chapter three
the female of the species
☼ ☽
Her blood was boiling and not just because the sun was scorching the light hairs on her arms. She was mad, as usual, but still. Here was the deal with Jill Samson: she was always mad. It didn't matter if she was smoking her way through a pack of cigarettes at dawn or if she was just simply watching a movie, she was always angry. She knew she had always felt in extremes—anger being her most prominent emotion. It was like there was this electric current coursing through her veins and infecting her bloodstream as it spread its disease. And when the electricity would become too much, she'd feel it bottle up in her throat. At first, it'd feel like an itch in the back of her throat, so she'd cough once. Then twice. Then three times, but the itch persisted. It'd spread and consume her until she could barely breathe, and that was when she'd just want to scream. And that was exactly how Jill Samson felt that humid summer day—like she wanted to scream until her throat bled.
The air felt heavy in her lungs as Jill drew in a long breath of smoke, letting it burn her lungs for a moment before she released the chemicals into the atmosphere and handed the cigarette off to Beverly. She leaned against the brick wall of some building in some alleyway near the pharmacy in town. The bricks felt hot against her bare skin, but it didn't bother her—Jill was always fueled with fire, so a little heat was nothing. Plus, her mind was somewhere else.
You see, Jill had always overthought everything. She just couldn't help it; she doubted everything, sometimes even her own emotions. And today, she couldn't tear her mind from the dream she had just last night. It was odd. Although, most of her dreams were weird (Hell, she once had a dream about a spider with a baby head chasing her), but this one particular dream had resonated with her.
The dream was of Beverly (which wasn't too out of the ordinary), but this time the redhead haunted Jill. She couldn't get the picture of Beverly's sinister smile out of her head. And the way she had talked to her. She spoke as though she wasn't even Beverly. Then she just slit her throat and let the blood gush out of the wound. But even that wasn't the part that made the hairs on the back of Jill's neck stand on edge. No, the part that made Jill's heart stop was the way the dream didn't feel like a dream at all but actually a cruel reality she was forced to endure. That was what terrified Jill.
Beverly glanced at the brunette out of the corner of her eye. She noticed the small crease above her brow had deepened—a tip to know if Jill Samson was nuclear or just tepid. By the looks of it, Jill was a wildfire. Beverly studied her face for a second longer before she leaned into her and offered her the lit cigarette dangling between her fingers. "What are you thinking about?" she asked with furrowed brows.
Jill blinked and took in a sharp breath of air. She couldn't exactly tell Beverly she had a dream (or whatever the fuck it was) about her dying, so in true Jill Samson style, she pushed her thoughts away and slapped on a grin. She shrugged and took the cigarette from Beverly's grasp. "Do you think jellyfish ever get sad that there aren't any peanut butter fish?" she questioned, her eyes wide as she took a drag of the cigarette and awaited the ginger's response.
"You're insane," Beverly snorted, shaking her head.
Jill shrugged. "Am I?" She looked at the redhead with squinted eyes. "Or are you just below sane like . . . uh . . . un-sane?"
The red-haired girl stared into eyes of brown with a half-grin on her face. She didn't know whether to burst out laughing or roll her eyes. "Now that—" she took the cigarette from Jill's grasp and brought it to her lips— "is not a word." She inhaled the toxic chemicals and blew out a puff of gray smoke.
"But every word was once not a word until someone made it a word," the brunette stated, a smug smirk on her face.
Beverly rolled her eyes. "I hate you."
Jill plucked the cigarette from Beverly's hands. "I hate your face."
"Whatever," Beverly huffed with a hint of amusement laced in her words. Her face fell when she remembered why the two of them had gone into town that day. She needed tampons or pads or whatever girls used to stop the incessant bleeding from seeping through her jean shorts. She knew every girl went through it, but she didn't actually believe it was going to happen to her, so when it did, it totally freaked her out. Now, she wanted nothing more than to crawl into a ball and cry. "Um . . . can we just get those things now?"
"Tampons?" Jill asked, bluntly.
Bev rolled her eyes. "Yes, you fucker," she said with a chuckle, but her stomach swarmed with uneasy nerves. "Now can we go?"
"After you princess," Jill replied, stretching out her hand as if to say 'go ahead'.
