chapter seventeen
the bitter taste of honey
☼ ☽
No living, breathing creature can exist sanely for long without an escape from reality; no live organism is capable of living in a world without dreams. It's why the human brain is so keen on horror movies. It's a feeling of emotional regulation. When you watch a horror movie, you are in control of the situation. Nothing bad can happen to you from behind a screen. It's a nightmare happening before your very eyes, but it can't touch you. There is no way it can hurt you and that entices the human brain . . . which overpowers the feeling of fear. It distracts you from reality. It's a nightmare that ends.
The Well House on Neibolt street was the exception.
It was a nightmare in itself like any other thing depicted in horror . . . except its hauntings were continuous. The Well House was eternal. It was not sane. It was built without kindness. Its floorboards were nailed together with force, not a gentle touch. It was never meant to be lived in nor cared for; it was only meant to be feared.
But the Well House was different from the horror movies Jill Samson loved to watch. It was a monster with skin and bones and a face like any other sane creature, but it was not what it seemed. Where other creatures slept, the Well House laid awake at night and watched the streets for its prey. It was always hungry, its stomach growling for another warm body to sink its teeth into and devour. It fed off of the fear and pain of Derry's townspeople. There was no safe with the Well House still standing tall; the screams of the forgotten stayed trapped inside the creaky floorboards, and it would stay that way until someone brave enough dared to step past the threshold and welcome the screams.
The Losers' Club, though not brave enough on their own, dared to be the first to challenge the house. Each of them knew the monster awaiting them and the risks they were taking, but this was just something they had to do. This was their monster; their personal horror movie that they couldn't escape until they put an end to it. And each of them was willing to risk the chance of being swallowed whole by the monster if it meant they could save one of their own and put an end to the horror.
Jill Samson was definitely not the bravest of the bunch. She wasn't born brave or strong, she was born to fight. Her blood flowed with grit and fire and steel. Maybe it wasn't the life she would have chosen, but it was what she knew how to do. It was what she knew best. It was all she could do. And she was the first to dismount her bike and throw it onto the street before she marched up to the Well House and glared at its pale skin, beckoning for it to stare back at her.
The other six boys dismounted their bikes and piled into the yard covered in dead, yellow grass almost the consistency of hay. Bill stepped right up beside Jill and stared at the side of her strained face before he glanced over his shoulder and nodded at the other boys. Then he caught sight of two metal poles with spikes on the ends hidden in the yellow grass, and went for them.
"Guys, spikes," Bill muttered as he picked up the two metal poles and put them together to make a double spiked pole. Jill looked at him and pursed her lips. She didn't know if that would be enough to take down It. She worried it wouldn't be.
The rest of the group began looking for more weapons on the ground because they had so conveniently forgotten to grab any before they came, despite Jill and Bill instructing them to do so. Well . . . except for Mike. Mike was smart enough to bring along the gun that he said he used for killing sheep at his work. Jill didn't need to search for a weapon either. She had grabbed a sharp knife before she left Stan's house to go retrieve Mike. She tightened her grip around the knife and clenched her jaw.
But the other boys weren't as prepared. Eddie removed his fanny pack and threw it aside before he resumed searching for a weapon. Bill quickly stopped him in his search and handed him the scissors he had pocketed earlier. Eddie clutched them in his grasp and looked to Stan who seemed to be frozen in place, his face withered with fear. And Ben, well, Ben seemed to be too inside his own head to notice anything happening around him. Then there was Richie, who grabbed a beer bottle and smashed it against the stairs, causing everyone to turn to look at him.
Richie looked down at the beer bottle and shrugged. "Maybe not," he muttered as he threw it aside.
Bill sighed and stood up with the pole attached to his backpack. He moved past the other preteens and walked up the creaky stairs, glancing over his shoulder to gesture to the others to follow him. Jill pursed her lips and joined him at the top of the stairs. The two of them shared a look before they both pushed open the withered front door, watching as it creaked open and revealed the inside of the monster.
Jill sighed, shaking her head. "Well . . . welcome back to Hell," she bitterly muttered as she stepped inside the monster's mouth. But as soon as her foot pressed against the withered floorboards, she began to feel every pain It had inflicted on her. Her throat felt strained and sore like a noose wrapped around her neck, and she had to fight the urge to yelp out in pain.
"Stan?" Ben suddenly muttered in a hushed tone, causing everyone to glance over to see Stan standing in the doorway.
