I Wasn't Careful (Bill Denbrough X Reader)

t e n

May 27
1989
4:47 p.m.

You dropped your bike on the lawn and walked into your house, hoping to avoid your mother. She was nothing compared to Eddie's mom, but seeing you all cut up and crying would definitely warrant a response. You closed the door as quietly as you could and walked to the bathroom.

"{Y/N}? Good, I was just about to ask you if-- Holy mother of God! What happened to you?!" She cut herself off and ran over to you as she exited the bathroom. She grabbed your trembling hands and turned them over, wincing at the glass in your palm. "You know what, you can tell me later, let's just patch you up."

She sat you down on the toilet and emptied the cabinet of all forest aid stuff. Then she approached you with tweezers and a small smile. You grabbed her hand, squeezing harshly as she slowly maneuvered the glass out of your flesh in an attempt to make sure no glass was left under the skin.

"Agh! Mom!" You cried out when she quickly pulled it out and cradled your hand to your chest, not minding how much more it began to bleed. "Why didn't you warn me?"

"You would've tensed up and it would've been difficult to get it out," she shrugged, standing up and leading you over to the sink. "We need to wash all the cuts, disinfect, and bandage, alright? The worst part is disinfecting them."

"Okay..." you mumbled, watching as the water in the white sink turned pinkish.

She took a damp rag to the few cuts on your face, quietly commenting about the handprint left there. It was moments like these that you were happy she was a nurse and new exactly how to treat you. After your uncle died, she went back to college, like she had promised him, and eventually graduated, landing a job at the Derry Hospital as a nurse. She was always kind to her patients, never pressured them to tell her how certain things happened, always kept to Doctor-patient confidentiality. Everyone adored her.

"Did I ever tell you that this exact same thing happened to your uncle?" She asked, distracting you from the stinging pain of the disinfectant. You shook your head and tore your eyes from the ground. "He had been playing around near dad's liquor cabinet when it fell and the bottles shattered. He got glass stuck in the same palm you did."

"Really...?" You asked. You knew your uncle was important to her, and she didn't like to talk about him since his death was so recent. He was her actual brother, but since was born so young, he was more like her son. Bubba, you liked to call him, was only five years older than you.

"Yeah," she chuckled, shaking her head at the memory. "He spent the night some time after and tried not to let me see. Your uncle was so silly, sometimes. When I finally got him to show the glass, he told me it had been there for at least a week!"

"A week?"

"Mhm," your mom hummed. "I took it out, cleaned the cut and all that. He cried when it came to the disinfectant, though."

"Bubba cried?" You asked, clearly surprised. Of all the memories you had with him, none of them were of him crying. "But he's so strong... I've always wanted to be like that. Smiling and confident and happy all the time. He was so happy, even when he was..."

"I know, sweetie," her eyes glazed over and she paused her movements for a moment. You had just noticed that she had already wrapped one arm with the bandages, moving over to the next. She shook her head and cleared her throat. "Your Bubba was the strongest man I knew. Even though the sickness hurt him physically, he never once made it known... And you're just like him, you know?"

"I... I'm like Bubba?" The thought brought tears to your eyes. Bubba was your idol, even though he was gone, you aspired to be like him. "For real?"