Beverly scowled. "Shut up."
Jill only laughed and put out the cigarette.
The two of them rounded the corner, walking in sync with each other as they entered the small pharmacy at the end of the street. The jingle of a bell greeted them as they stepped inside the store and Jill ushered the redhead to follow her into the feminine hygiene aisle. She stretched out her arms at all the different types of pads and tampons, then went to work on finding the ones she normally bought, but apparently that was proving harder than she thought.
Beverly grabbed the first box she saw and shoved them in her friend's direction. "What about these?" she asked, tapping the box with the pads of her fingers.
Jill glanced at them and shook her head. "Nope, those are the pads without any flaps. They suck."
The redhead groaned. "Ugh, save me from the stupid side effects of being a woman!" she whined, shoving the box back on the shelf. Her eyes snapped back to the shelves as she stared at them, confusion written on her face.
Jill tried to focus her attention on the matter at hand, but her mind drifted elsewhere. As soon as Beverly had said 'save me' Jill couldn't help but to think back to the night before. Photo-Beverly . . . the blood . . . the fear . . . it all came rushing back as soon as those words opened the floodgates. She wanted to forget. Fuck, she wanted to never think about it again. But it kept coming back. Even last night, she awoke many times from her sleep because she kept having the same dream of Photo-Beverly killing herself. Over and over and over. It was like a sick joke that she had been left out on. And worst of all, it hadn't felt like a dream. But it had to be . . . right?
She tapped the pads of her fingers on a box of tampons, trying to focus her attention on the beat, but she just kept thinking of the blood. All the blood. She shut her eyes and breathed out through her nose. "You know," Jill muttered, finally finding her voice, although, it was hoarse and scratchy, "I had a weird dream last night. Well, at least, I think it was a dream. It didn't feel like one but it . . . it was just weird."
"What was it about?" Beverly asked, her eyes still trained on the shelves.
"There was this photo I took of . . . someone and I was looking at it but then the person started to smile and then," Jill ignored the lump on her throat, "they just slit their own throat and bled everywhere." Her gaze snapped to the ground as soon as she felt tears pricking her eyes. She quickly wiped the salty liquid and cleared her throat.
"It sounds like one of those hallucinations you have when you're drugged up," Beverly mused, tapping her finger on her chin. She was clearly elsewhere.
"Yeah."
At the fall of her voice, Beverly finally glanced at Jill out of the corner of her eye. The brunette stood unusually stiff with her head angled toward the floor as she toyed with the fabric of her overalls. Beverly puffed out her cheeks and blew out air. She pulled on the girl's sleeve to get her attention. When brown met blue, Beverly reassured, "I'm sure it doesn't mean anything, Jill."
Jill managed a small smile. "Yeah, I hope so. It was fucking freaky. Maybe I took some acid and forgot about it."
"Uh-huh, sure," the redhead snorted. "As if you'd take acid."
"What?" Jill asked, dumbfounded. She was grinning now. "I'd totally do LSD if I had any."
"Jillian Samson, should I be concerned?"
"No more than you normally are," Jill said with a shrug, the grin on her face morphing into an amused half-smile. Her head was clear again with Beverly Marsh on her mind.
Beverly rolled her eyes, then turned back to the large selection of feminine products. "Okay, which ones do you think are best?"
"Well, it depends," Jill said with a shrug. "Have you bled a lot? Or like medium? Or—"
The redhead's eyes grew as wide as saucers. "Okay!" she interrupted, her voice panicked. She felt the urge to cover her ears, but her hands stayed glued to her sides. She so did not want to deal with being a woman especially when it had to do with the blood part. But she couldn't just free-bleed. So she sucked it up and grabbed a random box. "I think these should be good enough."
Jill tilted her head and nodded. This brought a smile to Beverly's face as she complacently turned on her heels and walked around the aisle. But she quickly stopped in her tracks when she caught sight of Greta Keene strolling down the other aisle.
"Shit!" the redhead quietly swore, holding out a hand so Jill wouldn't walk out into the crossfire.
"What? What the hell just happened?" Jill questioned, trying to peer around the corner but Beverly's head was in the way.
"Greta happened," Beverly spat, squeezing her eyes closed. "She's in the other aisle."
