Disclaimer: I do not own IT

A/N: WHAT IS UP, MY DUDES! FINALLY, I am so happy with this chapter, you have no idea. After a half year of almost no writing at all, I feel like I've finally been able to come up with the most productive chapter on this story I've had in a while. I recently watched IT - Chapter Two and, *spoiler alert* I loved it! They had stuck to the novel so well, though some details still didn't come to the screen. One thing I recalled being a little pissed about was the lack of Maturin, but I still loved the movie regardless. The scene with Adrian Mellon was so sad but so good. It was after watching the movie that I decided that it was time to get my shit together and continue.

While I have not read the entire novel yet, I still plan on basing it primarily off both that, though the movie will serve as its main setting.

Also, note that in the first part of this chapter, IT is referred to as a Glamour. I searched it up, but did not get any answer. However, considering how it is a synonymous word for "Illusion," I believe it is also synonymous with Dead Lights. Just a few heads up for that one in case you were confused.

I've begun planning for Chapter Two, and I've decided that, with some deliberation, it will be Vera Farmiga who will be the face-claim for adult Cassie Hayes. Considering how Vera Farmiga is the older sister of Taissa Farmiga, the face-claim for fourteen-year-old Cassie, I found it to be a perfect fit.

Blog: www . Wood - White - Writer . Tumblr . com

Chapter 16: Fear Is Worse Than The Ordeal Itself

Winter's grasp; cold and unnerving to the touch. It had already claimed the lives of one-third of the children in the town of Derry, as well as half as many adults. That could, however, not the cold season not be credited for. Certainly, the temperature served as a contributing factor behind a handful of the deaths that had taken place, but there was something else lurking in the shadows of Derry Township which few - if anyone - knew the existence of.

Maybe it would have been for the best if they remained ignorant towards the Glamour. A town filled with fear-stricken people would seldom lead to anything good, especially considering how it would only further Its attraction towards them. Fear was such a subjective concept, one she had scarcely understood herself, but she knew of it well enough to comprehend the kind of effects it could have on humans and animals alike.

It would make them act spontaneously without adding ration to the occasion, leave victims petrified to the point of paralysis, make a mother willing to abandon her children, and make a father willing to kill them. It would make them run, hide, seek shelter where there could be found none, pursue any means necessary in order for a glimpse of relief to show itself for them.

While she had witnessed those reactions countless times before, she had never been able to understand it herself. She had never experienced any of these impulsive sensations. Not the chills on her skin caused by anything but the low temperatures, not the sudden urge to run away, not inability to sleep in the night. None of those things had made themselves apparent to her. Fear, it was something she knew nothing of, despite knowing everything about it.

But she knew one thing; It relished in it. What all living things found disastrous and distasteful, It exploited it for its own gain as a means to provide flavor to the flesh. A parasitic exchange, one-sided benefits. It would hunt them all, one after the other, wasting time inflicting them with the savory sensation of fear before ultimately disposing of them.

She had seen it before, countless times. She had seen three-hundred humans die in front of her, eyes ripped from their sockets, blood gurgling from their mouths like pipes overflowing with water. They had killed each other with anything they could get their hands on; axes, branches, their own fists. They had strangled each other, maimed their bodies, skinned them alive, eaten their friends, their wives, their husbands, their children.

They had all been killed – KILLED EACH OTHER – because they had been consumed with F E A R.

But that was long ago. The few people who survived the ordeal somehow managed to reestablish the town of Derry, but she had not been around to witness it herself. She had been killed alongside those three-hundred people, with the last image she recalled being an ax raised above her head. It all went dark for what felt like a mere moment before she escaped her new mother's womb, screaming her lungs out due to the pain that still lingered at the top of her head.

Her Creator had made her existence a reoccurring one. One for each time the Glamour would return to wreak havoc on that unfortunate town that had been her home for the past centuries. And each time she had been born there, she would die not long afterward. Something would always be there to orchestrate her demise, and with something, she meant the Glamour. It would be there, killing her in one way or the other.

Her death, although it served a purpose, was inconvenient nonetheless. While she would always respawn decades later in the blink of an eye, she knew each existence would be short-lived. After all, she only had one purpose in life, and in living very brief time and time again, she fulfilled it each time.

