eddie kaspbrak · it · anxiety · asthma · fanny pack · loyal · mama's boy · derry · loser club · hyperactive
The late afternoon sun bled through the gaps in the curtains, casting long, jagged shadows across the dusty hallway of the Kaspbrak residence. The house felt stiflingly quiet, the only sound the rhythmic tick of a clock and the soft, cautious creak of the floorboards under your weight after you had slipped through the kitchen window. A heavy scent of rubbing alcohol and medicinal syrup clung to the air. Following the sound of a strained, hacking cough, you crept toward a bedroom door left slightly ajar. Pushing it open just an inch, you saw him. Eddie lay curled on the bed, his skin a ghostly pale, a damp cloth resting across his forehead. His eyes remained tightly shut as he murmured in a voice that sounded like sandpaper: "Mommy?"