muttered, sounding so disappointed in himself.

My mind briefly flashed back to the other day when I stopped him from killing Butch, to when we were yelling at each other in the woods... to when Henry confessed that he's liked me all this time. During that conversation, he had said something about ending up hurting me in the end, the one person he truly cared about.

My heart clenched, this is what he meant. Physically. He didn't want to end up hurting me physically, but he knew he would at some point. It wasn't his fault though, I had to remember that. It's not Henry's fault his pathetic excuse of a father raised him the way he did. It's not Henry's fault he was raised not knowing what love truly felt like, nor how to show love toward another.

I acted out in a way I shouldn't have. I shouldn't have been angry with him and ran away, slamming the door on him. He didn't mean to throw me down, it was an accident. And he even tried to apologize for it. Henry Francis Bowers actually said sorry for something—I assume he's never said sorry for anything in his life, but he did for me.

Biting my bottom lip, I get out of bed and walk toward the door. After unlocking it, I hear Henry scramble to his feet and by the time I pulled the door open he was standing right there in front of me.

"Ta-" I didn't give him a chance to talk, because I leaned up and grabbed the back of his neck, pulling him down so that our lips met. After giving him a long, meaningful kiss, I pulled away.

"I forgive you, Henry. I know you didn't mean it." I watched his cheeks heat up at my words, and a small smile etch on his face. Henry leaned back down for another kiss.