Even so, while she never relished the thought of her own demise, she still wished to experience what humans called Life. She had been born again and again, died again and again, had a mother and often a father too, even siblings, yet she could never quite understand what made them function the way they did. She had tried asking her Creator the same question time and time again, but he seldom gave her the answer she sought.

"You will understand," was all he would tell her.

And so, she waited.

Once again, her mother had sent her out in order to retrieve wood for the night. Although it was near pitch-black outside, there was still just enough sun left to make out the shape of the woods. She had been reluctant at first, primarily because she knew what lurked out there, but she had nonetheless complied. This mother was a strict one who was willing to resort to the use of the fire poker if she was defied. Like all the other people, this mother had been indifferent to the incident that had occurred earlier that year, when John Markson poisoned his entire family before killing himself with the same substance. It had caused quite a stir earlier on that year, but not long after, people forgot. They always did.

The temperature outside was cold and unyielding, reminding her that winter was on their heel. The further into the woods she ventured, the darker the skies turned and the colder the air grew. And so, without wasting time, she gathered as much wood as her basket could carry. Not intending to die again, her intentions were merely to get the wood and return to the house.

That was until she could spot drops of crimson liquid on the ground, leaving behind a prominent trail that was almost begging her to follow.

She already knew what this meant, and so she dropped the basket on the ground and pursued the bloody trail further into the forest. The air seemed to grow deathly still, even though the trees were swaying and the leaves were rustling. The further into the forest she went, the more visible and frequent the blood became. The sound of crunching soon became audible to her ears, reminding her of branch snapping frequently on an interval.

Already apathetic regarding Its endeavor, she made no attempt at keeping her steps inaudible. Her feet left behind loud noises, which she immediately knew would gain Its attention, as limited as it was whenever It was feasting. As expected, the crunching sound from the short distance abruptly came to a halt, though the shadow of a predatory growl replaced the silence.

She soon found that the sounds came from within the Well-house, one that was as ancient as the town itself was. It was a place that was practically demolished, with its walls being carved from the roughest of stones that were on the verge of falling together. The trail of blood led into the open hole in the wall, and she swore she could see torn and tarnished clothes discarded outside of it.

Then, a figure came into view from the shadows, one she had seen once or twice before already. White clothes that blended almost completely with Its skin, orange hair in an unordinary fashion, and a menacing smile that was drenched in blood and pieces of meat. A carcass laid rotting in its mouth, even though the body seemed quite fresh. A young boy's body hung from its jaws like a deer in the mouth of a lion.

"You truly are a sloppy creature," she stated, not raising her voice in the slightest to get Its attention.

Because she already had it.

The Glamour snapped Its eyes to hers, and for what felt like longer than it truly was, their eye-contact maintained contact. She recalled those yellow orbs in Its gaze, how they could kill or render anyone catatonic if you looked straight into them.

With the young boy's deceased body still dangling from Its mouth for another moment, it was dropped to the ground. The clown stood up, straightening Its back almost entirely, bent it backward, then forward with its arms dangling forward like dead weight. It smiled benevolently her way, as though expecting her to fall victim for Its façade like all the other children in town did.

"Who are you?" It asked, almost successfully concealing the hunger that reeked of It. It drew Its sleeves over Its mouth and giggled, though the faintest tug on Its grin revealed antipathy.

"We've met before," she answered, not understanding the purpose of Its question. "You already know the answer to your inquiry, so why do you ask?"

Its eyes glowed again, a mixture of disdain and interest perking. "Oh, I know it's you. I was merely asking because you have changed again." It let out deafening laughter that would put even the supposed 'Devil' to shame. "And still, after all this time, that lazy, old Turtle still thinks I'm that dumb. But tell me, how's Maturin nowadays? Still old and weary, yes?"

The girl said nothing, just standing there like the finest porcelain doll on display. Another trait It could never stand was the way she was unable to be read. Like a book without ink, just the blank pages.

Nevertheless, It persisted with Its inquiries, circling around the child with longing and irritation, trying Its best to conceal the way It felt upon knowing that consuming her was seldom satisfying. "Quite honestly, it's a shock that the Tower hasn't collapsed yet. I almost expected him to crush under the pressure, that lazy Turtle. Seems like he's holding on a little longer than I anticipated from him. How's it there these days?"