Stan looked at each of them, his face growing paler by the second. He showed no sign of moving. He just stood there as pale as a ghost with his arms glued to his sides and his feet frozen to the floor. Jill's heart swelled in her chest at the sight. She knew what he was feeling. Hell, she thought she might bend over and hurl any second. She wasn't sure if she could calm his senses, especially since hers were in sensory overload.
But Bill beat her to it. "Stuh—Stan, we all have to go," he said, his voice calm and collected almost like silk. He always had the right words; a silver tongue if you will. "Beverly was right. If wuh—we split up like last time, that clown will kuh—kill us one by one. But if we stick together, all of us, we'll win. I pruh—promise."
Jill nodded. "Bill's right," she muttered, the words leaving a weird taste on her tongue. Everyone stared at her with confusion in their wide eyes. She merely shrugged at their questioning looks. Bill was right. She wasn't going to deny that. Besides, this wasn't about her ego, this was about Beverly. "We were all together when we hurt it. We can hurt it again. We can kill it."
Stan stared at her for a while, searching her eyes for any sign of deceit. He was looking for a chance to run; something to urge him to get the fuck out of there, but he only saw her pleading for him to step past the threshold and join the group. And after another second flew by, he finally did step over the threshold to stand by Jill's side. With that, the group followed Bill through the house, weaving through hallways and passing rooms which smelled of decay, until they reached a closed door. Bill glanced at the rest of the group before he pushed open the door, revealing a staircase leading to the basement.
"Luh—Last time, It trapped Richie inside a ruh—room so I went to go find some—something to pry the door open, but I found the wuh—wuh—well," Bill explained as his eyes ticked to meet Jill's gaze. "I knuh—know that's where It lives. I just know it." A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he turned back to the staircase and began to walk down the creaky steps. The other Losers followed suit, holding their breaths as the fumes of rot wafted into their faces.
Jill hopped off the last step and looked at the well. "Is there any way to get down there?" she asked Bill as she pointed the tip of her knife at the well. Her nerves were getting the best of her, eating away at her flesh as the time ticked by without the knowledge of what had become of Beverly Marsh. It almost made her want to scream or cry or do anything other than sit there trying to act fine. Because she wasn't fine. Beverly Marsh could have very well been dead, and Jill wasn't sure what she'd do if that were true.
"We'll fuh—find a way," Bill reassured, smiling at her slightly.
Jill nodded then tore her gaze from Bill and glanced at the other preteens. "Start looking for something to get us down there, guys," she ordered firmly.
Bill laughed softly, but it mostly just sounded like he was puffing air through his nose. "See? We make a pruh—pretty good team, don't we?" he asked, his voice soft.
The corners of Jill's lips twitched. "Don't let it go to your head, Denbrough," she muttered as she raised a brow.
Bill only smiled wider. "Wouldn't druh—dream of it, Samson," he said as he put a hand on her shoulder before he left her side and began searching the basement for something useful.
Jill sighed and closed her eyes to try and calm herself down, but the stars didn't surface in the darkness and she only felt alone. She just needed to find Beverly. If she didn't, she thought she might explode into flames. So she quickly flung her eyes open and shook her head of the feelings trying to pry at her brain. She then walked over to the well and peered over the edge. Darkness stared back at her.
Was this the Well House's stomach? It had to be. This was the waystation between the living and the dead; it was where the house converted people into fuel. It's victims had to be rotting down there. They just had to be. It even smelled like it. And Jill wondered what that would make the Losers' Club if they found a way into the stomach. Would the monster digest them too?
Richie came up beside Jill and peered over the edge of the well. "Hey, Eddie, you got a quarter?" he asked, calling over his shoulder to the Kaspbrak boy.
Eddie made a face and shook his head. "I wouldn't want to make a wish in that fucking thing," he spat, his nose scrunched in disgust.
As the two boys exchanged a look, Ben approached the well and peered over the edge as well. His face was plagued with doubt and fear, and he looked as if he might puke if someone shook him. He wet his lips and cupped his hands over his mouth. "Beverly?" he yelled into the well, his voice echoing.
Jill looked at him with her brows raised. "Dude, she can't hear you from here," she bitterly muttered. Ben only looked at her with wide brown eyes. That made her feel like shit, and then she realized she was being a bitch for no reason. She just wanted to find Beverly already. Sue her. "We'll find her, Ben. It's okay." She tried giving him a small smile to try and make up for her attitude, and Ben did smile back, but then he walked away and left Jill with Richie.
