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"keep me alive"
JUNE 24, 1989. 12:20 PM. DERRY, MAINE ______________________________ della's pov
stan and i rode home after that. with one leg throbbing and both arms wrapped around his torso, my butt hit his wheel a few times and led to further bruising. but, i'd never tell him that. he talked to me as he rode, and freaked me out when he'd go super fast over a speed bump. he didn't let me ride on the handle bars, and some part of me hoped it was so i could be against him.
we talked causally and he seemed to be nervous, stuttering in between and causing me giggle. too sweet a kid for even himself, he took my mind off my leg with different types of birds and the stories he'd make up for them. his favorite book was "i know why the caged bird sings" and he promised it wasn't because of the title, that was just a bonus. he told me how his curly hair takes him extra time to get ready in the morning and how he prefers to wear blue over red because it just "fits better."
the blue, bird boy that sometimes hiccuped when he talked to me was making me question the last 16 years of my life in a heartbeat. had this been what i was missing out on as i sat with gretta? my body inflamed on itself and humiliation hurt my insides as i thought of what i had said about my favorite loser's club in weak moments of peer pressure and silent judgement. holding myself to high expectations while seemingly dismantling my own morals for popularity. gretta was someone i always wanted to be better than in terms of kindness. but had that sort of competition led me to not being better than her in any way? we sat at the same level and blew different horns. we liked to act like we shared different experiences, and maybe we did, but gretta and i both liked to win. and being kind was never something to pine for. it was who you are. and maybe i was just as much a fake as eddie's medicine (for which he brought everywhere and no way could one 16 year old boy have so many medical issues.)
stanley uris was the gentleness i had wanted to be, and he didn't even need to fight someone for it.
"-and now we're here, are you okay?" stan's eyes went wide, and i could tell he believed he was bothering me. i shook my head fast and jumped off the bike quickly, fucking myself over as i fell to kiss concrete. "perfect." i groaned and rolled over. stan stood in front of me and suddenly i understood why he likes blue on him so much better. the suns glow hit him so perfectly and everything, literal and figurative, was outlined by golden shimmer. all i could see was him. my little crush was so stupid, and i felt stupider as i laid on the hot cement staring at him.
"im okay! im okay!" i hopped up fast and dusted myself off. stan's eyes jumped. "woah," he smiled, dragging out the last sound as he touched my shoulders. "let's be steady here. i could already hear you moaning about the bike to butt situation in the back." my cheeks flared up. "lets get you inside." i followed suit, stan took his time in reaching my door step. i frowned as we reached, knowing our time would end. would he invite me to hang out again? would beverly be there? my eyes dropped lazily as i tried to protect them from the sun, my unshaded porch providing the best sun tans when i wanted it, but the worst sunburns when i found myself outside the door a little too long, scared to go in. usually this happened when mama knew i had been out a little too late. but, obviously, i couldn't leave any parties before 9!
stan turned quiet, and suddenly i saw the boy in front of bowers again. nervous, and almost scared? a look of hope but also infinite disappointment without even trying yet. he was preparing himself, and it scared me for what. "w-would you like to swim? with us? obviously, i mean all of us- not just me and you-" i giggled and he looked me in my eyes quickly before finding interest in his shoes. "- at the quarry." he finished and before he could get the last word out i seemed to jump as his request.
"i'd love to, stanley." he smiled.
he left soon after that, and i'd be lying if i said i didn't stand in the same spot for a while, going over everything that had just happened down to the point of where he breathed in big before asking me to come. but now, i laid inside. in my room, my mind wandered across the universe and came back to me only sometimes. daydreaming was one of the better qualities about me and it provided me with the best opportunities of understanding myself and even, other people. perhaps making up stories and being able to stuff down my own feelings wasn't exactly healthy (but hell it didn't hurt.) it gave good leniency after my mother refused to let me walk to school alone due to whatever had happened to betty ripsom. and however her shoe got to the barrens.
i never questioned stanley why he was there, or why bill denbrough looked like he wanted to cry as he held it. i wanted to, and pushing my nails into my palm, i bit my tongue back in the hopes i wouldn't be pushing my luck and didn't. i wrote it off as me being nosy, and maybe that was where my faults came in. blissful in the fact i didn't have to know why they were there, and why it somehow regarded to georgie. my own privilege of getting to ignore the loom that would forever haunt the loser's club id never feel welcomed in.
dangling my own heart out of my body, my lungs collapsed on themselves and i suddenly didn't remember what i was daydreaming about. it went hot across my face and i couldn't tell if i had still allowed myself to be in the dream state of my life or if this had been a cruel joke by gretta. my insides swelled and my heart beat felt so loud my ears rang in my own head. my mind combusting like a dropped watermelon, i fell on the floor.
everything consumed in so much pain, it felt hard to blink as my sight became foggy. my eyes dropped like they did when i stood in front of stan, but as i reopened them, i never saw his little collard shirt with tan pants. i saw my own self, sitting as it bit it's own self apart and yelled some sort of explicits. moaning as ink filled my own skin and crossed my own little freckles, i saw my biggest fear.
my own self. my insecurities that plagued my feelings and judgements, of which allowed me to be alone for so long. and to ignore my new favorite group of people. i screamed and i did it until it felt like my own throat had been ripped out and left to quietly rumble. looking at myself, i felt like a bird broke down from freedom and i clawed at my own cage to GET OUT. but nothing worked.
with a flash, my own morbid body turned into something of a clown, with dark, red hair and dirty clothes before disappearing. the pain subsided and i sat there sobbing to myself. my body felt so sore that simply crying out made my lungs lurch forward and caused me to cough up blood. i couldn't believe i had survived whatever the fuck that was and my thoughts raced faster than me as i fell down into my living room after leaving my own room. i sat in despair. not only emotionally did i feel drained, but thinking of getting up in that moment as my knee ached and my intestines winced made me want to grab a knife and end my own life.
i laid there until my mother found me, and by then what was left of my pain went away. as if it never happened.
except the stupid fucking lump on my leg. and partly was i grateful because it showed that nothing that had happened was real, but stanley had kept me safe and alive.