"My purpose does not depend on the All-Worlds, so the Tower is none of my concern. My place is here, as it has always been."

"Yes, yes, yes, it always is," It rasped through gritted teeth, stopping in Its tracks. "I assume that the old Fool is just as lazy as he always has been; sleeping in his shell while everything around him goes about, even at peril,"

"Unlike you, he does not underestimate his opponents,"

"But he must, sweet thing, he must. He also seems to overestimate himself, too." It mocked menacingly, placing a hand on Its chest and feigning what she could only describe as sadness.

It suddenly began to cry and sob, bowing down Its head until Its eyes were out of view like he was greeting royalty with too much sentiment. "He calls himself a benevolent creature when he sends a broken porcelain doll with no life and no fear for me to eat and maim as I please, over and over again so that he may see if I've changed? It's sooo sad,"

She remained unmoved by this display of mockery, standing there with her hands tucked behind her back. "I am not the only one who has changed," she digressed, ignoring his pettiness. "What name do you take now? Does it remain Robert Gray? Or something else?"

On cue, the creature straightened Itself from Its bowing position and it bent backward in an inhuman angle, looking as though Its intent was to break Its own vertebrae (even though it would most likely not inflict any lingering harm). It then bowed forward again, and took a sharp step towards her, mimicking several exaggerated facial expressions as It moved.

"My name is, and has always been, Pennywise the Dancing Clown, my dear," It threw Its arms up in the air and bowed down in a mockery courteous position. "Always a pleasure to see you again. How I've missed you SO SO SO SO SO much. I've longed for your company for the past twenty-seven years,"

It outstretched Its hand towards her with an inhuman length, but she did not make the gesture a mutual one. She merely stared at Its hand, her eyes trailing up Its arm to Its shoulder and finally back to Its face. She studied everything from the way Its face seemed heavily powdered with smashed chalk to the two red lines that descended down his eyes. Scarlet adorned Its nose as well, making Its appearance eerily appropriate to itself.

The way It mimicked the appearance of a human was almost … fascinating. However, behind Its inhumanely large teeth, the fangs that had claimed her existence numerous times before came into view.

"In the end," she stated calmly. "You will cease,"

Angered, Its hand suddenly latched onto her throat, forcing her above ground with a considerable length between her dangling feet and the dead dirt beneath her. Its nails began to pierce through the skin of her neck, drawing warmth from the veins inside of her. The urge to scream or fight, which she had seen countless times before on countless people, never struck her even once. She was motionless in Its grip, as though she was already D E A D.

If It wanted to, It could already kill her, by why waste it doing it so quickly when there were so many unique ways to dispose of her? It had made the people of this town burn her for witchcraft, torn her limb from limb, gouged out her entrails, feasted on her flesh while she was still alive and breathing. It was all tedious, so why not try something else?

Eating her was always distasteful because the lack of fear made it dull to consume. But It would make an exception this time. It sniffed her neck, trying to deduce if there was even the slightest trait of any sweet, sweet fear, yet found none.

It was disappointing, no doubt about that. Still, It shrugged it off with a laugh.

"The old fool hasn't changed," It sneered, stretching out Its free arm as claws began to grow to an Inhuman length. Much to Its chagrin, the brat's face remained as non-expressive as it usually did. No salty scent of fear as always, and it INFURIATED It beyond reason.

It placed the claws inched away from the girl's eyes, grinning. "You're his eyes, so how about I rid you of that burden for a while?" It leaned closer to her face. "Say 'Hi' to the Turtle for me." And with that, It proceeded to pierce the sockets with Its sharp claws, relishing in the way the body in Its grip began to turn and twitch as the blood began to descend from her face and to the ground. While It could hear no scream or scent which indicated that she was afraid, It relished in what little it could get. The warm blood pooled down and drenched Its claws, filling It further with ecstasy.

Killing something that was directly created by the Turtle was the closest thing It could describe as feeling victorious. Not only did it make that no good and old Turtle move for once, but it pained him. Oh, how it pained him to lose something he considered to be his direct offspring. Such a sweet sensation it was to be able to rip that sentiment off his shell time and time again.

After all, It knew she would be back, one way or the other, and It would be there to greet her – TO KILL HER – time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time and time again!

