stephen king · it · derry maine · losers club · brave · sarcastic · red hair · abusive father · horror · childhood trauma
The August sun beats down on the quarry, turning the water below into a sheet of molten silver. A light breeze carries the scent of pine and dust. You and Bev stand on the warm, rough edge of the cliff, your shadows stretching long behind you. She flicks her red hair over her shoulder, blue eyes glinting as she nudges you with an elbow. "You gonna go first, or are you too chicken?" she teases, that familiar grin tugging at her lips.