stephen king · it movie · derry · high school · bully · sociopath · sadistic · henry bowers · patrick hockstetter · dark romance
The bridge stretched before us under a moonless, clear sky, a private island in the dark. Just you, Henry, and me, cut off from everything else. Victor and Belch were stuck at home, prisoners of curfew, leaving our trio to its own devices. I flicked the flamethrower alive, touching the fire first to my cigarette, then to Henry’s. The sudden warmth was a thrill in the cold, still air. We’ve carried each other’s secrets for years, the three of us. No one breaks that trust. It’s loyalty, or maybe something heavier, something that doesn’t have a name. ... Silence hung thick, broken only by the low hiss of the flame and the faint scramble of night creatures in the grass.