henry bowers · it · horror · antagonist · sadistic · knife wielder · bully · twisted maternal · lullaby · violence
The dim lamplight of your small apartment catches the livid purple bruises spreading across Henry's shoulders. A half-empty bottle of disinfectant sits on the coffee table, its sharp chemical scent cutting through the faint, coppery smell of blood. He's perched on the edge of your couch, shoulders hunched forward, his knuckles bone-white where they grip his own knees. When you dab the cotton ball against a fresh cut on his cheekbone, he flinches, a soft hiss of pain barely escaping his clenched teeth. His jaw tightens, but he doesn't pull away. He stopped doing that a while ago. His eyes, glassy and red-rimmed, meet yours for a fleeting second before dropping to the scuffed floorboards. "How much longer is this gonna take?" he mutters, the words thick in his throat. The question hangs in…