"It was... worth nothing."

What the hell did that mean? It had been a week since the last time Y/N had seen Pennywise, nothing to let her know It was there in the background - no nightly visits, no red balloons floating in the air in the gentle breeze and no abstract fear coming after her.

She had no idea where Pennywise had gone- maybe It had had enough of her constant blubbering of questions, had gone into a murder frenzy of all the kids in Derry, or maybe- just maybe- It had gone forever. She had wished it had been successfully the last one; the thought of putting a end to all the missing children would make Derry a better place in some cases.

It was a stupid thought, a thought she could only dream of- Derry was much more than just a supernatural old being- the people of this stupid old town were just as senile.

Y/N had spent most of her week doing things to get her mind off of the clown- spending time at work in her grandmother's florist, doodling when at home, reading or even listening to her Walkman, but to her unfortunate self, anything she saw on a daily basis, it just only reminded her of the clown.

"Bye Grandma! See you later!" Y/N called back to her relative, successfully being able to finish midday from work after not many customers.

"Bye dear, take care! See you next Monday!" Called back her grandma, going back to her normal routine.

After a hot day of not doing much than hard labor, Y/N thought the rest of this hot afternoon couldn't be wasted. She strolled back through the high street, walking past people with some recognizable faces and some with not.

Derry might one day get a reputation for gaining tourists. She thought to herself, imagining to think that maybe some day, this weird place would get popular. Maybe they just think this place is so haunted, it'll be used as a tourist attraction, she went through her bag to grab her Walkman, putting her headphones on; I hope I'll be well far away when that day happens - I want nothing to do with this place.

She had kept mainly to herself through her days alone - her mom and her and gotten into a massive argument a couple of days ago, so it had meant she had been coming home much later, avoiding each other was best.

Walking past the old cinema, Y/N looked to what films had been showing; Lethal Weapon and Batman.

God, as usual, nothing good to watch. It was a good thing she was thinking of heading back her way home; everything seemed so boring as of now, now especially with another few months before kids went back to school.

Y/N strolled back with not much speed of hurrying, she had the luck of knowing that hopefully, no-one would've been there to attack or harass her. Especially since Tracy Harris went 'missing'.

The posters of her face were strewn everywhere, no-one could get away from her annoying face, and the fact that Y/N was maybe the only one who knew where she was seen last, she knew it would've her own death to of told.

She was getting closer to her familiar neighbourhood, the smell of freshly cut grass entering her nostrils, a smell of smoke suggesting people were having barbecues in their gardens. I wish I could have a normal family. Thought Y/N, walking down the street with her house on that side, walking slowly as the afternoon heat was sweltering.

From what she could see, it seemed she had been the only one out on her street today, usually there were millions of kids out on their bikes.

Except for one.

She had heard the familiar voice of someone talking to themselves quietly, the squeaking of their bike was heard echoing along the quiet road. Opposite to her, walking slightly ahead, she could see Bill Denbrough, walking his bike.

She could just about hear what he was saying to himself, something he was struggling to say due to his stutter.

"He t-thrusts his fists against the p-post, and s-s-still insists he s-s-sees the--"

"Hey Bill!" She called over to him from the other side of the street, trying to greet him so he could've heard. Unfortunately, it looked like Bill had almost dropped his bike from her greeting, startled, his head turned nervously her way, only to see his shoulders relax knowing it had only been her. Y/N could just see in his blue eyes how relieved he looked to of known it hadn't been Bowers.

She removed her headphones, allowing them to rest across her neck, crossing the road to come towards him. "H-Hey Y/N..." he begun, looking embarrassed that she must've heard what he had been saying. "Sorry for scaring you like that," she joked, smiling to him, "I just wanted to say hi. How's your summer b-been?"

"... O-Okay." He seemed to hesitate the right words to fish out of his head before saying what was to come from his mouth, and it seemed like 'okay' was nothing like what he had been feeling. "W-What about you?"

Again, the word 'okay' was what she wanted to say, but that word didn't compare to how weird her break had been so far. She finally thought she had come up with the right word.

"... Mediocre."

Bill nodded, smiling as if he knew himself. There was something more to this that he wasn't telling her, and it brought a bit of hope to Y/N to think that it must've had something to do with a certain something that had been terrorising this town for centuries. I can't be the only person who can't not see It.

