a corruption of the mind [r.t.]

3

— January 25th, 1993

     Something he would never forget were the nights in the winter when you two would sneak out and play in the snow. It didn't matter that there was the curfew on the town, as long as you two stayed somewhere near where anyone could hear you screaming in pain, you should be fine. You guys would gear up in all of your heavy clothes and go into the eerily quiet nights of Derry, finally free from the tiny children running around and using up all the good snow. After all the running around came hot chocolate time, and you guys went into your home to lay cozily in an abundance of blankets, then watch a horror movie to end the long night.

     This is why he loved you.

     On a particular night, he remembered a single moment which would be engraved into his brain for the rest of his life, like a scar. Except if they were scars, then he would be covered from head to toe (which would not be pleasant). He remembered how you shivered when he touched your skin, his cold hands making a mixture of emotions burst in your stomach. Cold, pleasure, excitement, heat, joy, curiosity. Pain. Pain. Pain. Ow. He kept touching, but the more he did, the more you feared. Nothing could change what happened to your brain that night, but you could at least feel that this was different. But the pit feeling didn't change. Please, let me be free.

     Your lips touched, sending more shivers to down your spine, and his sigh only added to that lovely burst of new emotions in your heart, traveling down your body and into every crevace. You lay your head on the couch where you two sat after your adventures in snow land, but something didn't seem right. As his hands went higher, you feared. Stop stop stop, don't touch right there or you'll feel the-

     "Scar." He touched under your breast a couple times, as though he were trying to remember every single inch of that piece of skin. He looked up at you, a look of sorry spread through his normally smug features, this made your heart race more. And you were sure he could feel that. He pulled you up by you covered arm, doing a double take when I wasn't as smooth as he thought it was. He felt the ridges of those scabs, tracing every single one, whether it was small or big, he would find it.

     "D-did," one arm was slung on your shoulders and the other was still analyzing the new information, "did you do this to yourself?"

     All you could hope was that he meant both areas, so you nodded sadly. You got too close, and you knew that it was all your fault. If only you hsd been more careful, more cautious it wouldn't have ended with this. Stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid you fucking dumb ass how could you do this I can't believe you what do you have to do to be that stupid might as well let you out of your fucking misery you piece of shit and end your life you fucking scum-

     "What about the one on your chest? Was that you too?" You look up worriedly, wanting to end this conversation as soon as possible. please. Let it go. Let me go. I swear I won't tell if you end it right here. Please PLEASE.

     "Y-Yeah." The hairs on the back of your neck stood still, and your bones stayed as stiff as clay in an oven. Just buy it. Please.

     Except he knew. He knew that it definitely wasn't you. It must have been someone else, but why would they cut you right there if they were just attacking you-

     And then it all came down on him. Your sudden disappearance in December 4th, 1992. You missed school the whole week, and when you came back you were completely brain dead. Like someone took a drill and used it to blend your brain right inside of your skull, like a smoothie. You quickly shook out of that the next day though, and it was like you were back to normal. Key word=like. You were never the same. Not the [Name] he knew and loved. Close, but definitely not.

     "Don't ask any more questions, nothing happened." The look in your eyes pleaded for release, and he knew that if he kept pushing it wouldn't do any use. You wouldn't budge, and he was not going to cause you pain. Not ever.

     "Only if you promise me you're safe. Please." You inhaled sharply, passing it as a regular breath by just a little. How could you lie to him? You never did find out, but what you did know was that it came out smoothly, and that scared you. The less he knew  the better, as long as he was safe, you were safe. Both of you called it a night, and did not speak about that again. Even if you tried, you knew it would be the end.

—

     "Fuck, Richie," Issac, a fellow classmate and connection, cursed the messy boy in front of him, "you can't just come up to me and try to buy everything I've got, I still have to get some other people their stuff and if I don't then I'll get the biggest fucking beating, you understand that? It'll be so bad I probably won't come to school until December!"

"How about I tell you that I'll do trades too," the blonde boy's head perked up at this, knowing that he could get even more cash from this, "apart from paying up I'll even throw in a bottle of vodka, a twelve pack in my locker, and even some tequila. Let me just add that my Mom is a fucking alcoholic and has the best taste in this shit."

"Fuck man, I don't know if that's enough. These guys are fucking addicts, you know? They don't just say that they can take a day off, and if they do, then it's my fault, and I already said what will happen-"

"I'll also connect you to a guy who may or may not have some tranquilizers if you ask nicely." He had him, that weed was basically his now that he brought up the bad stuff.

"Okay, come with me, I've got it all in my trunk." Richie followed the guy loosely outside, knowing he was probably skipping class again. The bell had rung five minutes ago, and if he showed up now, then it would be a mess with the teacher. Better to not go at all if you're gonna be late. Besides, he didn't like that class no more.

     Without you, it wasn't any fun.