"Oh," Jill said, a hint of amusement laced in her voice. "I'm not afraid of that stubby nosed bitch." She was ready to punch something. She was always ready. And if that something just so happened to be Greta Keene's face, then so be it.
Beverly snapped her eyes open. "No, you promised no more fights. Let this one go."
Jill hesitated for a second. She could listen to Beverly or she could punch Greta in the face. She rather liked the latter. But she could tell Beverly wasn't in the mood. She groaned and nodded her head in acceptance. "Fine . . . I can still punch her in my head, right?"
That made Beverly smile. "Yeah, sure, go wild."
Jill pretended as if she was punching someone, making sound effects to add to the scene. "Oh, look, Greta's face looks like a pancake now," she mused, punching the air even more.
Beverly let out this laugh.
The ding of the entrance door sounded throughout the pharmacy, catching the two girls' attention as they turned their heads just in time to see a blonde ponytail exit the store. "And there she goes," Jill observed, bitterly. "I bet she's off to find people to torture or maybe she's waiting out there until we come out and then she'll jump us."
Beverly shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips. "Your imagination never ceases to amaze me."
"Why thank you."
The two girls laughed and rounded the corner into another aisle so they could finally get the hell out of this place. But as soon as they rounded the bend, they were immediately met with three boys standing in their way.
Stanley Uris, Eddie Kaspbrak, and of-fucking-course Bill Denbrough . . . no, scratch that . . . Stenchbrough stood in front of the two girls. Eddie looked in complete disarray with his hair windswept as he struggled to carry some medical supplies. Stan's eyes were wide, but he looked moderately unbothered. Then there was Bill. Bill fucking Denbrough looked completely perfect. Like he was some kind of boy wonder out of a movie or something. It was just like him, too. He always had to show up looking like Prince Charming whenever Jill wanted to hang out with Beverly.
Jill narrowed her eyes into darts. Fucking Stenchbrough, she thought, bitterly.
Beverly quickly hid the box of tampons behind her back. "Play nice," she whispered to the girl beside her.
"Do I really have to?" Jill groaned. "They're just so . . . ew." She didn't really mean all the boys. Sure, they were annoying, but no one would take Bill Denbrough's spot of Number One Most Hated Boy in Jill's mind.
Jill knew it was wrong to despise someone as much as she did Bill, but the brunette couldn't help the irritation which crawled up her skin every time she saw him. Her distaste for the boy had started years prior when Jill was smaller and less aware. Beverly and Bill had starred in a play together and much to the brunette's complaints, they shared a kiss. It was then as their lips met and a ruby blush feathered Beverly's freckled cheeks did Jill first feel her best friend drifting away from her. It was almost unrecognizable, but the more time Bill and Bev spent together for the play, the more Jill felt Bev slip out of her grasp.
He had come into their lives so suddenly like a tsunami and torn down everything the girls had built together. That was when Jill started referring to him as the sea.
You see, the thing about Jill Samson was that she liked to look at things the same way you might write a poem. Call her melodramatic, but she liked the way it made her shit life seem a lot less shittier. So she referred to herself as the sun because obviously she had enough rage in her to burn anything she touched, and she looked at Beverly as if she was the moon, mostly because she heard that the sun and moon could never truly collide unless during an eclipse. That was how she felt with Beverly. She was always so close yet never close enough. And then there was Bill. He was the sea because he always returned and ruined everything. And he was the thing between the sun and moon; the thing stopping them from colliding. So yeah, fuck the sea.
"Yuh—yuh—you guys okay?" Bill asked, trying to come off as nonchalantly as he could manage.
"We're fine," Beverly affirmed, glancing at Jill for support but the brunette was too busy glaring her coal eyes at the Denbrough boy. "What's wrong with you?"
"None of your business," Stan immediately spat.
Eddie uncomfortably grimaced, biting the inside of his cheeks. "There's a kid outside that looks like someone killed him," he rushed out, his eyes squeezed shut.
Bill had his eyes trained on Beverly, yet every few seconds he would glance at Jill and almost crumple under her intimidating dark gaze. He shrugged off her harsh demeanor and looked back to the redhead. "We need some su-su-su-supplies but we don't have enough money," he explained with a small shrug.