Yet, instead of wanting to question whether Bill had been having the same entity come to him, she kept that part shut off in her head.

"You heading h-home?" Bill questioned, looking over down the road to where her house was. "I was-- from work." Y/N replied, not sure on whether to tell him that she got a half day.

"Oh, you w-work at the florist. My mom g-g-gets flowers there." He said, and from the many times Y/N had remembered it, she knew that Bill's mom would come in regularly, but that was before Georgie went missing.

"Yeah, I know... hey-- I know this sounds weird, but I err-- wanted to talk to you about something."

I hope he doesn't chicken out of this. She hoped as they had begun walking along the street. Bill looked to her questioning her thoughts. "A-About what?"

".... it's err... really complicated-- just something's that have been going on."

Bill looked from her back to the rest of the street to where his house was, the look on his face was something more of surprise, not of what he was going to say, but from her words.

"Do you w-wanna... come to mine to t-talk about it?"

Y/N looked back to him, nervous about what she was about to do. Sell my body to the devil and expect him to come? Of course this was going to end with some bad repercussions. "I mean-- if that's alright with you? I don't want your parents to think something's up-"

"It's f-fine." Bill stated, walking ahead, leading Y/N to think she got the go-ahead, following with him until they reached his home.

So here Y/N was, sitting in a thirteen-year-old boy's bedroom at his desk, waiting for Bill to come back upstairs. The whole situation felt too strange to Y/N - it had been anyone else from the Loser's Gang, it would've been even worse. I mean, Richie? He would've insinuated something had happened for her to end up at his.

From waiting in his room, Y/N looked around, a room she was familiar with from the times she had tutored him. Everything looked the same; the same bookshelf with all the same dusty books, a Walkie-Talkie and a few posters here and there.

Y/N thought to the flowers that Bill had mentioned- they used to be littered around the entire house by Bill's mom, but now there wasn't a single one to be found not once.

It seemed like every bit of life had died when Georgie left.

She felt sorry for Bill, to live in a home where he didn't have his younger brother around. It must've hurt.

She stood to her feet, walking to explore since she hadn't heard much come from downstairs: Bill was making some drinks. She moved to his bedside. On one side was a large blue notepad sitting with one pencil, and on the other side, were some green Lego blocks, built to resemble what Y/N swore looked like a turtle.

Her thoughts flashed to what It had said to her, the memories flashed along her vision of being back in 29 Neibolt Street. "The old senile turtle did this all."

It looked like Bill had a talent for drawing too, for the first thing that popped in her vision was a pop of bright red, a flash to blood was what Y/N thought. She withdrew the notepad back, looking closer to see that the drawing was of a girl, a girl with fiery red hair, freckles and was drawn at her side.

Beverly Marsh. She knew of the girl, the girl that most assumed wrongly of and one that Y/N felt sorry for. She was a girl that stood out- hair red as a burning sunset, it was beautifully long. She remembered Tracy Harris being jealous of it, and damn right so, Y/N was too. The H/C haired female thought nothing on her stood out.

She hadn't seem to hear the sound of footsteps coming closer and closer to the open bedroom door, stopping silently behind her. She had almost dropped the book, her heart stopping when she turned.

It had been Bill, not It, standing with too glasses of freshly-made lemonade. His eyes were mainly trained on the notepad Y/N was holding.

She put it quickly back down, turning to him. "I'm so sorry-- I don't know w-why I looked into it--"

"It's okay..." he murmured, looking nervously to the ground. He walked past her, placing the glasses on the desk, Y/N following to go sit at the table.

Y/N took her own, sipping it through the straw, taking her back to the days of when Bill's mom made them for her, Bill and Georgie. Georgie loved them the most. They drank silence for a moment, the slurping of straws indicating the end of her own drink, placing it back on the wooden table.

"What did y-you wanna talk about?" Bill questioned after a moment passing of silence. Y/N had almost forgotten about everything and why she was here in the first place.

She exhaled heavily. "J-Just on some things, it's a bit awkward when I think about it now."

Bill blushed slightly, smiling. "I w-won't judge."

She relaxed slightly knowing she weren't going to be judged as much, letting in a deep breath before starting. These weeks have been... odd-- I don't know about you-- just, so much has happened, that I don't even know where to begin."

She paused, looking to him, beckoning for her to continue. "Do you think everything happens f-for a reason Bill?"

