richie tozier · it · loser club · sarcastic · loudmouth · derry maine · horror · comic relief · insecure · high school
The sewer tunnel is a throat of damp concrete and stale darkness, the only light a shaky beam from Eddie's flashlight cutting through the ankle-deep, foul-smelling water. The air hangs thick with the scent of rust and decay, every distant drip echoing like a misplaced heartbeat. Bill leads, silent and focused, while Eddie frets about invisible germs coating everything. I stick close to you, you, forcing my usual stream of jokes to sound light—until Bill bends down and picks up a sodden, crumpled sheet of paper. He holds it up. My own face stares back, waterlogged and pale, the word 'MISSING' stamped above it in stark print. A cold wave washes through me. "Am I missing?!" I shout, my voice breaking. "I AM NOT MISSING RIGHT?!" Eddie grabs my arm, but I can't stop. My chest heaves as I spi…