Jill glanced at Beverly and saw the empathetic look on her freckled face. She knew the redhead would want to help; she had always put others before herself. Which meant Jill would have to help, too. And not help just anyone. She had to help Bill Stenchbrough. Kill her.
"We'll help you," Beverly said, avoiding looking at Jill's perplexed face because she knew the brunette would object.
Jill whispered, "Do we really have to do this? You know I hate him. Plus, we could get in trouble with, you know, the law." If the girl was being honest, she didn't give two shits about getting in trouble with the law; she did, however, care about getting involved with Bill Denbrough.
Beverly turned her head to look at Jill, a small frown plastered on her face. She knew Jill hated Bill she just couldn't figure out why. Bill had always been kind to the two girls and even went out of his way to stutter a little hello when they passed each other in the hallways.
Beverly furrowed her brows. "Why do you have this vendetta against him?" she questioned. "Besides, when do you care about the law?"
"He's just—"
"A loser? Well," Beverly straightened her posture, "so are we. So let's help them and we can leave right after that. You can buy me that milkshake you owe me from yesterday."
Oh, right. Milkshakes. She had almost forgotten. So if they helped them, then they could get milkshakes and Bill would be nothing more than an afterthought. She liked that idea. "Deal." Jill stiffly grinned, linking her arm with Beverly's.
Beverly nodded, complacently as the two of them brushed passed the three boys to the checkout counter. Jill sent Bill a hard glare, looking him up and down as if he was the vilest thing to ever walk the planet. She inaudibly mouthed to him a 'fuck you' then carried on her way to the counter with a smug smirk on her face.
When the two girls approached the counter, they were immediately greeted with the smell of cigarette smoke wreaking off the middle-aged man's clothes and a hint of mint. Jill tore her attention from Bill to the man in front of her, and her mood plummeted even further.
Mr. Keene was quite honestly the most disgusting human being Jill Samson had ever met (excluding Stenchbrough). His hair was an ashy color, and swooped across his forehead like a toupee. His glasses were stained brass and covered his beady black eyes which seemed to wander to all the wrong places. And his smile. God, his smile was the worst. It was crooked and slithered onto his face anytime he saw a girl who wasn't his daughter walk into the pharmacy. It reminded her of the smile fake-Beverly gave her in her dream last night. Yuck.
The man glanced at the boys standing in the middle of the aisle, trying to pick up their supplies before he shifted his attention to the two girls peering up at him and gave them a smile. "Boys will be boys, right?" he commented, his voice groggy and gross.
"Right," Jill scoffed, squinted her eyes at him. "Boys will be boys—the phrase that excuses all the bullshit we as women have to put up with, and yet if we show the same behavior, all we get is a 'be more ladylike' or 'no one will want you if you keep acting like that.' But, yeah, sure, I guess boys will be boys."
The man blinked as Jill held his gaze. Maybe if she glared at him long enough, he'd burst into flames. At least then, he'd have a purpose.
Beverly sent her a look and nudged her with her elbow. Jill pursed her lips and shrugged in response. She had read once in a poem she forgot the name of that the female of the species were more deadly than the male, and if Jill could, she'd totally prove that notion right by killing Mr. Keene. He was such a perverted fuck. God, she hated him . . . but that wasn't a surprise. Jill Samson had enough hate in her heart to poison continents.
The redhead tore her gaze from Jill and innocently stared up at the man before her, making sure she looked as inferior as possible. "I like your glasses, Mr. Keene. You look just like Clark Kent," Beverly mused, a charming grin sliding onto her face. Jill, on the other hand, stayed silent, clenching her jaw to keep from letting her mouth ruin everything.
Mr. Keene chuckled, adjusting his glasses with a cheery smile. "I don't know about that."
Beverly flashed him another smile, leaning forward on the counter. "Can I try them?" she asked, tucking her hair behind her ear then twirling a long strand between her fingers.
Mr. Keene looked around the store for any watchers before looking back at the two girls (more specifically Beverly) and handing her his glasses. "Sure," he chuckled, and Jill nearly threw up her breakfast on him. What. A. Fucking. Pervert. She wanted to do so many screwed up things to him. She wanted to punch him. She wanted to scream in his face until he got the point that girls were not his to manipulate. She wanted to shove his stupid glasses down his throat and watch him choke on them. Because fuck him and all the people exactly like him.