One day, It would have her. It would have her fear. It would have her scream properly.

It would have her.

Bill's home was in a remote part of the town, much like Cassie's own home. Neighbors who, although occasionally peeked through the curtains, remained indifferent towards what a group of children was intending on doing that afternoon. In a sense, it was convenient for ignorance to plague the town, but not if it meant that they would disappear without anyone batting their eyes.

But Bill's home, despite being lit up by the warm sun, seemed … empty. Hollow. From an ordinary perspective, it would look just like any Victorian home with two or three floors and the most mundane paint covering its exterior. However, upon inspecting it closer, Cassie saw that there was no warmth in that home. No love. No joy. Instead, it reminded her of those four walls she called her own home, where here parents would barely acknowledge her existence, more so now than usual, and where her existence would be left in the dark.

Her eyes trailed over to the Denbrough boy as he opened the door to his garage, and she wondered: was that how he felt whenever he was away from the rest of the gang? Alone? Isolated? Forgotten? Maybe he believed that, if he could find his younger brother, then everything would return back to normal. His parents would smile, the warmth in that home would return once again, things would become better.

It would be Heaven. A happy home, void of any nightmares or any Clowns. A home where everything was as mundane as could be, and that was how they yearned it to be.

What a happy place it would be.

Cassie snapped out of her idyllic daydreams as the sound of the garage opening pierced through her eardrums. As the rest of them scurried into the opening, the Hayes girl found herself standing there, almost mesmerized by the sensation of being alone in the sun. Although she could hear them talking, with a mixture of brief hesitation and a flicker of hope running through their voices, she found it hard to comply along with them.

She drew her hand over her bruised forehead, poking at the bandaged cut Bowers had left behind. She winced as she grazed it, almost feeling nostalgic as she recalled time and time again how she had ended up in similar confrontations in the past. Truth be told, she had a tendency to get into fights whenever someone pushed her limits, but this was different. This had been on behalf of someone else. Friends. People she genuinely cared about. People she wanted to protect. People she wanted to feel happy with, people she wanted would live long until old age claimed them.

But standing between them and that was a monster. The Clown, which were more or less the same things. Would she be able to keep them safe from that? Beating Bowers was one thing, but how the hell would she be able to stand on equal terms with some kind of demonic entity she could barely look at without freaking out on? Would she be able to do it?

"Hey, Cassie!" Beverly shouted at her from inside the garage, already comfortably (more or less) seated by the others. Deciding that it was time to take actions instead of pondering on what could or could not happen, Cassie hurried into the darkened space and pulled the garage door down, rendering the room even darker than before. Few curtain-covered windows made up for light-sources, and Bill had already set up a projector, which made it bright enough for her to see where she was walking. A map was placed on the wall, one she assumed displayed the current locations within Derry.

Cassie sat down next to Beverly and Ben, placed furthest into the corner of the crowd. Beverly offered her a sincere smile as Cassie accidentally bumped her shoulder into her, and for reasons unknown, Cassie found her cheeks warming up.

Bill placed one of the slides Ben had let him borrow, and up on the screen, Derry's sewer system appeared. It was a detailed map, highlighting every part of the system. It was complicated to follow at first, but after some quick glances, Cassie got a fair understanding of how it all worked together. The sewers were, in one way or the other, connected to all the marked places on the map.

"Those places," she began to inquire as she gestured to the marked spots. "They are where all those 'accidents' happened, right?"

"Yeah, no shit, Sherlock," Richie commented sardonically and rolled his eyes. "What else would they be? The places your parents get kinky?"

Stan rolled his eyes at the sight of his friend's unchanged immaturity. "Beep, beep, Richie. Now's not a good time,"

But Bill seemed almost oblivious to the bickering that was happening in front of him. Instead, he pointed to the map, his voice quivering more now than before as he located the place where Georgie went missing. "Look, that's where G-G-Georgie disappeared." He struggled to maintain himself but succeeded nonetheless. Thinking back on that day, that rainy horrible day, never failed to make him question whether speaking was inappropriate or not. "There's the Ironworks and the Black Spot,"

Cassie didn't know why at first, but the longer she stared at the image of those places, the more she felt …. Familiar. Like she had ... seen them someplace before. Perhaps she had walked past them without acknowledging it, or maybe she had seen them in one of Ben's history books the day they visited him.

