Ｓｔｕｔｔｅｒ [ｂｉｌｌ ｄｅｎｂｒｏｕｇｈ ｘ ｒｅａｄｅｒ]

ᴄʀᴀᴢʏ ꜰᴜᴄᴋɪɴɢ ᴄʟᴏᴡɴ ʜᴏᴜꜱᴇ

Same clothes as the last chapter :)

♧♧♧

The soft clicking of a bike wheel still turning filled my ears. 

"Bill, you can't go in there!" Bev yelled. She shook her head, flailing her arms to make her point.

There was a moment of staring at the tall boy in front of the door. It was just silence. The birds weren't chirping. The only noises there were was our breathing.

"Look, you don't have to come with me. But what happens when another Georgie goes missing? Or another Betty Ripsom, or Edward Corcran? Or one of us? Are you just going to pretend it isn't happening like everybody else? Because I can't. Everyday, I go home, and see that Georgie isn't home. I see his clothes, his toys, his stupid stuffed animals, but he isn't. So walking into this house... it's easier than walking into my own."

He turned away, bringing his hands up to his eyes. I could only step forward, wrapping my arms around the boy. 

"Wow..." Richie said. For once, his voice was quiet.

"What?" A curious Ben asked.

"He didn't stutter once," Richie continued, looking at the ground.

I let my arms fall from around his body, listening to everybody's collective sighs. Only a moment passes before everybody follows him into the rickety old house, careful of loose boards on the stairs and their hands getting splinters. Until Stan spoke up,

"Wait! Um, shouldn't we have someone... keep watch?"

He quite obviously didn't want to go inside. I couldn't blame him, but I wanted to find Georgie just as much as the stutter himself.

"Who wants to s-s-stay here?" Bill asked, turning to face us. Everybody raised their hands, save for Bev and myself.

"Fuck," Richie mumbled out.

"Let's draw s-straws," Bill said, beginning to look around on the ground.

"I don't know if you've noticed, Einstein, but we aren't exactly in the Kaspbrak's kitchen. Where will we find any fucking straws?" Richie said, his tone sounding very matter-of-factly.

"We'll use these," Bill said, holding up a cluster of sticks. He began to walk to each one of us, letting us take a stick. When he finally got to me. He still his the size of the wood, until I let it fall into my opens. It was one of the longer ones. Furrowing my brows, I snapped it in half, letting the dry-rotted bark crumbled to my feet.

"What was that for?" Stan asked me. I turned towards him, opening my mouth to speak.

"I'm going in whether the stick likes it or not."

"Are you sure?"

"Whatever lives in here took Bill's little brother. It took Edward Corcran, and Betty Ripsom. It took the people of this town to the grave. I'm not letting that happen to someone I love," I said, my tone sharp and threatening.

"So yes, yes I am."

I let myself follow Eddie, Bill and Richie into the house. The floorboards creaked under our footsteps. I followed close to Eddie, who was something on my mind. Why was the asthmatic, hypochondriac of our close circle in this dusty house.

"I can't believe I pulled the short stick. You're lucky we're not measuring dicks," Richie said. I could tell he was trying to be funny, but not a single laugh escaped anybody's lips, not even his.

"Does it look like I have a dick, dumbass," I retorted quietly, looking cautiously around what I assumed to be the kitchen.

"I can smell it," Eddie mumbled, keeping his inhaler close to his mouth.