Beverly took the glasses and slid them on her face, glancing up at the man. "What do you think?"
"Well, how about that?" Mr. Keene smirked, leaning forward on the counter. "You look just like Lois Lane."
Jill felt the fire burning in her chest and had to stop herself from telling the creepy man to back off her friend. Instead, she buried her harsh gaze and focused on the packs of cigarettes in front of her on the small stand. Oh boy, did she need a cig at that moment. Maybe even two or the whole box.
"Really?" Beverly questioned, flashing Mr. Keene another one of her infamous smirks. Mr. Keene nodded and Jill almost decked him for even looking at Beverly—an underage girl, might she add—like that. Beverly caught the frustration in Jill's face out of the corner of her eye and she knew if she didn't do something fast, the brunette would most likely punch Mr. Keene in the face.
"Here you go," Beverly spoke, acting as if she was handing him back his glasses, but in the process, she shot her hand forward and knocked over the stand on the counter. She closed her eyes tightly. She had to put on a believable show, right? So she did. "Oh shoot, I'm so sorry, Mr. Keene."
"It's fine." Mr. Keene brushed off the girl's apology with a smile before bending down to retrieve the fallen stand. As the middle-aged man was picking up the stand, Jill shot Beverly a small smirk and pocketed two boxes of cigarettes, handing one to the redhead. The two girls both looked behind them at the three boys. Beverly gave them a nod, letting them know it was their time to escape the store. The boys fumbled, running out of the store which made Beverly smile slightly and Jill roll her eyes at their stupidity.
Beverly quickly paid for her tampons and gave a hasty wave to Mr. Keene before the two girls exited the store as well. Jill breathed a sigh of relief, but dread quickly infiltrated her sense when she caught sight of the figure standing a little ways down the sidewalk. Bill Denbrough stood around the opening of an alleyway. Of course. She should have known she would never escape him.
He offered them a smile which made Jill's blood boil. He shoved a five-dollar bill toward Beverly, with a wobbly smile on his face. "Here—"
"Even Steven." Beverly refused the money and smirked, winking as she held up the cigarette pack.
Jill, on the other hand, stopped the Denbrough boy from stuffing the money back in his pocket and held out her hand for him to give it to her. "Pay up, Bud," she spat as Beverly gave her a disapproving look.
"Don't give me that look," Jill snapped, snatching the money from Bill. "How else am I supposed to buy you that milkshake?"
Jill glanced down at the money. "Five dollars? Did you expect to get anywhere with this?"
"I—" Bill stuttered, his eyes wide as he searched his brain for a response.
He didn't get to respond before Beverly glanced down the alleyway and caught a glimpse of the boy she and Jill had the pleasure of meeting the day before. Jill, however, barely remembered the encounter. "Ben from Soc class?" Beverly pondered to herself, trotting down the alleyway with Bill and Jill trailing behind her.
"Are you okay? That looks like it hurts," Beverly asked the boy, Ben. He looked much different from the day before as he slouched against a wall holding his wounded stomach.
Jill saw the wound on Ben's stomach and although she felt empathy for the boy, she couldn't stop the remark slipping passed her lips. "This is what I mean when I say boys are stupid," she said dryly.
Richie Tozier, who was quite possibly the most annoying boy Jill ever had the displeasure of meeting, stepped toward the two girls. His big frames covered half his face and left only enough room to see his oversized teeth. "Wanna' come a little closer?" he asked, a smirk on his face. "I can show you how stupid we can be."
Jill had hated Richie Tozier ever since he asked her to that dance and called her Judgy Jill for the rest of the school year when she rejected him. She scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest and rolling her eyes as she raised a brow. "Nice try, Tozier, but beaver isn't my type."
"I think it's that time of the month again, right boys?" Richie joked, holding his hand out for someone to give him a high five but nobody bothered to acknowledge the boy.
"Oh, Richie, I didn't know you were on your cycle," Jill spat, a small smirk finding its way to her face. "Do you need some tampons? I can go get you a few boxes if you're a heavy bleeder."
