"I have to go,too," I spoke up, my voice barely above a whisper. "My mom's waiting for me." It was only half the truth.
I went around the circle, giving each of my friends a tight hug, saving Ben for last. I tried desperately to keep the tears from...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
•°Corinne's POV°•
My head was pounding, a brutal, throbbing ache that felt like my skull had been smashed against the ground over and over again. Consciousness returned slowly, dragged back by an awful, coppery stench that filled my nose and mouth. Something warm and wet dripped onto my face.
My eyes snapped open.
Reaching up, my fingers came away smeared with red. Blood. It was dripping on me from somewhere in the darkness above. Panic shot through me, cold and sharp. I tried to move, but a heavy numbness had settled in my legs. It was a struggle just to push myself up onto my elbows.
Beverly wasn't far from me, lying completely unconscious. Using every bit of strength I had, I dragged myself closer to her, shaking her shoulder.
"Bev. Bev, wake up."
Her eyes fluttered open, dazed and confused. "Cori?" she mumbled, sitting up with a pained groan. "Yeah,it's me," I said, my voice hoarse.
Finally, I took in our surroundings, and my blood ran cold. We were in a cavernous, nightmare junkyard deep underground. The air was thick with the stench of rot and rust. And above us, suspended in the air like grotesque balloons, were the missing children of Derry. Their lifeless forms drifted silently in the gloom.
It was a gallery of horrors.
We had to move. Our legs were weak and uncooperative, but we forced ourselves to stand, leaning on each other for support. We didn't speak; we were too afraid that any sound would bring It down upon us.
Beverly's foot slipped, and she fell into a shallow stream of filthy, grey water with a gasp. I hauled her back up, her clothes soaked and clinging to her. That's when we saw it: an old, ornate circus carriage. On its side, faded but unmistakable, were the words: PENNYWISE, THE DANCING CLOWN.
A light was on inside.
My gut twisted. It was closer than we'd hoped. Much closer.
Beverly grabbed my hand, her grip icy with fear. "We need to try and get out of here, now!" she whisper-yelled, pulling me toward a set of heavy metal doors.
We braced ourselves against the slimy wall, our fingers finding purchase on the cold metal. We pulled with all our might, our feet slipping on the wet stone. The door groaned in protest but didn't budge. We tried again, desperation giving us strength, but it was useless. It was sealed shut.
"Step right up, Beverly and Corinne. Step right up."
The voice boomed from hidden speakers, echoing through the cavern. We flinched back from the door, pressing ourselves against the wall as a music box began to play a distorted, tinny circus tune.
"Come change. Come float. You'll laugh. You'll cry. You'll cheer. You'll die." The voice laughed, a sound that was anything but joyful. "Introducing... Pennywise, the dancing clown!"
A jack-in-the-box sprung open on the carriage, a grotesque clown doll popping out. Then, the entire side of the carriage fell away with a crash, revealing a small, garishly lit stage inside.
Fireworks fizzled and popped, filling the air with acrid smoke. When it cleared, he was there.
Pennywise.
He stood perfectly still on the stage, his hideous yellow eyes staring right through us. A violent shiver racked my spine. He began a jerky, unnatural dance, never once breaking his gaze.
On the other side of the stage was another tunnel—our only visible way out. It was a desperate chance, but we had to take it.
"Now!" I hissed.
We broke into a run, darting past the stage. But he was faster. With a leap that defied physics, he landed right in front of us, blocking our path. His laughter echoed around us, sharp and mocking. Before we could react, his hands shot out and closed around our throats, lifting us clear off the ground.
His grip was iron-tight, cutting off our air. We kicked and struggled, but it was like fighting a statue. Our thrashing only made him laugh harder, a wet, gurgling sound that promised endless pain.
I refused to give him the satisfaction of my fear. Gasping for air, I forced the words out. "We're... not... afraid of you."
He pulled us closer, his face inches from mine. He sniffed us like a wild animal, a deep, disgusting inhalation. He grunted, a sound of pure revulsion, as if he hated what he smelled on us.
"You will be," he growled, and it sounded like a death sentence.
Then his jaw unhinged. His mouth opened wider and wider, his face distorting into a gateway to some unspeakable void. Deep in the back of his throat, three blinding lights began to spin, and with them came the sound—a thousand children screaming in unison, a chorus of pure terror that felt like it was shredding my mind from the inside out.
The world began to tunnel. I fought against the blackness, against the overwhelming pull of unconsciousness, but it was a battle I was losing. One moment I was staring into the heart of madness, and the next, everything went black.
