I Am Not a Robot [IT 2019 Reader Insert]

02 | Broken Crutches & Broken Souls

     You pulled yourself out of the car before you gave a sad wave to Eddie, which he reciprocated as you entered the hotel you were residing at. Key card in hand, you gave a cursory nod and smile to the receptionist before you entered your suite, flopping down onto your bed. You bit your lip, trying not to burst into tears.

     You'd just arrived, and you already wanted to abandon your friends. And out of what? Fear? You should've overcome that crutch of yours a long time ago, considering your experiences. Shifting uncomfortably in your hotel bed, still fighting off tears, you reached for a bottle in your drawer.

    You may've hated alcohol, but sometimes, you needed something to fix that hollow part that still resided in your body. That hollow part, that there was just— something, missing. You traced your mouth with a finger, giggling slightly at a hazy memory in your head.

     You'd kissed someone during that summer but couldn't remember who in particular. All you knew is you felt something, that day. Other than fear, and whatever other sick, sad feelings you harbored.

    But you couldn't remember, and now you turned to the half-full bottle of scotch in your hands. You took a swig straight from the bottle, heaving as the liquor left a burning sensation down your throat. But that light buzz in the hollow part of your chest was enough to make up for the burning pain. Suddenly, your phone buzzed, and you picked it up with your free hand.

     Unknown Number: It's Beverly. Meet us at the library. Please.

     You hesitated. This could be another ploy to get you involved; but, it was Beverly. She wouldn't trick you, right?

    So, reluctantly, you kicked your shoes back on, shoved the scotch back into the drawer, and fixed your disheveled hair.

     If you were going to leave Mike and whoever else wanted to stay alone to fight, you could at least give them a goodbye.  A good one, this time.

     ◌◌◌

     You sat on the carpet, listening to Eddie ramble on. "Okay, so— what do you mean, that you've— seen us all die?" He gestured frantically at Beverly, who sat still and silent.

    "Yeah, 'cause I gotta be honest— that's a fucked up thing to just...drop on somebody." Richie continued. You smiled sardonically.

    Beverly wiped a stray tear from her cheek when she spoke, "every night since Derry, I've been..." she sharply inhaled, then, "having these nightmares—people in pain, p-people dying, people..." She tried to control her shaking body. You sighed sadly, reaching a hand toward her shoulder, but retracting it in fear she'd flinch.

     "So you have nightmares?" Eddie restated. "I have nightmares. People— they have nightmares!"

     "Pretty more these are more than just nightmares, Eddie." You whispered, shivering a bit despite the room being filled to the brim with warm air.

    "That doesn't mean that her visions are true!" Eddie retaliated, and you sighed.

     Beverly continued, shakily. "I've watched every single one of us this week..." she froze again.

     "You've seen every single one of us what?" Bill questioned, entering the room with Mike, looking disheveled. You chuckled dryly, trying to relieve the tension of the moment.

     "Looks like Mike and Bill had fun without us." Eddie elbowed you for the comment, but Richie snorted quietly.

    Bill lowered himself next to Beverly, and the redhead spoke up. "The place that Stanley wound up...that's how we end."