A snort sounded beside her. "Fun fact, your initials are B and J so you guys would be BJ and you know what that means," Richie said in regards to Jill and Bev's first initials, as he shoved his glasses up the slope of his nose. "Am I a genius or am I a genius?" He held up his hand and gestured for Jill to give him a high-five.
Jill gave him a blank look and slapped his hand away. She knew he was just trying to take her mind off of things, but she wasn't in the fucking mood. "Hey, genius, is there any way I can discontinue this friendship?" she asked, her voice bitter and sharp like the blade clasped in her hand.
Richie opened his mouth to retort but someone else beat him to it. "Hey, I found a rope!" Mike said as he held up a lengthy rope that had been laying on the floor.
Bill immediately approached the Hanlon boy and took the rope from him. He glanced at the well and walked over to it before he attempted to secure the rope to the pulley hanging above the well. A second later it was secured, and Richie did his part by throwing the rope down the well. Bill quickly stepped up and grabbed the rope before he stepped off the edge of the well and began to climb down the rope. He quietly grunted as he descended into the well, then he stopped only a few feet down when he seemed to notice something. He quickly climbed into what appeared to be a big hole in the wall, a passageway, and disappeared. A second later, he popped his head out of the hole and whipped his head to look at the awaiting Losers.
"There's a hole! I thuh—think it leads to the buh—bottom!" Bill claimed as he waved for the others to join him.
The Losers' Club glanced at each other before Eddie hesitantly grabbed a hold of the rope and began his descent into the passageway. Richie went next, claiming he had to follow Eddie just in case he got the chance to kick him off the rope. Nobody laughed at his joke. The others quickly followed after him until it was just Jill and Mike left. Jill inhaled sharply before she put the knife between her teeth then grabbed onto the rope and slowly descended into the well. The boys grabbed onto her legs and pulled her into the passageway, and she slumped against the wall. She took the knife out of her mouth and threw the rope back. She was about to give Mike the cue to start his descent, but before she could open her mouth, a loud scream sounded from above them.
"Mike!" Jill shrieked out. Her heart accelerated as she tried searching for any sign of the boy. The others raced to her side, trying to stick their heads out of the passageway to see what was going on. They all screamed for their friend, but he didn't answer.
"Mike, whuh—what's going on?" Bill yelled, his voice strained. His only response was the deafening silence.
A second later, a figure approached the edge of the well and peered at the preteens. Jill had to blink a few times to figure out who was standing above them, and once her vision focused, she saw Henry Bowers looking down at them with blood dripping down his face. He gave them an eerie grin. Jill didn't know if the blood was Mike's or another one of Henry's victims. Her heart pounded in her ears at the thought.
"We're next," Richie shrieked as he slapped Jill's arm. But as soon as those words left his lips, Henry gave the preteens once last unnerving look before he grabbed the rope and began to pull it up.
"No, no, no! Grab it!" Stanley immediately yelped.
"Get the rope! Get the rope!" Eddie cried.
Jill tried to reach for the rope but before she could secure her grip around it, it was pulled out of her reach. Henry laughed at her attempt and threw the rope onto the ground before he disappeared from their sight. The others cried out in protest, and Bill claimed he had to get up there, but he didn't move from his spot. Jill was thinking the same thing. She was the only one with an easily accessible weapon, and she was the tallest so it would have been easier for her to climb to the top of the well. She didn't know if Mike was alive or if that was his blood painting Henry's face, but she was willing to risk that chance.
"Move out of the way," Jill grumbled to Bill who was blocking her access to the stones she could use to climb. She secured the knife between her teeth and tried scrambling to her feet so it would be easier to jump and hope for the best.
Bill looked at her, his brows furrowed. "Jill—"
"Fucking move!" Jill spat out, her voice muffled by the knife clenched between her teeth.
And at her words, Bill quickly shuffled out of the way, giving her the access she needed to climb the well. She pushed away the fear bubbling in her chest and took the chance. Her hands clasped the stones and she dug the toes of her Converse into the crevices to ensure she wouldn't plummet to her death. Then she began to climb, hoping her time spent rock climbing as a kid would pay off. She almost made it to the top when her foot slipped, causing her to falter, but she quickly caught herself and pulled her body over the edge of the well. She sat on the floor and leaned against the well as she breathed out a puff of air and took the knife out from between her teeth.