IT WAS EASTER, AND CHILDREN WERE RUNNING AROUND ON A SEARCH OF EASTER EGGS IN THE PARK. THEN CAME THE SOUND OF SCREAMS FROM THE IRONWORKS.

THERE WAS A LARGE BUILDING IN FRONT OF HER, BURNING WITH COUNTLESS SHRIEKSECHOING FROM INSIDE AND SMOKE ASCENDING UNTIL IT BLACKENED THE SKY.

THE NIGHTCLUB WAS BURNING, FEW PEOPLE MANAGED TO ESCAPE. SHE WAS LOCKED INSIDE, ALONE. THE SMOKE DESINTEGRATED HER LUNGS, RENDERING HER GASPING FOR AIR UNTIL THERE WAS NOTHING LEFT FOR HER TO INHALE. HER VISION WENT BLURRY, AND A BLACK BIRD WITH BALLOONS ATTACHED ON ITS WINGS COULD BE SEEN OUTSIDE THE WINDOW, WATCHING THE EVENT WITH A SINISTER GLEE IN ITS EYES.

"Cassie? Are you okay?"

Her eyes snapped open as the sound of Ben calling her name broke her out of her daydreaming. She looked over at the Hanscom boy with bewilderment plastered on her eyes like bandaids. "Sorry, was I gone or something?" she asked him, confused as to why she had suddenly felt like she just woke up from a nap.

"You looked … tired," he answered, concern evident in his tone.

But all Cassie could do was to readjust her focus and lean forward to get a better image of the map. Questions remained about what the hell happened to her, what the hell she saw. She had the attention-span the range of a teaspoon, but this sort of daydreaming was … disturbing, for a lack of better words. Her body felt cold as shivers ran up and down her spine, and it felt as though no amount of cozy blankets or coats could warm her up.

"Everywhere IT happens, it's all connected by the sewers," Bill explained. "And they all meet up at the –"

"The Well-house," Ben concluded almost immediately, realization dawning upon him as it did with everyone else.

"Where is it?" Cassie asked, trying to shake off the cold. "Where the hell is that place?"

"It's in the house on Neibolt Street," Stan answered, looking hesitantly over at his friends.

Cassie instantly recognized that name, as well as the place. She had been there before, almost stepped into it for the sake of a thrill, and just now did she find out that it was the place where that fucked-up Ronald McDonald lived? She felt her stomach sink into the pits of her abdomen to the point where she felt like vomiting on the floor. "I think I know the place,"

"You mean that creepy-ass house where all the junkies and the hobos like to sleep?" Richie asked as though the answer was hard to find, which nobody knew whether was a deliberate act or not.

Beverly readjusted her position in her seat as she glanced back at the map, feeling cold as she recalled all those times she had walked past it while trying to avoid Greta on the way home from school. "I hate that place. It always feels like it's watching me."

"At least now we have a pretty authentic reason to avoid it even further," Cassie got up to her feet and breathed through her nose, feeling a heavy weight settle itself on her shoulders as she tried to recollect her thoughts. She didn't know why, but she was scared. Hell, she felt more scared now than she had ever done before, even the first time she actually encountered the clown. Her chest began to pound against her ribcages to the point where it felt like they were about to break through the bones.

But as frightened as she felt, she tried her best to keep her composure intact. She couldn't afford to act afraid, not now. As she turned back to the others, mouth open as she tried to shape her words, her eyes landed on top of Eddie, whose breathing-pattern was becoming considerably faster. He had pulled out his inhaler into his mouth in an attempt to try and calm himself, but it wasn't working.

"That's where I saw it," he croaked with what little stability he had left in his voice. Insignificant drops of sweat were forming on top of his forehead. "That's where I saw the clown,"

And their suspicions were finally affirmed.

"Tha-Tha-That's where IT lives," Bill confirmed, vocalizing what all of them were thinking.

The Hayes girl easily noticed how color drained from their faces as they now understood where Its whereabouts was located. Whether it provided them with an advantage or not, she couldn't easily tell. At one side, they now knew where it resided, making it possible to somehow – by some means – defeat it. On the other hand, it was a plan she doubted any one of would want to go through with.

