sci·am·a·chy
sīˈaməkē
noun: archaic
noun: sciamachy;
noun: skiamachy
argument or conflict with an imaginary enemy.
Tilly Fawcett was nothing more than a cigarette smoking, bad mouthed, ginger headed 16 year old who happened to be the close cousin o...
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Tilly couldn't sleep since that estranged encounter with the clown at the railroads. It's face, its smile, its voice haunted her every dream to the point that she would stare off till the sun rose, unblinking but completely aware. When she returned home, Samantha tried to engage a conversation with her but it only resulted with a door slammed in her face. Tilly didn't have a fear, at least she thought she didn't. Maybe it was because her uncle had died years ago due to leukemia. But the explanation of what she saw, what she felt was something beyond her own comprehension.
Shaking her head, Tilly tossed her long ginger hair into a messy bun before dressing up into a denim dress with various colorful patches, combat boots, and round frame sun glasses to hide her lack of sleep. Her hand reached for a random bag which just so happened to be a red purse covered in moths, her cigarette packet was quickly deposited inside. Tilly didn't even try and hide that she was leaving and Samantha didn't bother to ask. "Be safe." Was all she said, and Tilly replied with a simple nod.
The Diner down in Main Street was nearly empty, like usual unless it was a major holiday or school event. Tilly sat in a corner booth, hidden behind shades as she read over a magazine discussing the latest gossip. Something she didn't usually do but her nerves were fried and anything to keep her mind off of things was her last resort, even if it was some up your ass magazine. Her food, which was a simple chocolate shake with a hamburger and fries, was placed in front of her without a word. Confused, she glanced over the magazine to see the Losers Club hesitantly standing around her table. "Do you need somethin'?" Tilly questioned while scrutinizing the four boys that stood beside her booth.
"C-Can we sit w-with you?" Bill asked while looking over at the other three who nodded their heads in agreement. Tilly remained emotionless before heaving a sigh and nodding for them to sit. Without hesitation, Richie rushed to slide in beside her causing Bill and Stan to glare slightly as they including Eddie slipped into the leather seats across from her. "What are you eating, mama?" Richie cooed while leaning towards her with big eyes. Tilly pushed his face back with her magazine, a frown evident on her lips. "Again, do y'all need something?"
"A kiss-"
"Shut up, Richie."
"What's that? Oh sounds like a little bi-"
"We wanted to see if you are okay." Stan cut into the banter of Eddie and Richie, his hands clasped on the table top. "I'm fine. Why're you asking?" Tilly knew before they even said anything what they were bringing up. "Y-you seemed sca-scared the last time we saw you." Bill chimed as he stared right into the lenses of Tilly's shades. "Look, it's none of your business. So don't worry about it." Tilly hated to be viewed as weak, or fearful. It was something she swore to never show since her early years of sexual abuse.
"What I'm worried about is why you haven't given into my charm." Richie wiggled his eyebrows towards Tilly who plucked her shades from her face as well as Richie's own spectacles. "That's because I prefer my boys to be charmed instead of charmers. Tell me, lover boy, do I charm you?" Tilly placed a hand on his jean clad thigh, instantly making the boy stiffen at the foreign touch. "Oh shit, I think I'm having a heart attack." Tilly rolled her eyes while depositing the seeing glasses into the pocket of Richie's shirt before moving over the dazed Tozier and out of the booth.
"I'll see you boys around." Tilly placed her sunglasses on Eddie who's mouth instantly dropped. Tilly couldn't help but smirk. "It says here that boys don't like girls who are too serious." Stan uttered, apparently he had took to reading the magazine while Tilly teased Richie into a puddle of hormones. "Interesting." Tilly sent the group a wink before sauntering away from the table and out of the diner.
"The things I'd do to her." Richie cooed from his place up against the glass as he watched the ginger strut down the sidewalk till she was unseen. "Please, she'd probably feed you to Bowers." Eddie remarked as he took the shades off and tucked them into the front pocket of his shorts.
"Just like how your mom feeds you every night."
---------------------------------- A short chapter and a filler.
