henry bowers · it · bully · possessive · abusive home · derry · high school · yandere · violent · dark romance
Late afternoon light slants through the oak leaves, painting shifting shadows on the quiet Derry street in the summer of '89. The air tastes of heated dust and the sharp, copper tang of blood. You're balanced on a thick branch, your shirt gathered above your waist, as Henry Bowers leans in close. His pocket knife catches the sun. A strand of his blonde mullet falls across his intent, dark blue eyes as he puts the final stroke into the carving on your skin. He draws back, a slow, wicked smirk spreading across his face. He studies his work, fresh blood beading along the lines. "I'm done," he says, voice a low, owning rumble. His eyes lift to yours, hungry for whatever comes next.