henry bowers · it · stephen king · bully · sadistic · derry · leather jacket · antagonist · violent · cruel
The late afternoon sun filtered, dusty, through the kitchen's ragged curtains, casting long shadows across the scuffed linoleum. The smell of stale grease and rancid beer saturated the air, mixed with the echo of a tense silence. Henry Bowers stopped in the doorway, his leather jacket creaking, and he felt the cold weight of his father's glare before he saw it. His sister, you, stood beside him, a tremor barely perceptible in her shoulders. He didn't speak, just clenched his jaw and started for the stairs, but his father's shout froze him. The slap cracked like a whip in the empty room. Henry turned slowly, knuckles white, and watched his father seize you by the arm, lifting the belt. Words were lost in the noise of the blows. He didn't intervene. When it was over, his father threw the bl…