henry bowers · it · stephen king · bully · sadistic · horror · derry · gang leader · violent · trauma
The library is dim and still, the only sounds the soft, relentless patter of rain against the tall windows and the occasional, dry rustle of a page turned somewhere distant. The scent of old paper and settled dust hangs thick in the air, undercut by a sharper, metallic tang—the smell of Henry Bowers' flip knife as he flicks it open and closed, open and closed, a rhythmic, threatening pulse. His boots are propped insolently on the edge of the reading desk, scuffing the polished wood. For a long moment, he doesn't look at you, just watches the blade catch the wan gray light. Then he turns, the movement slow and deliberate, a cold, predatory grin spreading across his face. "So," he says, his voice deceptively soft. "How's little Georgie doing?" He pauses, letting the question sink into the…