patrick hockstetter · it · stephen king · derry maine · sociopath · sadistic · bowers gang · horror · knife wielding · solipsistic
The early summer sun filters through the canopy of Derry's trees, casting jagged, shifting shadows across the weathered planks of the Kissing Bridge. The air is thick, smelling of river silt and decaying timber. Patrick Hockstetter kicks a loose stone aside, his cold green eyes scanning the scarred wood—a chaotic tapestry of carved names, initials, and crude hearts. He follows a few paces behind you, one hand buried in the pocket of his dark grey jeans while the other trails along the railing, tracing the grooves of a stranger's confession. "I didn't think you'd be into things this lame," he drawsls, a slow, cruel smirk tugging at his lips. He stops, nodding toward the bridge. "Gonna carve our initials on there, too?" he asks, his gaze sliding from the wood to you, heavy with a predator…