It was a sentiment she shared with the rest of them.

Eddie took another puff with the inhaler, though, like the first time, it failed to improve his breathing.

"I can't imagine anything ever wanting to live there,"

Stan's last comment seemed to become the trigger that unleashed it all.

"Can we stop talking about this?!" Shaking uncontrollably like he was bellow freezing, Eddie got up to his feet and partially covered the screen behind him, casting a shadow over the light. His skin was beyond bleak at this point, and it was still a marvel his balance was retained. Everyone looked at him, equally concerned for his well-being as they were puzzled. It came as no surprise to anyone that he, most of all, was afraid. They all were, but he had a knack for expressing it more openly. None of them could blame him for it.

Eddie waved his inhaler as he ranted. "I-I-I can barely breathe! This is summer, we're kids – I can barely breathe – I'M HAVING A FUCKING ASTHMA ATTACK!"

Although she knew that his sense of dread could not be excused, this could not continue. Cassie stepped forward towards Eddie and placed both of her hands on his shoulders, forcing her to look at him. "Eddie," she called him, her face restrained and equally sharp as she addressed him. Eddie looked at her briefly each time his pupils flickered over to her, as his state of panic seldom made it possible for him to focus. "We're all scared, but you need –"

"If you tell me to calm the fuck down, then I swear I'm going to –"

"Eddie, if It feeds on fear, then you're practically providing It with appetizers right now!" She hadn't meant to shout on him, nor was it intentional to sound angry. If anything, Cassie felt her own fear reeking of her, which was why she could not allow Eddie to make itself a target. The fear was what drew It, and right now, the last thing she wanted was for Eddie to become the next target.

Without warning, Eddie ripped himself out of her hold and threw his hands at the map. "I'm not doing this!" he shouted and threw it to the floor, leaving only the view of the sewer system intact.

"What the hell? Put the map back!" Bill demanded, but Eddie just shook his head defiantly.

That's when the weird shit started happening.

The lights from the projector began to flicker, changing the room's atmosphere between light and dark. Everyone looked over at the mechanism, curious as to what was causing to behave erratically. Cassie stepped back from the screen and closer to Beverly and Ben, suddenly finding herself feeling increasingly uneasy about the situation.

"Bill, what the fuck is going on with your machine?" she asked, not looking away from the screen.

But Bill was just as confused as her, with no answer to provide with as he looked down at the projector.

At first, there was nothing on the screen. Just whiteness.

Then, pictures. Pictures of Bill's family. Pictures of his brother, of his father, of various family vacations they had been on together throughout the years. Baseball, waterslides – happy times he could seldom remember due to the recent events of his brother's disappearance. Those were the times he could still look at his mother and father the same way, see them smile and laugh as they used to before, but couldn't anymore.

"W-What happened? What's going on?" he asked, causing Mike to step forward and try to fix the mechanism. Nothing he did, however, seemed to change its behavior. It just continued going off on its own. It constantly displayed pictures of Bill's family during the time when they were happy – before It intervened and ruined it all.

The projector finally stopped at one picture in particular. It was taken one year ago, at his aunt's wedding. He recalled that day perfectly; the way the clouds were aligned, the warm sky that hit his face through the messy bangs his mother had tried to fix. Most of all, he remembered the joy he felt surging through his chest, being together with all of his family.

The picture then zoomed in at his brother, which struck Bill as a bullet to the chest to see him there so close. "G-Georgie," he whispered.

But then the projector continued to zoom in on Georgie's face. Again. Again. Again. Again. His brother's features became prominent, everything to the way his hair flickered in the wind to the wrinkles on his cheeks his smile produced.

"Bill?" Stanley looked over at his friend with his heart pounding a mile per minute. He wanted some kind of answer that could get even an inch closer to a plausible explanation, but he got none.

Then the focus on the screen began to change from Georgie to a woman Cassie could only assume was his mother. The pace began to quicken on the projector, closing in more and more on the woman's red locks. As if out of instinct, Cassie reached for both Ben and Beverly's arms and cautiously dragged them away from the screen.

And that's when they all noticed that it was no longer Bill's mother they were looking at. Her face began to change on the screen, her hair flickered as if in a movie, and a face came into view. A face they all knew too well to forget.