Richie opened his mouth to respond, but Bill interrupted him. "Thanks for all the help, Beverly," he shifted his eyes to the brunette, ". . . and Jill."
"It's no problem . . . but what happened?" Beverly asked, concern clear on her face as she stared at the wounded boy.
"I just fell," Ben responded, smiling at Beverly.
"Yeah, right into Henry Bowers," Richie butted in, his voice abrupt and breathy. He almost seemed like he was laughing, but it didn't reach his eyes.
"Shut it, R—R—Richie!" Bill shouted, clenching his fists and flicking his eyes toward Beverly.
"Why? It's the truth!" Richie defended.
Beverly stepped forward and asked the injured boy. "You sure they got the right stuff to fix you up?" she clicked her tongue, adding a wink in for good measure which only made the boy blush deeper.
"You know, weh—weh—we'll take care of him," Bill stated, locking gazes with Beverly as the two shared a smile. Jill felt an ache in her chest ignite and despair fill her. There was that look on Beverly's face again; the same look she had given him years ago; the same look that broke Jill's heart into a million and one pieces.
"Anyway we gotta' go but maybe we'll see you around," Beverly said, warmly. Jill joined her by her side, practically jumping out of her skin to leave the alleyway.
"Yeah, we're going to the Q—Q—Q—Quarry tomorrow around two o'clock if you guys wanna' come?" Bill asked, his eyes hopeful.
Before Jill could object and rush out of the alleyway, Beverly smiled and nodded. "We'll be there."
Jill's eyes widened as she snapped her head to look at Beverly. What the fuck. She had to spend more time with the boy she hated. That was just great. Jill was not looking forward to it at all.
Bill, on the other hand, looked relieved. Beverly gave him a small wave before the two girls turned on their heels and walked out of the alleyway.
The two remained walking down the sidewalk as Jill subtly glanced at Beverly. There was that look on Beverly's face again, a faint blush to her pale freckled cheeks and a small smile pressed to her rosy lips. The cause was obviously Bill Denbrough and that not only annoyed Jill but shattered her heart into a million pieces.
"Why do you have that look on your face?" Jill asked, already knowing the answer but hoping she was wrong.
Beverly furrowed her brows. "What look?"
"You know," Jill began, biting her lip, "the look you get when a boy calls you pretty."
"Oh," the redhead blinked, wondering why she felt the way her friend described, "I think you're reading too much into it."
There it was. Those words. Those same words Beverly had spoken to her just before she shared a kiss with Bill Denbrough. Those same words that had made her hopeful only to be torn down once the moon had kissed the sea and gotten consumed by his waves. Jill was wrapped around Bev's finger but Bev was wrapped up in the magnificent sea that had made her feel beautiful, something the sun could never do.
Jill knew the truth, and it was harsh. She knew she could never be good enough for someone like Beverly. How could an abandoned, hotheaded mess of a girl ever be worthy enough to be loved by someone like her? The thought seemed impossible to Jill and although she had tried to deny it, the returning sea who had stolen the moon from the sun once before had made the brunette realize they could never be.
Beverly glanced at her friend out of the corner of her eye, furrowing her brows when she saw the look on her face. "Jill." She stopped the brunette by placing her hands on her shoulders. "Are you okay?" she softly asked, searching the girl's face for the answers to all her questions, but her features stayed void.
The brunette peered up at her through her dark lashes, contemplating if she should just come out with it and confess, but she couldn't do that. After all, Jillian Samson was not an idiot and telling her best friend about her feelings would most definitely make her one.
"Yeah, I'm fine," Jill lied, plastering on a fake smile.
The redhead still didn't seem convinced but before she could question anything, Jill locked their arms together and began strolling down the sidewalk to the destination she had in mind. "Now, let's go get those milkshakes before dinner."
A soft smile lifted onto Beverly's fair face. "Chocolate?" she questioned, already knowing the girl's order.
"Obviously," Jill snorted, her grin widening. "And strawberry for you, peaches?"
"You know me so well, sunshine."
a/n: hi, this is cringy. i don't care. i still love them. please bear with me omfg i swear i'm going to try to finish up this book. thank you for reading!