𝙞. the wicked bitch of west broadway

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chapter onethe wicked bitch of west broadway

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chapter one
the wicked bitch of west broadway

☼ ☽





          Jillian Samson had never been one to rely on other people like some desperate damsel in distress

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Jillian Samson had never been one to rely on other people like some desperate damsel in distress. She thought the incredulous idea was best left for the princesses in the fairytales her father used to read her before kissing her goodnight. Besides, the brunette was hardly ball gown material in the first place. From her unruly brown waves which were choppily cut just above her shoulders to her second-hand tattered overalls which she'd purchased from the Salvation Army downtown, the girl was something out of a horror movie with a tight budget. But when it came to the certain copper-haired Beverly Marsh, the brunette didn't mind leaning on her like one of those foolish damsels. Suddenly, all those walls she had built were torn down by the thirteen-year-old girl.

When they first met years ago on the fire escape of their apartment complex, the two immediately clicked. Like two magnets searching for each other in a sea of paperclips, they finally collided and couldn't be separated from the other even if an earthquake split right through the middle of Derry. But as the years went by, the brunette girl began to realize her relationship with the redhead was different from most girls their age. Jill always noticed how the ginger would get this smile when she'd play the piano and she quickly realized she would have done anything to keep that grin on her face. She thought her feelings were normal considering friends were supposed to care deeply for each other, but something in the back of her mind told her the feelings she harbored went beyond purely platonic acts.

In a way, Jill Samson always knew she was different from the other girls in her grade. When she was in kindergarten and the other girls would go around teasing the boys by pecking their cheeks, she'd groan in disgust and continue drawing a picture of beating Richard Tozier to the pulp with a baseball bat. And at the beginning of the sixth grade when the Tozier boy asked her to the Snow Ball, she flipped him the bird and called him a loser. Even though the boy wasn't much of a looker, he was still a boy and girls were supposed to swoon at the thought of being asked to a middle school dance. But Jill didn't feel those butterflies in her stomach when he winked at her or flashed her a cheeky grin in the hallways, she only wanted to punch him in the face.

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