Jill blinked herself out of her trance and fixated her eyes on the scene before her. Henry Bowers had Mike pinned to the ground with Mike's gun pressed against his skull. Brief relief flooded her when she realized Mike was still alive, but she didn't dare let herself dwell on that. She tightened her grip around the knife in her hand before she quickly scrambled to her feet and trudged right up behind Henry. She grabbed the collar of his shirt with one hand and pressed the tip of the knife against his neck with the other.
"If you even so much as move, I'll plunge this thing into your fucking neck, Bowers!" Jill seethed as she pressed the blade harder against his skin, causing blood to seep from the small scratch. It wasn't enough to kill him, but rather just enough to warn him.
Henry swallowed loudly but he didn't release his grip on Mike. He glanced over his shoulder and looked Jill dead in the eyes. "You, bitch," he scoffed. "You don't have it in you."
The anger in Jill's veins set her skin on fire. She felt a scream bubbling in her throat as his eyes clouded over and she thought of all the ways she could destroy Henry Bowers and leave him cowering in a corner with his tail between his legs. But then she wasn't thinking anymore . . . she was doing. And in one swift motion, Jill flashed her hand out and plunged the knife into Henry's leg. There was a squelching sound as the blade broke through his flesh and punctured his leg; blood seeped from the wound, soaking his clothes. Only then did Jill pull the knife from his leg and wipe the blood on the blade off onto her blue track shorts; it gave the fabric a magenta tint.
Henry cried out and clasped his hands around leg to prevent it from bleeding, but the blood only coated his hands and leaked from the cut more. "What the fuck?" he gasped as he glanced between his wounded leg and the girl standing before him with a knife gripped in her hand.
"Next time it's your fucking throat," Jill spat through gritted teeth as she clenched her hand into a fist and tightened her grip around the knife in her other hand.
Henry winced, "You wouldn't." He tightened his grip around his leg as he struggled to stand to his feet. He glanced at her, baring his teeth at her, but there was this look in his eye that sent chills down Jill's spine. His eyes almost appeared vacant . . . like he was just a vessel for some greater vice.
"But I would," Jill bit back. Her eyes drifted to his nose which still hadn't healed from the last time the two found themselves in a fight, and she grinned. "I see your nose healed horribly. How's it feel looking like Picasso's shit?" She drifted her gaze to his ear or rather half of his ear, considering she had ripped off a chunk of it at the beginning of the summer. She grinned even wider at the sight. "And . . . your ear is . . . well . . . atrocious. Maybe you're more of a Van Gogh bitch then, huh? Oh well, absolutely hideous either way."
Henry's face fell into a scowl. "You are a stupid, worthless, manipulative, psycho bitch—"
"You are a man," Jill cut him off, her voice as sharp as the blade she held. "You are an average, lazy, boring, cowardly, woman-fearing man. You are nothing. You are shit."
Her words seemed to hit Henry like a slap in the face, and he didn't seem too pleased. The tips of his ears grew red as the scowl on his face deepened. He stepped forward and grabbed the collar of Jill's blue tank top in his hands as he slammed her against the wall. The impact caused her to drop the knife, and she tried to push him off her to reach the weapon, but her attempts were useless.
Henry chuckled at her attempts to escape his grasp. Jill only scowled at him and attempted to knee him in the balls, but he was quicker and managed to pin her legs to the wall with his knee. "Go on, Jill. Try to prove you're the hero . . . but you're not," he muttered into her ear, his breath wafting into her face and making her gag. "It told me who you are. I know who you are. You're crazy . . . just like your mom. You don't want anyone to know that though, right? But It does and so do I. No one will want you when they learn the truth. Nobody will ever want you." He smirked then shoved her against the wall before he took a few steps away from her and chuckled at her shaken state.
But something snapped in Jill at his words. She wasn't sure if it was the alcohol messing with her head, but she felt something shift inside of her and then everything went dark. She couldn't see anything. The entire world just faded into darkness. And then the darkness spread. It spread and spread and spread to every part of her, poisoning her bloodstream and swallowing her whole. It spread until all she felt was darkness and numbness like she was floating in his black hole without a way of escape.
