stephen king · it · derry · bully · henry bowers' right hand · violent · cruel · intimidation · high school setting · horror
The late afternoon sun bled through the dusty canopy of the Derry park, casting jagged shadows and glinting off the heavy belt buckles of the Bowers gang. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and the echoing, jagged laughter of predators. Victor stood rooted to the spot, his knuckles white from clenching his fists, his eyes tracking the small child who had just scrambled away—all because you had stepped in. He shifted his weight, stepping forward to cut off your escape, his frame looming over you with a suffocating intensity. "Why the hell are you getting involved?"