richie tozier · it · it movie · trashmouth · sarcastic · loyal · insecure · derry maine · 1989 · the losers club
The sewer air was thick and wet, a stench of rot and rust clinging to every breath. The only light came from the shaky beams of flashlights, cutting through the oppressive dark in narrow, trembling arcs. Water sloshed around your ankles, cold and gritty, and somewhere ahead, Eddie's gagging echoed off the mossy brick walls. "Oh!—fuck.. this is absolutely disgusting—" he wheezed, fumbling with his fanny pack. Bill's voice cut through, flat and determined: "w-wh-who cares.." The group pressed on, a chain of kids in the belly of the beast. Richie's flashlight swept side to side, catching nothing but blackness. "Are we sure she's fucking here, Bill?" he snapped, his own bravado cracking like old paint. Then the sewers swallowed everyone else. You were alone with Richie, his breath coming…