He looked taken back, a sad look on his face. He's thinking of Georgie. "I think."

"Me too... There's been some weird things that have been going on lately-- I knew Derry wasn't for the faint-hearted of people, but even they feel out of place. This place is... not what we all think it is. We think of Derry as old, decrepit, not good for any of us, but there's been... something that has been tying things altogether... something we're all bound to."

He perked up slightly from the edge of the bed. "What? You t-think s-s-something is out there?"

Yes, a killer eternal clown. "Yeah... I-I just wanted to say that- that's all."

He nodded in somewhat agreement, or just thinking she was mad. "Have you s-s-seen s-somethin'?" She paused, closing her mouth when she was about to burst out everything, but she kept it shut. "N-No, but I feel like something's there, watching, aware of all of us."

Bill went to open his mouth, but the creaking from downstairs brought their attention to someone entering, followed by the clicking of heels. "My mom's home." Begun Bill, but Y/N had already stood up, gathering her things.

"I'll get going then, sorry about all this-- I didn't want to drag you into something and worry you. I'll go. T-Thanks for the lemonade Bill!" She had already hurried out the door, before she heard Bill reply to her, hurry to sneak out without raising suspicion through the open basement door.

She hurried back across the street, now worried as to what she had just done, all because she couldn't keep her mouth shut.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Blood, so much blood.

The source of life that was littered around, surrounding and consuming. Pumping the organ of thousands that were all around, all walks of life, young and old.

Flesh, meat and bone, holding up pesky mortal lives one by one, all worthless, . Their souls, more nuisance than interesting, their flesh and fear were more tasty. Fear: beautiful, all of them had something to fear, and all was so much already.

The being of carnage and destruction, the stench of different scents were suffocatingly sweet.

Feast, destroy, consume. Too many to choose from, a delicacy of so many snacks.

Sweet, youthful, innocent, naive.

All wanting attention, stupid, stupid, STUPID! All coursing through to become one, yet always one stood out.

Strong. Pungent, .

Striking a familiarity, it was all so much; FEAST, FEAST, FEAST!

Yet, to succumb to tearing apart that soul was brought to cease. Weak, failure, destroy!

Growing stronger in smell came over like a dying wave of heat, begging to reach fulfillment. Can't.

The creaking and soaring of a never-ending eternal flame, it screamed to consume, the rabid beast of the pure form was wanting to be unlocked, freed to hunt and to get rid of this ache... this want.

Dark in colour, black and swampy, unclear to see through, yet large and expanded, needing freedom. Can't. Can't f*cking can't destroy!

Now closer, closer to taste, closer to reach out to, laying unmoving to this bleak world. All to compare from death, yet not dying, the organ soothing to hear. Soft, soft like snow, yet could melt easily. Her soul was what kept me from killing her.

Thump, thump-thump.

Continuing, sounding like a lullaby, calling to ease all pain.

Yet, needed to be killed.

Kill her, kill her and be rid of her! Now.

Not again, can't.

She laid calmly, chest rising and falling, H/C hair sprawled and fanning her face. She looks like her. Alive, and she is not. Her skin was as soft as her being, to caress skin more pure than to rip it to shreds. Stop, before killing her.

Dead, gone, yet replaced with another, she is here in another body.

Some joke dear brother of mine, old and senile to know of true knowledge. Brother of mine not worshiped, nor feared, not their God over living and dying.

Destroyer of worlds.

Feelings swell, some unfamiliar. It hurts. It hurts too much. Sorrow. No, must feel. She has gone back to the weeds where she belonged. Gone.

Her essence, sweet like hers.

Her voice, sweet like cotton candy, she was one to not kill.

Salty tears leaking from her E/C eyes, a small child at best, begging.

'They want to marry me off Penny! I c-can't m-marry a man I don't know!'

Sorry to see you suffer.

Should've killed, taken away the pain.

Not to see you cold and numb, wet and shriveled. Unmoving.

Unsaved, yet I saved .

Not again, not again.

Leave, before you tear her apart.

Leave the little bird to rest.

Rest.

To float in the clouds of dream.

A/N:

I wonder if you guys can guess what I just wrote about?

Let me know, it'll be interesting to hear your thoughts!

I tried my best in writing what Pennywise would think - short, unfocused, mainly just because of needing to feed.

See you soon and hope you liked!