Then she heard someone laugh, and the anger came rushing back until it was all she could feel. And as the anger spread, she lunged for the person, her hand clenched into a fist.
Jill bellowed out many yells as her fist connected with someone's face. She could feel the bones in their face connect with her knuckles, causing her skin to split, but she didn't care. She barely felt the pain as she continued to punch the person. She just felt this anger and the need to release it. So she just kept punching even when her hand began to ache. She brought her fist to their face again, this time the impact snapped their nose into a grotesque curve, and she heard them groan in response.
Violence begets violence, and Jill knew that well. She had been chewed up and spit out for many years like she was nothing more than a cog in the wheel. Girls that had been treated like that knew when to bare their teeth. They knew how lethal their bites could be and they used that to their advantage. Because, in all truth, it was no surprise that if you gave a girl (one filled to the brim with hate and pain) a gun, she would figure out a way to use it. Jill Samson had figured out the paradox many years ago, now she was just itching to aim and fire.
All those years of pain and hate had led up to that very moment in the Well House. Now, she wouldn't sit silently and let the world gnaw away at her skin. She was born to fight, not because she was brave but because she had been forced to fend for herself. And it was all finally coming to an end, because now this was different. This was how Jill Samson killed someone, with her bare hands and a wildfire burning inside of her, setting her heart into flames and turning it to ash.
But then something extinguished her fire before it could spread even more.
Someone came up behind her and wrapped their two chilled hands around her waist, pulling her off the person she had been hitting. They encircled her in their cold embrace, holding her against their chest as she tried to escape their grasp. She continued to fight against them, but they held on and whispered calming words into her ear. Their words managed to seep past her anger, slowly calming her heart rate. A second later, the darkness faded away and she could finally see again. But as soon as she welcomed her sight, she broke out into sobs which consumed her and convulsed throughout her body.
Jill didn't know why she was crying. Maybe it was too much at once. Maybe her emotions had skyrocketed and sent her into sensory overload. She didn't care to figure out the reason, she just kept crying.
She heard the person holding her against their chest say something to her, but she couldn't make out the words. She blinked a few times to clear her vision before she glanced at the person, only to realize it was Mike Hanlon who had her wrapped in his embrace . . . but he wasn't looking at her. His eyes were trained on something in front of them, and she could have sworn she saw fear weaved into his features.
"Mike?" Jill questioned, weakly. Still, he did not look at her, and Jill turned her head in the direction of where he was staring.
Laying before the two preteens was Henry Bowers groveling on the ground. Jill trailed her eyes over his body, and she realized he had been on the receiving end of her wrath. His face was covered in fresh blood, oozing from his nose, and seeping past his lips. His clothes were stained with blood and dirt, and his pale skin was painted with cuts and bruises. His lip was busted and bruised, and he would probably have a swollen black eye in the morning. He resembled a corpse; the smell of fresh blood, and rotting decay from the well only intensified that notion.
Henry inhaled sharply, his breathing strained and weak. He slowly glared up at the two preteens with a vacant look in his dark eyes. "I'm going to fucking kill you," he threatened through weak pants as he choked on the blood in his throat.
Jill's heart pounded in her ears and she tensed against Mike as she watched Henry stumble to his feet. Henry whipped his pocket knife out of his pocket and slumped his head to the side as a wide, almost inhuman grin slithered across his face. He dove for them, but Mike was quicker. Mike pushed Jill out of the way and bellowed out a yell, furiously charging toward Henry. He shoved Henry as hard as he could, the impact causing the blond boy to stumble back toward the well. Henry tried to catch his balance, but before he could even register what was happening, he smacked against the well and tumbled over the edge. His screams echoed in the air as the darkness swallowed him whole and he plummeted to the depths of the well.
The world seemed to stop as Henry's screams silenced and the air became thick, almost hard to breathe. Jill blinked a few times to prevent herself from bursting into tears again. She swallowed the fear in her throat and glanced up to see Mike looking at her with an unreadable look in his eyes. A small sob escaped her lips as Jill met his gaze. He had saved her. He had fucking saved her . . . and stopped her from killing someone with her bare hands.
Jill clambered to her feet and fell into Mike, wrapping her arms around him. "Thank you," she mumbled as she tightened her grip around him. He slowly wrapped his arms around her, hugging her back. "I almost killed him. I almost—"
"You wouldn't have," Mike cut her off before she could finish the thought. His voice was kind, reassuring. "It's okay. We're okay."