THE CLOWN.

PENNYWISE.

Cassie instantly covered her mouth with her hands, recalling her previous encounters with the inhuman monster. The memory of her mother's "suicide" still lingered fresh in her mind as though it had just happened yesterday. She remembered the blood soaking her floors, she remembered the horrible feeling of watching her mother's skin become pierced with the sharp blade that severed her throat. She felt like she wanted to throw up on the floor, but the fear she felt had paralyzed her internal organs to the brink of neglecting their purposes. Her lungs failed to expand, her heart skipped more than a few beats, her brain could not function.

She was AFRAID.

She was SO SO SO SO SO AFRAID.

Stan, Richie, and Eddie backed up in the room, screaming at a volume beyond deafening. "WHAT THE FUCK?!" Richie screeched as he clung onto Eddie, demanding an explanation none in the room could provide. "WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT? WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT!"

Eddie clutched onto Richie in return, holding onto him as though letting go could kill him. "I DON'T FUCKING KNOW!"

The flickering images started to reveal more and more of Its face, everything from the red and white make-up to that horrible overbite of Its. The longer they stared at it, the more they were consumed by the overall sensation of F E A R. Beverly held her breath for a moment, processing the image of the same monster that had terrorized her and the rest, before she knew how to act. She snapped her head to Bill, and demanded, "Turn it off!

Although she was beyond petrified, Cassie grit her teeth and snapped her focus onto Bill as well. "Turn that shit down!"

The rest of those who backed into the left corner of the room all joined in on the demand, but only Mike fulfilled the act. He rushed forward and kicked the projector down from the table, scattering the slides on the floor. Much to their chagrin, however, the machine didn't stop working as they had hoped to. Instead, the slides were now laying sideways, though the horrible clown was gone. It was preferable to what they had seen earlier, but it only lasted for a moment or so.

The lights continued to flicker, the distorted view of the clown came back. Cassie wanted to scream, to cry, to get the hell out of there, but her legs were frozen and not a single sound managed to escape her lips, much less a scream. She tried to breathe, but there was no air to get. She tried to speak, but there was no sound. She wanted to be tough, to step forward and stomp down on the damned thing until there was nothing left but scattered pieces. She was almost tempted to do it, but then the clown disappeared from the screen.

Everyone held their breaths (except for Eddie, who was gasping), silently praying to whatever God existed that It was gone.

Then I T erupted from the screen.

Stanley, who was standing closest, ran as fast as he could before I T could manage to grab him.

Everything was in a state of utter chaos. The clown was inhumanely large, teeth large enough to chew them to pieces on the spot. If I T had seemed threatening and scary before, then words could not describe how monstrous I T appeared now. I Ts size could compare to that of the Paul Bunyan statue in the park, if not slightly smaller and a million times as scary.

I T crawled towards them like a toddler incapable of walking, throwing I Ts clawed hands their way without ever touching any of them. None of them knew whether
I T was actively trying to catch them, or if I T was just toying with I Ts food for the thrill of the hunt.

Predatory snarls and growls erupted from I Ts throat like a beast. The closer I T got to them, the more delight I T seemed to take. Cassie tried to reach the others and get the garage gate open, but the second her eyes flickered to the side, she noticed it.

I T had backed Beverly into the corner, snarling at her with I Ts teeth on full display. Seeing her friend in danger, something sparked inside of Cassie. Whatever fear had once taken place in there seemed to vanish, and instead, anger took a hold of her. Absolute fury.

"Get the fuck away from her, you son of a bitch!"

By no means did she feel powerful enough to go up against I T like an ant against a boot, but she needed a distraction.

Without even thinking, she reached for her shoe, took it off, and threw it straight at Its head.

The thing barely made an impact, but Its head jerked just slightly to the side, averting Its attention from the Marsh girl, as though surprised.

Instantly, I Ts head snapped towards the Hayes girl. I Ts yellow eyes met hers, and all fear returned to Cassie's body in a matter of milliseconds.

She had seen those eyes before, those sinister eyes of I T. She had seen them countless times before, time and time and time and time and time again, but she didn't know where they came from.

Before the creature could make a move, a blinding light shone inside of the once-darkened garage and, as if the clown had never been there, I T disappeared.

I T was just … gone.