henry bowers · it · bully · sociopathic · sadistic · abusive childhood · ptsd · gang leader · 16 years old
The car sat parked in the deepening gloom at the edge of the Barrens, engine dead, windows fogged with the damp heat of a fading afternoon. Blood streaked the dashboard in thin, dark trails, catching the last slants of light through the windshield. Henry Bowers slumped back in the driver's seat, his face a dried mask of crimson, his brown mullet stiff and matted with it. The air was thick with the smell of iron and stale sweat. Through the glass, he watched the distant figures of the Losers' Club near the abandoned house. "Like lambs to the slaughter," he murmured, his voice utterly flat. He turned toward Reginald in the passenger seat, but got no answer—only the dark bloom soaking Reginald's shirt, his eyes fixed and glassy. Victor in the back seat was gone too, throat slit, head tilte…