Jill only nodded. She didn't have any words. She wasn't sure if she could find any to describe how she felt anyway. She was just grateful. So fucking grateful.
"Hey! We just watched Bowers become roadkill! What the fuck happened up there, guys?" Richie suddenly yelled, his voice echoing throughout the well. He began yelling for them to answer him, breaking the silence, causing Jill to groan and detach herself from Mike.
Jill approached the well and leaned over the side. "We're fine, dumbass!" she yelled back to him. Mike came up beside her and waved at the boys to show he, too, was alive and well . . . for the most part.
Mike threw the rope over the well again, then glanced at Jill. "You should go first just in case," he offered, smiling slightly at her.
Jill furrowed her brows and stared at him. Just in case, he had said. Just in case what? In case It came out of the shadows and attacked them? Mike was willing to die for her, but she wouldn't have that. He had already saved her once; it was her turn to do the same. "No, you go first," she said as she stubbornly crossed her arms over her chest.
Mike just stared at her for a moment before he sighed and rested the rest of his ammo on the ledge of the well. He must have known Jill wouldn't give up without a fight, and he was right. He reached to grab the rope and began to climb down it, but his foot hit his ammo, causing it to fall down the well.
"Shit," Mike swore under his breath as he watched the ammo disappear into the darkness. Jill bit her lip and sighed, disappointment flooding her senses. Now, they were a weapon short.
The Hanlon boy huffed out a sigh then continued climbing down the rope toward the small hole in the well. Jill watched as he safely disappeared inside the hole before she retrieved the knife that she had dropped in her fight with Bowers. She returned back to the well and secured the knife between her teeth, then climbed down the rope so she could scramble into the hole. The boys pulled her in safely and she collapsed against the stone, closing her eyes and breathing heavily. She took the knife in her hand again and licked her lips. The taste of blood immediately coated her tongue and she realized the blood from her hand must have transferred onto her tongue. But the weird thing was that it tasted like honey. Huh . . . blood tasted like honey when revenge was involved.
As soon as Jill fluttered open her eyes, she saw Richie Tozier staring at her with a scowl written across his face. He shoved her shoulder and huffed out a scoff. "You're a dumbass for doing that shit," he grumbled through gritted teeth.
Jill rubbed her shoulder as she glared at him. "And you're a little bitch . . . in general," she spat as she shoved him back.
The scowl on Richie's face deepened. "Ass!"
Jill narrowed her eyes into slits. "Cunt!" she bit out as she flipped him off.
"Will you two shut the fuck up?" Eddie groaned from beside them. Anger and fear were weaved into his features, causing him to appear much older than he actually was. "There's a killer clown on the loose and it smells like ass down here! There are more pressing issues than your stupid fight!"
Jill raised a brow and pursed her lips. "You smell like ass," she muttered, her voice monotonous. "That's the more pressing issue." Richie snorted at Jill's words and attempted to give her a high-five, but she slapped his hand away.
Eddie only gave her this look. "Jill—"
"Guys, where's Stan?" Ben suddenly asked, cutting off all other conversations.
With wide eyes, the group turned their heads to the end of the tunnel, finding it empty without Stanley Uris in sight. Fuck. He must have gone off down the tunnel and gotten lost. There was no way of knowing what horrors awaited him or what monsters lurked in the shadows. But there was no time for pondering over what awaited them, they had to find Stanley before he was swallowed whole by the Well House. They all quickly moved through the tunnel, screaming Stan's name as they picked up the pace. Soon, the ground below them became wet, and the stench of rotting decay burned their lungs as the tunnel ended and they made it into a water-filled corridor.
"Oh, shit. Greywater," Eddie observed, plugging his nose and gagging as he carefully entered the corridor.
Jill grabbed Eddie's wrist and pointed the flashlight in his hand at the darkness surrounding them. Eddie gave a whine of protest but she ignored him and continued flashing the light around the corridor. Her eyes focused on every corner, trying to make out the figure of the Uris boy, but she found nothing. "Stan!" she yelled, her voice strained.
The silence was her only answer.
The Samson girl grunted in frustration and detached her hand from around Eddie's wrist before she moved further into the corridor, water splashing around her legs. She didn't care about that though. Honestly, she couldn't care less about the shit water she was standing in, she just wanted to find Stan. She couldn't lose him and Beverly. That was too much. She was fucking sick of losing people. She wouldn't have it. Besides, Stan was the first to make her feel welcome in the group, and she needed him to stick around. He was her friend. Stanley Uris was her friend, and she fucking needed him.
