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THE WIND SANG IN HER EARS AND BLOWDRIED HER HAIR AS SHE FRANTICALLY PEDDLED, pulling further and further away from Stan as she rode faster and faster towards the house on 29 Neilbolt Street. The wind may have sang, but the words were frosted and she was sure small ice crystals were forming on the tips of her ears the longer she cycled. IT had Beverly. The girl with a practically nonexistent mother and a pervert janitor for a father. How could they be so certain? From what it sounded like, she'd just vanished without rhyme or reason.
Inside her head, she conjured up an image of what the fliers would look like, if they'd resemble the ones for Patrick and for Georgie. MISSING: Beverly Marsh. Her most recent photograph in monochrome, and the circumstances of her disappearance.
The pair of cyclists skimmed out of the neat part of the neighbourhood, past her very own Moore Street and curving down towards Neilbolt, where she could already see her friends clustered on the lawn, their socks pulled up their shins. She could already see Eddie pacing back and forth anxiously.
By the time she discarded her bike onto the pathway, tossing it harshly to the left so that it grazed for a moment across the sidewalk, and stumbled up towards the house, her hair was a curly texture, in a bizarrely movie-esque fashion, as if she were Lisa from Weird Science, or something.
"Guys," she greeted, going through the open gate that had rusted away from its hinges. Bill removed his backpack and cast her a momentary smile (more like a tug of his mouth, honestly, a weak curl of his lip). "She's really ... gone?" Romy swallowed, "Are you certain it was ... IT?"
"I'm sure," Bill reassured, kneeling down and exclaiming, "Guys, the pikes."
Woah. Are we a cult now, or something? The Ghostbusters? she thought to herself, Meg'll turn into a megabitch if she finds out what they're doing. Bill pulled multiple spikes from his backpack, shards of metal filed into points. To her, it seemed like he had taken a turn, given that he acted like a badass now.
They were really entering again? Given their result the last time, Romy was convinced that this whole ordeal was over, for twenty-seven years, at least. After what had happened last time she'd entered the wellhouse, she never planned on reentering.
The newly conjured image of Patrick remained fresh inside her brain, and it made her wince just thinking about it. You know I get scared easily! was what she'd said, all that time ago, to Cindy before they'd gone to see that Nightmare On Elm Street horror movie. Since then, her whole life had turned into a horror movie.
Other than that, taking her pills again was making her gain weight. There was no physical proof, but she felt disgusting, bloated and constantly full. She wasn't planning on mentioning it, but perhaps that was partly the feeling of dread she felt just by looking at Neilbolt. Her stomach knotted as she tied her hair up with the single hair elastic that was always present upon her wrist. Not that having her hair away from her cheeks made her feel any better. She still felt sickly.
