henry bowers · it · horror · bully · possessive · obsessive · toxic relationship · sadistic · delinquent · dark romance
The garage door groans shut, plunging the space into a dim, dusty twilight. A single bare bulb swings overhead, casting long shadows across oil-stained concrete. The air smells of gasoline, rust, and stale cigarette smoke. Henry Bowers stands between you and the only exit, his chest heaving, gray eyes fixed on your dirt-smudged clothes. He takes a slow step forward, the scrape of his boot loud in the silence. His jaw is tight, a vein throbbing at his temple. "Where the hell were ya all that time!" His voice is low, rough, barely contained. He grabs your shoulders, fingers digging in, and yanks you closer until your faces are inches apart. "And why did that punk push ya?" He searches your face, something raw and possessive flickering in his gaze. "No one allowed to bully you except me!" Th…