"We have to find him!" Jill expressed, her breathing constricted. She felt as though she might scream.
Bill nodded in agreement and pointed at the end of the corridor which was split into two paths. "Whuh—Which way?" he questioned, gesturing between the paths.
Jill groaned. They could split up but then they'd end up in an even bigger mess than they were already in. Or they could take a chance and run down one path. Or—
A distressed scream sounded from in the distance, coming from the left pathway. The preteens all shared a look of fright before they took off down the left path, screaming Stan's name. Jill's heart hammered in her ears and a queasy feeling erupted in her stomach as she ran. She wasn't sure if she was going to puke or cry. Either choice seemed like horrible ideas. But she still kept running until the group stumbled upon a door where they heard muffled cries coming from.
Bill reached the door first. "We're coming, man!" he yelled as he struggled to push the door open.
The rest of the group joined him at the door and helped push it open. Jill's muscles began to feel like melted butter as she pressed her palms against the door and pushed. Her feet slipped on the wet ground, but she remained standing and helped the others push the door. One final forceful push and the door slid open, allowing the Losers enough room to slip through and enter the room where they believed their friend had disappeared.
"Stanley! Stan!" Eddie yelped as he flashed his flashlight around the room. He went around the corner with the others on his heels and pointed the light at the wall. Then he pointed it at the ground and revealed some kind of distorted creature chewing on Stan's face.
Screams erupted amongst the group as they stared at the creature in shock and fear. But Jill only stared, frozen in shock. She had been in this position before and she hadn't done anything. She couldn't do that now. The fire boiling in her veins, thawed her frozen state, allowing her enough leverage to push past her fight or flight bullshit. She dropped the knife and grabbed a hold of the spear secured to Bill's backpack, releasing it from its hold and tightening her grip around the cold metal.
"Jill, don't!" Bill warned, already anticipating her next move, but Jill couldn't hear him.
Jill took one look at the creature and charged at it. "Get away from him, you succubus bitch!" she yelled as she swung the pole at the thing which she could only identify as one of It's many faces.
The creature or rather It quickly detached its jaws from around Stan's face and slithered away, hissing at Jill. But Jill didn't care. With her heart pounding in her ears, she continued to swing at the thing until it disappeared around the corner. A second later, It or Pennywise or whatever the fuck it was appeared in the creature's place, flashing its blood-stained teeth in an eerie grin. Jill stepped over Stan's body, guarding him as she bellowed out a yell at It. The creature only grinned wider before it disappeared around the corner, letting the room fall into silence.
When Jill was positive It was gone, she slumped her shoulders and dropped the weapon, ignoring the sound of it clambering against the floor. She looked at Stan, who had his knees pressed against his chest as he rocked himself back and forth and cried. The creature had punctured his face, leaving small wounds surrounding his face. Blood seeped from the cuts, leaking down his cheeks and flowing down his neck. Jill dropped to the ground and reached for him, but he shot back and flinched away from her as the rest of the group joined the two.
"Stan," Mike mumbled softly, his eyes full of concern as he kneeled down next to the boy.
Ben wet his lips and tried to put his hand on Stan's shoulder. Stan only pushed him away. "Are you okay?" the Hanscom boy asked, his voice strained.
Stan only cried harder and shook his head.
Bill's face hardened. "It's okay," he murmured.
Stanley shook his head even more. "You left me!" he yelled as he shoved a finger at Bill, then glanced at the rest of the group. "You took me into Neibolt! You're not my friends! You made me go into Neibolt!"
"Stanley, I'm sorry," Eddie muttered weakly. Richie nodded in agreement.
But Stan wasn't having it. The tears wouldn't stop flowing over his cheeks. One after the other, they spilled down his cheeks, mixing with the blood from the cuts surrounding his face. "You made me go into Neibolt! This is your fault," he cried, choking on the words flowing from his lips.
Jill's heart swelled in her chest. "Stan, I'm so sorry," she murmured as a few tears leaked from her eyes. She didn't know when she had begun to cry, but the tears just kept coming as she stared at her wounded friend. "We would never let anything happen to you. We're here for you. You know we wouldn't do that to you." She attempted to reach out for him again, and this time he didn't flinch away. She rubbed her hand up and down his back as she shushed him. "Just breathe. Think of the birds and the turtle. Think of them and everything will be okay. We can fucking beat this."
