Liar // Patrick Hockstetter x fem!Reader x Henry Bowers

Twenty-Six 》Shit

July 12, 1988

The next morning arrived. Finally! After a sleepless night filled with crying and overthinking.

You slowly sat up, but you didn't want to stand up right away. It was just too much work... So, you decided to spend this beautiful, sunny day in bed, descending in self-pity and hatred against Henry.

Actually, you were more angry at yourself than at him.

The boy had slapped you and hurt you in some other, more verbal ways. But it was you, who let Patrick get close enough to even have the chance to kiss you. Or touch you.

You should've kicked him the nuts and went for a run. Maybe you would have "survived" by yourself. Maybe even with Henry's help if you had told him...

Or maybe Henry would not have been on your side at all, seeing how Patrick's view of things made him ignore your's.

You rubbed the sleep out of your tired eyes. Good God, you were ready to fall asleep at any given second.

You just didn't want to.

Then, you heard your mother cursing down in the kitchen before your name was repeatedly yelled.

"But I am not fucking allowed to cuss, huh?", you murred as you rolled out of bed and landed flat on you back.

That hurt. You helped yourself get up, groaning in pain while rubbing your back. Then you walked to your mirror and stared at your pale reflection.

Glossy, red eyes, flushed cheeks and greasy hair. You looked stunning.

With one roll of your eyes, you grabbed a brush and tried to restrain and maintain your hair a little before you settled onto a beanie.

There was no way you could fix your looks that easily. Running into the bath, you licked your lips to water them again.

When you reached it, you quickly rinsed your mouth with mouthwash and splashed your face with water.

Then you threw on your clothes and rushed downstairs to your angered mother, being only able to imagine what her problem was.

You got this. You needed to be cool and act like you had just slept bad.

Nothing was gonna happen.
Hopefully.

•<>•<>•<>•

Somehow—like there was some fucking guardian angel watching over you—you had survived your trip downstairs.

You mom hadn't questioned you. Hell, you didn't even think she had looked at you for more than five seconds.

But Bill had. And now that he knew something was up with you, he was on his way to confront you about it.

He'd be there any second if it wasn't for Georgie, who nearly caused the older boy to fall backwards when he jumped into him.

"Can we go out?", he asked.

"N-Not right n-now, okay, G-G-Georgie?", he replied. He never intended on hurting his brother's feelings, but the little kid was doing fine.

You on the other hand were doing horrible and he made it his mission help you out of whatever you were feeling.

He shoved the brown haired boy away from him and told him, that he should go and take their mother for a walk in the park.

The youngest of the children nodded quickly and ran away, searching for his mother.

And Bill took that opportunity to finally knock on your door. He heard some ruffling and moving before you were on the way to open your bedroom's door.

With a loud 'click' it was unlocked and you held it slightly open, peeking out. What a surprise... You had thought he went out with his friends again.