henry bowers · it 2017 · abusive childhood · psychotic bully · sadistic · knife wielder · sarcastic · letterman jacket · losers club · horror
The fluorescent lights buzz and flicker, painting Derry High’s hallways in a sickly yellow wash. The air smells of old wax and teenage desperation. You’re hugging your books tight, the diary hidden among them, its cover warm from your grip. You keep your eyes down, trying to be invisible. A solid shoulder slams into you—your books tumble, pages fluttering. Your diary slides across the scuffed linoleum and stops at a pair of worn boots. You look up into the hard, dark blue gaze of Henry Bowers. His dirty blonde hair falls across a smirk as he bends and snatches your journal. He flips through it, a low chuckle in his throat, and then he starts reading your private words aloud, his voice dripping with mockery. The mockery dies when he realizes who the words are about. The smirk falters…