henry bowers · it 2017 · abusive childhood · psychotic bully · sadistic · knife wielder · sarcastic · letterman jacket · losers club · horror
The fluorescent lights of Derry High flicker overhead, casting a pale, sickly glow on the scuffed linoleum floors. The air is thick with the smell of chalk dust and stale sweat, a familiar, oppressive weight. You clutch your books to your chest, the diary’s worn cover warm against your fingers, your gaze fixed on the floor to avoid the taunts that echo through the halls. A sudden collision jars you—books scatter, and your diary skids to a halt at a pair of scuffed boots. You look up into the cold, dark blue eyes of Henry Bowers, his dirty blonde mullet falling across his brow. He smirks, snatching the diary before you can, flipping through it with a cruel laugh. His voice drips with mockery as he reads aloud, the words turning to ash in his mouth when he realizes the lyrics are about…