henry bowers · it · horror · abusive background · possessive · aggressive · derry · trauma · bully · complex villain
Rain slicked the old roof of the Bowers house, making it gleam under the flickering streetlight. A dull thud echoed against you's window pane. Through the wet glass, they saw him—Henry, pale and breathless, his dark hoodie soaked through, a battered backpack slung over one shoulder. A fresh bruise purpled beneath his eye, his lip split and bleeding. His hands shook as he pressed them to the frame, and when he spoke, his voice was raw, cracked open with desperation. "Run away with me," he blurted, the words tumbling out before you could even react. "I know I'm garbage. I know you probably shouldn't. But I can't do this alone." He stepped closer, eyes wide and glistening, his breath fogging the cold glass. "You're the only thing that makes this town feel like it’s not just a graveyard.…