Ｓｔｕｔｔｅｒ [ｂｉｌｌ ｄｅｎｂｒｏｕｇｈ ｘ ｒｅａｄｅｒ]

Time to Kill This Clown

I was still light-headed as shit. I was still in pain. I was still angry. I was still scared. But I knew I had to do this. 

Our pinkies were linked as we walked to the center of the giant sewer room. It was time to kill this clown. 

"I don't know what it is about my sister that makes her so different from the rest of us. But no matter how much you torment her, no matter how much you tell her we don't care, no matter how many times we fight you, we will always win. We all love her to fucking death, and if you try to take her away, you'll have to take me, first."

"Me, too."

"Me fucking three, you dirty ass bastard," Richie shouted, throwing what I recognized as a baseball at it. He barely hit IT, but he was angry as hell. He marched his dirty ass clown suit right over to me.

"You're so bad at masking your fear, (Y-n)."

"You little bitch, I am afraid. I'm afraid as fucking shit. But not of you. I'm afraid of losing who them. I can't even think about them gone. If I didn't have them, I'd be fucking dead. Eddie took me in. Stan is so fucking nice. Richie makes me laugh the hardest. Ben is my other brain. Mike is a protector. Bev is my human diary. Bill makes me feel some great ass feeling I can't describe. I love 'em all."

I gave everyone a reassuring nod as Bill said,

"Let's kill this f-f-fucking clown."

Then the fight was on.

Bills fingers tightened around Mikes gun. I could tell he was scared. We all were. But if I was anybody else, I'd have no clue. None at all. His mouth was in a straight line, no quivers. His eyes shot little bullets of anger.

He walked forward, only inches away. Pennywise did nothing. Absolutely nothing. It was just him standing there, his buck-toothed smile and his white-ass forehead, paint cracked from doing too much child-traumatizing.

"It's not loaded."

Bill had the barrel up to his forehead. 

"It's not loaded!"

He pulled the trigger. The click rang through each and every one of our ears. Bills tears stung my own eyes. It was as if he didn't believe Mike. Was it just to make sure it wasn't a lie? Did he have that much hope to save the little boy? I think deep down we all knew Georgie was...

Gone.

Black goop oozed from his forehead. Some of it splattered on Bills flannel. I was hopeless. Eddie was crying (because of me) and Richie was trying to get him to calm the hell down. Stan was still getting over the flute lady from earlier, Ben was fussing over Bev, who was checking herself for wounds, and Mike was shoving his hands in and out of his pockets looking for more ammo or something. I was just here. One last clutch of the necklace, and then I yelled, 

"Hey asshole, over here!"

He dropped the gun that was shoved in his mouth like a dog. His ugly eyes were stuck on me, and now he smiled. His teeth that could have been mistaken for tiny knives poked out of his mouth. Now he was just a foot or so in front of me. I drove my foot hard into his stomach. He was busted down to the ground. 

Mike was beside me like the flash with a pole, bashing it into his head. Bill was next, but the clown ass beat him to the attack. He stood there, holding him by the collar. He was choking. Choking out words.

"Let him go," I muttered. If my voice was louder, it would've sounded like pure venom. 

"Let him go!" I shouted, this time louder. Loud as hell. My voice echoed through the room.