He Likes Boys//It (2017)

o n e

Chapter One:

There was nothing Henry Bowers loved more than to see people who were fearful. More importantly, people who were fearful of him. These were the thoughts that endlessly twisted around Henry Bowers mind as he clenched his fist beneath his desk, fantasizing about everyone he would beat to a pulp as soon as the clock hit 3. He checked his pocket, making sure his switchblade was still safely tucked away.

The bell rang and Bowers slowly got up from his desk, looking around at the nerds who were staying behind, either handing in homework or returning over due library books. Bowers and his gang waited just outside the school doors, ready to jump them the moment they were off school grounds. It was going to be one hell of a laugh.

Hom Justco.

Bowers spotted him walking out the front doors with enough textbooks to kill a small mammal. "Hey Hom!" Bowers started to walk up to him, a sweet sound of fake cheeriness filled his voice as he grabbed the front of Hom's shirt and lifted him up off the ground. Terror filled Hom's face. The smile he had been wearing just a few moments ago were long gone. All that was left were wide eyes and his jaw that was gaping open was he realized what was happening. He tried to turn around and run, but Bowers had already grabbed his shirt, and his thin body, seemingly weightless, was in that moment lifted off the ground.

He tried to kick and fight. Henry's friends laughed. It was a cold and spineless laugh, it was a laugh that sounded like the cawing of crows than of anything human.

"Woah!" Bowers said, laughing, a wide smiling reaching each side of his face, but not looking like a maniacal grin. Instead he looked more like a child, seeming something that fascinated him. "We sure got a fight in this one boys!" He dropped Hom to the ground, pulling his switchblade of of his pocket.

"Let's teach our buddy here what we do to fighters." Hom felt every ounce of hope drain out of him and bleed out onto the side walk. He tried to get up and run, but now Bowers had him by his hair. He'd been growing it out over the summer. Tears leaked from Hom's eyes. He tried to claw at Henry with his nails, punch him, kick him again, but nothing seemed to have any effect on Bowers.

"Woah there, Hommy. If you don't stay still I might just mess up your makeover." Then it occurred to him. They were planning on cutting his hair. His entire body went numb. He didn't trust anyone with a switchblade, much less someone who was holding a switch blade near his head. He made a muffled attempt to silence his cries by biting into his arm. He couldn't stop himself as a sob wrecked through him. Bowers laughed. Everyone laughed. Everyone laughed at him. Because he was somehow weird. He was somehow different from the others and that made him deserve this.

Hom was angry. He knew he was no match for Bowers and his gang but he was angry. He felt Bowers tug at his hair as he cut Hom's brown locks with his switch blade. Hom watched as his long hair dropped to the ground. Henry was just barely using his switchblade, it felt like he was making more of an attempt to pull it out by the roots. It gave him more satisfaction. It gave him satisfaction to hurt others. To hurt others the way his father had hurt him.

It gave him satisfaction to hurt them for no good reason. All the times Henry had come to school, bruised and broken, with black eyes and dried blood, no one had ever cared. No one ever cared about him. And now no one cared about Hom. No one helped him, no one was there for him. No one ever would be there for him. Tears dripped down his now dirt covered cheeks, creating lines in the soot.

Hom tried to run. Henry nicked his scalp with the switchblade, just barely, but enough for Hom to feel it. Bowers still had a tight grip on Hom's remaining hair. He'd now stopped cutting, Hom was putting all his weight into trying to run.

"Where do you think you're going Hommy?" Bowers sneered at him, leaning in so close Hom could see every bit of food stuck in between his disgusting teeth. "It seems you must've not heard me?" Bowers glared at him, this time there was more venom in his voice. "I said, where the hell do you think you're going!" Hom recognized that Bowers was saying something, but when he screamed it didn't sound like words. It sounded like something primal, like the roar of an angry lion, Hom knew they were all lions, and he was trapped in the lions den. His only exit seemed to be in the lions mouth. His only exit was death. To give himself up to the lions. Hom went still, not saying a word. He'd stopped crying. Tears were no use in the lions den. He stood still, not even bothering to wipe the remaining tears from his cheeks. Bowers laughed, Hom couldn't resist. He tried to run again. It was no use. Bowers had him.

He put his full weight into it, giving it everything he had. Then Henry let go of his hair.

Hom went flying forwards, feeling his face collid with the crack in between the dirt and the cement, The sharp corner of the cement block hit him square in the forehead. Hom knew there was no time.

He pulled himself up and ran, huffing as Bowers ran after him. His legs burned and ached as he ran all that he could. He felt his chest begin to burn and knew that his lungs would give out any moment now. Still Hom ran.

He ran all that he could.

He ran for a purpose, though.

He ran to beat the devil.