Eddie had never gone to school before. He wasn't allowed to. He also wasn't allowed to read, write, or do anything that might help educate him. It was just one of his mother's insane ways to keep him from being able to be on his own.
Because Eddie wasn't stupid at all. His mother had books and whenever she left for work or for town at his other homes, he'd sneak into her room and read as much as he could. He was out of practice and the books were terrible, but he still learned.
When Sonia was home, however, Eddie lived in the Stone Age. He could draw, listen to wordless music downstairs where his mom could monitor him, and once a week he could watch thirty minutes of television. Eddie only broke the no reading rule when he was alone, but never the television rule. Sonia would figure out if he was spending extra time on screens, but never found out if he was reading books.
Basically, his life was dull and lonely.
"Eddiebear, come here," Sonia called from downstairs.
Eddie rolled his eyes but walked downstairs, bringing the stack of papers he had been drawing with him. She always wanted to see them to make sure he wasn't breaking the rules and writing anything down.
He stood in front of her, stomping his foot on the ground to alert her to his presence. The welts covering his body reminded him to keep his mouth shut, though he really wanted to yell at her.
"There you are, sweetie. I just wanted you to know I got a job in town, and it's a day job, but they want me to go in to help set me up. I'll be back around eleven. Dinner is in the fridge, and I want you to stay in your room as soon as you finish eating." She walked up to him, crowding his space and hugged him so tight he felt as though he needed his inhaler.
When she pulled away, she looked at Eddie expectantly. He wanted to glare but decided against it and kissed his mother on the cheek, knowing he'd be hit if he didn't. Then, once she got what she wanted, Sonia smiled at him and left the house, locking the door behind her.
Eddie looked out the window and waited until her car drove away before he smiled and pressed his middle finger to the window. "Fuck you, bitch," he said quietly, glad he could finally speak.
After eating the food his mother gave him, Eddie ran up to his room and pulled out the one possession he could never let his mother find. It was an old binder that Sonia had tried to throw out, only for it to be found by Eddie, who made use of it.
In order to learn to write and read, Eddie would write poems. He liked how they sounded and their deeper meanings, and he especially loved being able to see how he could string certain words together to make each poem his own.
So, when he found the binder, Eddie hid it. He filled it with poems that he wrote and kept it hidden under a floorboard, only coming out when Sonia was away or when they moved.
That night, Eddie had a new poem to write.
My mind is blank space
Just like this dark, cold mansion
Empty. Dark. Lonely.
He was sure he had misspelled some words, but Eddie was proud of his work. He read it out loud to himself a few times, enjoying the way the worlds rolled off his tongue. After that, he decided to draw a mansion to go along with it. Pulling out pencils and dark markers, he got to work, smiling to himself the whole time.
•••
"I know you're going to break into that damn mansion. For the love of god, don't fucking do it," Stan's voice hissed over the phone.
"Didn't know you believed in God, Staniel," Richie responded with a chuckle.
"Jewish people believe in God you fuck! Just don't do anything stupid, and by that I mean, STAY IN YOUR FUCKING HOUSE TONIGHT!" Stan was yelling at that point, trying to convince Richie to not be a dumbass.
Unfortunately for him, Richie had other plans. He didn't respond and simply hung up the phone, tugging on black sweats and a sweatshirt, along with a ski mask. Then, he shoved some pliers and scissors into his backpack, should there be a fence surrounding the house he was so interested in.
Just before ten, after checking to make sure his parents were in their room, Richie snuck out the front door and pulled out the map he had stolen from Bill. He knew that Bill had noticed and that was most likely why Stan had called him. As much as he claimed he hated him, Richie knew that when asked, Stan would say they were best friends. It just made sense that Stan would be the one to call him and tell him not to be a shithead and ignore what an adult told him specifically not to do.
The sun had just set, meaning warm air still surrounded Richie, making him sweat through his dark, heavy clothes. His curiosity overpowered how uncomfortable he was, so Richie powered on, running through the familiar wooded area until he reached Kennedy road. It was an old gravel road that used to reach the centre of old Derry, until they moved the town to a bigger area after an earthquake destroyed everything except the mansion.
"What's that lady hiding?" Richie asked himself in a sing-song voice as he stopped in front of the mansion, looking up at it, feeling slightly intimidated.
It was huge and dark, especially with the sun being set. Only one light was on, shining through from the back of the house. It was dim, but Richie knew he had to be quiet so he didn't piss off the lady who specifically asked for people to stay away.
There was a small open window that seemed to lead into the kitchen. Richie was tall and lanky, so he easily popped out the screen and slid through, landing on the ground like a ninja. He replaced the screen and began to look around the mansion.
There was almost no possessions, only a CD player in the corner of the kitchen, a plate in the sink, and several pieces of paper on the table.
Richie stepped closer to look at the drawings. It looked to be a hobby of the lady who lived there. They were intricate and the artist spent a lot of time on them. There was a sunflower, a sunset, and what looked like a fanny pack, bursting with pills.
"What the fuck," Richie whispered, putting down the drawings. He walked to the master bedroom downstairs, curious as to why the lady would be sleeping upstairs when the master was on the main floor. To his surprise, there was a duffel bag sitting on the bed. That led Richie to confusion.
"Who the hell could be upstairs?" Richie thought, tiptoeing to the stairs and climbing up them, taking two stairs at a time. When he reached the room with the light spilling out under the closed door, he laid down and tried to peer inside.
There was no one on the floor. Richie slowly opened the door, slipping inside. His movements went unnoticed, as there was a boy in the room, facing away from Richie.
He was at a desk, scribbling away at a piece of paper. He was small, about a foot shorter than Richie, and was humming along to no song Richie had ever heard before. His dark hair seemed soft and had gentle waves that made Richie want to step forward and run his hands through it.
Richie walked a little closer, smiling at the boy, forgetting he was supposed to be quiet.
He stepped on a binder laying on the floor in the room, the plastic clapping together loudly. Shocked, the boy turned around, saw Richie, and his blood curdling scream filled the room.
