a corruption of the mind [r.t.]

6

— March 25th, 1993

     "Riiiichiieee," he hummed in response, too focused on the show that was on, "we should go get some ice cream or something."

     His head perked up from the many blankets that covered your couch, making you hysterical. The image of s little ball of curls popping up wss just too much, and once you felt his arms around your waist did you come back to reality. His head laid on your shoulder nuzzling in to your soft neck, and laying his chin in the crevace of your collar bone. Your smile couldn't be stopped, and you let yourself enjoy this physical contact. Both of you were definitely confused, never knowing what to call each other. Whenever Richie was asked if you two were friends, he would say yes, but in the back of his mind he knew that it friends don't normally leave hickies on each other's necks or touch each other in the way you two do. He was always confused, but let it go, not wanting to ruin his bliss.

     "I saw an ice cream truck around the park, you wanna go? I'll pay." Your head nodded, a thick locks swaying all around you, a sea of [Hair Color] waving. He smiled. What did someone have to do to get this close to perfection? Whatever he did, he could tell it was pretty good. He grabbed your hand, lifting you up and pulling you close to his body. He hugged your smaller form, playing with your pretty hair. You always smelled nice, like you had just made some cookies and planted roses. The though of you planting flowers made him think of the future, hopefully with him.

     He would come back from work all tired to see that you decorated the outside of your guy's home, then walk inside to smell your great cooking. He would go behind you, hug you, and kiss you until his lips were numb. Oh how he wanted that so bad. He couldn't wait for the day he would kneel on one knee and give you the prettiest ring he had ever seen, slip it on your thin finger, and love you for the rest of his life. Even if you two didn't go farther than this hormonal touching, he would be happy, as long as you were happy.

     "Then let's go now, we gotta get home before your mother worries!" His voice was laced with sarcasm, but your breath hitched. You hated this, that everything anyone said would put you in a state of shock, but what could you do when it had used every word in his limited vocabulary that night. He wouldn't know why you always took quick gasps of air, he just thought it was some type of tick, like when he would start to tap his fingers on his desk and make everyone around him hate him.

     If he did find out sooner, then it would have been a different story. He would have killed that son of a bitch, cut him up into chunks, and fed him to the coyotes. Grabbed that pocket knife he's so proud of and shoved it into his ass, then take it out and makr him lick it up. Then he would have had him cut his own dick off, slice it like a sausage, and cooked it up for him to eat. Show no mercy to a guy as disgusting as he was, that fucking cock sucker-

     "Alright, let's actually go now." You two walked out of your cozy home, still holding hands, and walking into town. Derry was definitely not the best place to live, but what you liked was that you were a pretty small place. It was a small place, so most of you knew each other. That way it was easier to know who the slut on 83rd Avenue was, or what Karen did to Jessie when she found out she was sleeping with Paul. Just useful things. You guys finally got to the park, looking over to see other younger kids holding their ice cream cones to their mouths in a frenzy, gobbling it all up just to ask their parent for more.

     "Hey can I have a chocolate cone and a," he looked over at you, thinking for a little, "[Favorite Ice Cream Flavor] for the beautiful woman over here."

     Your blush could probably be seen from Oregon, and he was pretty proud of this moment in particular. That one time he made you as red as a wild strawberry, it would never get old. He would tell it to your children, over exaggerating the story until he would feel the small smack of your hand on his arm, and your smile mischievous. What nice times you two would have, growing old and retiring together, him probably dying sooner than you because of how much he smoked, but being okay with it.

     Even you would have been happy to live out your life with him, but that isn't how life works. You either push through or give up. In your case, you had no choice but to give up. Whenever you weren't with Richie, life was a never ending hell. Wake up, go to school, hang with Richie, get brutally raped by Henry while being threatened with things you would never imagine, then go home to show your arms no mercy.

     Sometimes you would ask yourself why you just let this happen, and it was because of what can out of Henry's mouth. He would say things, telling you terrorizing things you would never let go. That he would personally go over to Richie's and stab him dead if you went and opened your mouth or even thought of not meeting him by the boys locker room. If you didn't bend over right now he would make sure that your Mother didn't see another day. He would make Richie hate you. How you hated the thought of that one especially. You wouldn't be able to bear it. If it ever came to that, then you would end your life. There would be nothing else to live for.

     "Hey [Name], you okay? You're a bit pale, do you want me to make you soup when we get you home?" You looked up at him, a ghostly smile, and shook your head. His heart raced in his chest, scared of what you were capable of. Please, please don't do anything terrible. No matter what, it could never get to that point. He would never forgive himself. His whole existence would have had no use if you weren't happy.

So please, don't do anything that would break him.