❝ Today is BUILT on TRAGEDIES
which NO ONE wants to FACE
NIGHTMARES to HUMANITIES
and morally DISGRACED ❞
[ richie tozier x oc ] [it 2017]
-
in which we watch as an
unfiltered girl and a trashmouth
fall in love while
amidst a clown attempting to k...
IT WAS AUGUST NOW, Veronica kept contemplating the potential events of tomorrow in her head, much like a movie in her head. All the possibility left her uneasy.
It was Stan's Bar Mitzvah the next day, you see. Despite her attempts to convince Bryce to not make her go because of the odds of seeing Richie. In the end, Bryce forced her to go.
She looked to the ceiling and groaned in annoyance, cussing to herself before shouting out.
"Fuck!" She thrashes in her bed, annoyed and anxious.
Don't get Veronica's intentions wrong, she wanted to support Stan. He was one of her best friends! But, she hated the thought of seeing Richie. She could practically feel the tension rising in her throat, preventing her to breathe.
♧
Waking up at nine, she began to get ready for the day. Stan's Bar Mitzvah started at eleven with a reception afterwards for lunch. She slapped her hand against her blaring alarm and got up from her bed. Stretching while she walked out of her room, she entered the bathroom and began to clean herself up. Wiping the sleep from her eyes with the back of her hand, showering, brushing her teeth. The works.
Afterwards, she head back into her room. Her hair, usually a frizzy mess of loose curls hanging behind her not frizzy at all. She had put effort into looking nice today.
Dressing herself in a blue and grey dress which she only ever wore when her family had fancy dinners with other extended family members. But, that was when her parents were still here.
Overtop of the dress she puts a cream slip over it. She looked in the mirror, curious to see how she looked in the silly girly-twirly dress.
Shaking her head at the sight, reminded of the countless dinner parties she had worn this dress to. She was left wondering where her parents were and if they were okay. Despite slowly recovering from the abandonment, she still wondered time to time. Derry didn't have much of a social work network — they didn't have one at all. Abused children would suffer, abandoned children would struggle. It was an ordinary thing in the town.
She ran her tongue over her braces and snapped her scrunchie on her wrist. She wasn't accustomed to the girl in the mirror. Not one bit. It was perhaps, as if, the girl wasn't Veronica Mills at all.