Stanley squeezed his eyes shut and breathed carefully for a few seconds. He fluttered open his eyes and glanced at Jill before he nodded. Jill smiled at him and helped him stand to his feet. She was about to tell the group they had to get the hell out of there quick and go find Beverly before it was too late, but someone else interrupted her attempt.
"Where's Bill?" Eddie asked as he looked around in the darkness, waving his flashlight in the air.
Jill looked around too, then groaned. "Fuck," she muttered. She detached from Stan's side and looked around, finding another passageway that Bill probably had gone down. Something in her gut told her that was where he had headed, and so she listened. "Come on, guys." She picked up the spear before she gestured for the rest of the group to follow her as she took off down the passageway, hot on Bill's trail.
The group ran through the path, trudging through dirty water which made their skin itch. They rounded a corner, finding themselves in another water-filled path, but this one was worse. The water went up to their knees, and its odor was more intense. Jill could only describe it as the stench of a corpse. She had never smelt a dead body, but she knew this was the exact pungent odor carcasses exuded.
"Bill!" Eddie yelped as he rounded the corner. He inhaled sharply, preparing to call out to his friend again, but his foot caught on something hidden in the water and he smacked the ground. The greywater drenched his clothes, painting his skin with dark mud.
His cries caused the rest of the group to stop in their tracks and look at him in concern. Richie was the first to immediately bend down to try and pull Eddie out of the water. "Come on. Get out of there, dude. That's greywater," he said as he tugged at the collar of Eddie's shirt.
Eddie struggled to stand to his feet, but then he let out a gasp and fell back into the water, frantically sifting through it. "Wait, wait, wait. Oh, my god. Where's my fucking flashlight?!" he cried out. He splashed through the water, desperately trying to find his flashlight, but as he sifted through the water, something else was uncovered.
Mutilated heads resurfaced in the greywater, bobbing up and down. Only then did Jill realize the water was filled with body parts belonging to other kids like them. These were the ones that came before them. This was the sea of the forgotten, and they were standing in the middle of it, risking the chance of becoming another one of those corpses. The thought made the group let out small screams before they started to yell for Eddie to stand up.
"Eddie!" Richie yelped as he tugged at Eddie's shirt, pulling him to his feet. "Come on, let's get the fuck out of here! Come on!"
The two boys pushed past the rest of the group, causing all the others to fall into place like dominos. They all took off down the path, trying to rid themselves of the image of the mutilated heads. But it was no use. The image would be ingrained into their brains until time took them to the weeds.
The six of them ran faster through the water, picking up their pace when they caught sight of a light coming from the end of the tunnel. They burst through the tunnel, piling into a larger room in the shape of a dome. Their feet padded against the dry ground as they came to a halt and blinked a few times for their eyes to adjust to the dim light. Jill was the first to step further into the dome, her shoes squishing against the ground as she walked. She didn't know what to think as her heart flatlined. She analyzed the area, trying to understand that the scene before her was real and not some sick nightmare.
It was then she realized sometimes the nightmares in horror movies could be made into reality, and she wished with every bone in her body that this was just a dream. But it wasn't. She knew that. This was her reality. The nightmares, the monsters were real. And that was the hard part. Because everything's a lot tougher when it's real. That's when you choke. Jill Samson hoped she would be the exception, but her throat seemed to already be caving in on itself, and the horrors before her left the bitter taste of honey on her tongue.
That's when you choke, Jill repeated in her head like a mantra as she stared at the unbelievable horrors before her. That's when you choke. When it's real . . . and she knew this was real.
a/n: when i say i don't know what brotp i love the most i mean it. like richie & jill? iconic gay besties. stan & jill? soft besties. bill & jill? they'd be unstoppable. i wish i had written more of a friendship for ben, mike, and eddie with jill, but they'd all be the best group of besties in high school & i know it. jill would 100% murder anyone who mistreated mike & she'd constantly make snide remarks toward eddie's mom. jill would end the bitch. && we all know jill would find a soft girl/boy for ben & be his matchmaker 🥺!
also i love the fight scenes with jill. she's my little badass pls.
also also one more chapter y'all. i will cry.
thanks for reading!