Elusive Dreaming

Lost Causes-Henry Bowers

Lost Causes-Henry Bowers
Song:I Think I'm Okay-YungBlud,Travis Barker, Machine Gun Kelly
Warnings:Murder,Blood,Child Abuse, Acoholism, Mental Illness, Panic.

Some may say that love is a passion. Others may think it will never come. Although to no avail there you were tending wounds. Lashes across this boy's back.

Webster's Dictionary describes love as a noun meaning a strong affection for another. Arising out of kinship or personal ties.

You had no previous ties to the town before the summer of 1984. Glancing around with the summer's sun radiating off of the pavement.

Creating mirages at the bottom of hills. However, you couldn't know the people were the same. Everyone wanted a picket fence lifestyle.

Only struggling behind the cherry red doors. Benevolent children ran through the town without a parent on site. They were prey running from the hunters.

Reality had begun of the prey being middle school children. Running from a hunter eager to relieve pent-up aggression. Hunters don't always seek vengeance. Oftentimes it is the prey who do.

Yet the hunter had a reason. With the scarring evidence underneath his cut-off. He wore his dirty blonde hair in a mullet.

Baggy clothes were what he wanted to pull off. He was fronting for comfort. Because he himself wasn't a hunter. He was the prey behind closed doors. Dabbing alcohol against the wounds he couldn't reach was a way to let them heal.

They all think he is the bad boy with an attitude. Today you saw him as his true self. Wincing when the cold damp cotton touched the wound.

Wiping away any excess blood prevents it from running down his back. Late at night his father would come home from work to do the same routine.

Ask for dinner and a cold beer from his chair in front of the television. After he had some energy he would confront his son about the rumors around town.

Rumors were just that. His father never cared to be the talk of the town. He didn't want the family name to be up in flashing lights or on the big screen. A newspaper written for the locals was damn near enough.

Homophobic and an ideal version of a man. You knew since his wife left he was lonely. You kept your mouth shut as if you never knew.

To him you were just tutoring the kid in your class with bad grades. Yet you were trying to guide him in the right direction. He had confirmed your suspicion. His father, the chief of police, would beat his son.

Breaking several laws and rules. Always getting away with it, sweeping the dust bunnies underneath the living room rug.

Watching mortified for the sake of your peers' well being. It clicked in your head why the coping skills never worked. Why the therapy was pointless.

Because medication healed the pain but nothing could cover the scars littering his body.

"Please go away, I am a lost cause after all." Henry Bowers the town of Derry Maine's biggest bully was sobbing telling you to go away gently.

However you disobeyed him, insecurity was Henry's strong point. He viewed himself as a lost cause because of his father.

Henry was the talk of the town before the children went kissing. Only after you moved here did they disappear.

Therefore your name was associated with the death count racking up like a millionaire.

That day you sat with him after he told you to "fuck off." His words are exactly quoted. Instead of letting his anger get to you.

You sit by him and let him lay on your lap. His fingers fidgeting while he cries himself to sleep. With the calming feeling of you running your fingers through his hair.

Next time this happened he fell asleep in your arms. Sobbing while he listened to your heartbeat. His favorite sound was now the sound of your heartbeat.

The sound calmed him like his mother's used to when he was a mere infant. Feeling embarrassed by the fact he needed you more than ever.

He didn't want drugs or sex. He never wanted to parade you around town. He needed you because he needed to figure out he wasn't a lost cause.

As the summer flew by he was getting better until his father had beaten him in front of his friends.

Instead of cleaning his gun as he asked Henry to do. Henry was shooting bottles with it outside with his friends

. August summer heat was blazing and he was furious. Inside of his mind were the words "you're a lost cause," playing on repeat through his head as his father shot the gun at his feet.

His friends left for Belch's car he saw a red balloon tied to his mailbox. Cursing himself for becoming intrigued by the floating rubber.

As he opened the mail box inside was a package. Ripping past the paper to find the knife he had lost. Taking it from his father at the beginning of summer only to lose it that day too.

He admired the blade in the light as the sunlight gleamed off of the silver. Henry found himself being taken inside by a once he couldn’t control.

All of the years of intrusive thoughts and pent up rage walked him inside.

To where his father was resting. He pulled the blade back inside of the knife glancing at the television.

They chanted "Kill him Henry! Kill them all!" Henry became a kibe wire the moment he held the switchblade up to his father's neck and clicked the blade.

Watching as the darkness had taken over his mind. The knife protruded into his father's neck while blood sprayed everywhere.

He knew he was in Belch Huggins car with his two best friends strapped in the backseat, their necks slit and eyes begging to gloss over.

Next was the Well House on Neibolt Street. That's where the Losers were. Killing his envious enemies. His rage became consumed by possession.

Henry fell into the well only escaping through the water system that broke his fall. He found himself covered in blood and mud.

He was cold and wet yet he was taking the old backwards to your house. You had just gotten home from a week at your aunt's house in Vermont.

Dreadfully unpacking your bags when you heard the taps of pebbles being thrown at your window.

Each pebble missing therefore it wouldn't break your window. You looked outside to see him. You knew the time had come and he had broken.

The only way to fix him was to call the police and have him sent away. You grabbed your phone and headed into your parents bedroom. Locking yourself in their walk-in closet.

It had plenty of space to hide and your mother had a Chanel heirloom known as a small panic room.

You weren't expecting this to be normal yet you knew he would go home. As you ran you saw him move closer to your house. You didn't know where he could be.

You called the police explaining that they needed to check the Bowers's residence as well as your home. You had a feeling this wasn't your Henry.

You had been correct and you were to stay on the line with the operator until the police got to your house and his.

The lady on the other line tried to calm you down. At this point you were scared and hyperventilating.

Concerned for your safety with a door that couldn't be opened with a battering ram.

Still scared you as you knew he would try anything to get you to come out. Maybe after all he was a lost cause.

Published:May27/28th,2023
Word Count: 1299