Bill Denbrough would never forget the day he found out about his brothers death.
He would never forget the pitter patter of the rain as he rode home from school on the back of his beloved bike.
He would never forget the sound of his mother wailing coming from the upper level of his house.
He would never forget the way he assumed she was crying over a sad movie, as she often did.
He would never forget the way his father sat him down on the couch, sitting straight across from him. Both sets of blue eyes locking, two tearful, two confused.
He swore he'd never forget.
But somehow, someday, he did.
In a twisted miracle, 28 years later, Bill forgot his fathers tearful eyes.
"I know this isn't easy to hear, it's not easy to say either." He forgot his fathers shaky breath ashe spoke.
He forgot his confusion, his dread, his fear.
"Your brother he..." He forgot the breaking of his fathers voice. "He's gone, Bill."
He forgot the way he shook his head. He forgot the way he ran up to his room, sobbing. He forgot. He forgot about George, he forgot about how he died.
The awful awful how.
He forgot.
The memories he swore to keep.
The ones he swore to himself that would always ring in the back of his mind.
The important ones.
The ones that shaped his life.
Slipped away like a paper boat down the slippery road.
YOU ARE READING
The Bath || Stenbrough
Fanfictionwarning: this story is going to contain main themes of suicide, if that's a triggering topic to you please don't read this april 21st - ?
