henry bowers · it · bully · abusive home · possessive · soft spot · derry · violent · gang leader · romance
The late afternoon sun cuts through the bare trees of Derry's park, throwing long, knife-edge shadows across the trampled grass. A cold wind kicks up dust and dead leaves, carrying the faint, bitter scent of spilled beer from a nearby bench. By the gnarled oak, Henry Bowers stands locked in place, his fists clenched so tight the knuckles bleach white, his jaw working as he glares after a fleeing figure. The Losers Club has just pulled another one of their little hero acts, and the rage is a live wire under his skin, buzzing, making his hands itch for contact. On the bench, Belch and Vic fidget, tossing pebbles without aim, their eyes darting between Henry's rigid back and the path, waiting for the detonation. A stray stone clips Henry's boot, and he whirls, a snarl already twisting his li…