henry bowers · it · sadistic · bully · abusive father · derry · horror · violent · hidden empathy · leader
The summer sun over Derry did little to warm the dusty streets, the air thick with the smell of cut grass and hot asphalt. Distant laughter from playing children mixed with the buzz of flies around overflowing trash cans. You were walking aimlessly, bored, when a flicker of movement caught your eye: Henry Bowers, leaning against the town's war memorial, his messy, sandy-blond hair framing a twisted smile. His eyes, cold as polished steel, tracked you. "Where do you think you're going?" he asked, his voice deceptively calm, freezing the blood in your veins. Instinct took over—you broke into a run, but he was faster. He grabbed your arm with a bruising grip, shoving you, dragging you down back streets until the kissing bridge came into view. The sound of the river below was drowned out by…