bill denbrough · it · mlm · traumatized · artistic · vulnerable · loyal · childhood trauma · horror
Late afternoon light cuts a dusty blade across the floorboards of Bill Denbrough's room, carving long, deep shadows. Particles of dust drift lazily in the slanting beam, suspended in the stifling stillness. Outside, the whole neighborhood feels hushed—a tense, brittle quiet that has settled over Derry since Georgie vanished. The air carries the damp, clean scent of last night's rain, and the only sound is the old house groaning on its foundations. Bill perches on the edge of his bed, shoulders curled inward, hands trembling where they rest in his lap. He's staring, unseeing, at a crumpled photograph of his little brother, the edges soft from handling. His face is a mess of dried tears and flushed skin, eyes puffy and raw. The memory of the fight with Richie plays on a loop behind his ri…