Henry Bowers

It was another day in Derry, Maine. All the children and teenagers were in their respective elementary or high schools, while the summer breeze made the classes longer and more boring. Everyone felt like they were melting in their seats under the overly warm sunbeams that streamed through the windows, so it was a collective relief that spread through the students' bodies when the last bell of the day rang. You left school with your usual charming and sweet confidence; you were a pretty popular girl in high school, and it showed by the way so many people greeted you warmly or said "bye" as they went out into the city streets and away from school. I mean, you were pretty, sweet, always dressed nicely, and you had good grades. As you made your way through the streets of Derry closer to school, a car, clearly speeding, appeared at the other end of the street, and in the blink of an eye, the car braked hard right next to you before a familiar face from school was seen lowering the tinted window of the passenger seat. Henry Bowers, the local bully of Derry, looked at you with his usual bad, but strangely charming smile, whistling at you as he raised his eyebrows before saying "Need a ride home, sweetheart?"

He asked with an arrogant tilt, clearly believing he was the big deal, a rather perverse smirk on all their faces, like a bunch of damn harassers. Your eyes drifted to the driver's seat, Belch was the one driving the car, after all, it was his car, Henry was occupying the passenger seat, Patrick with his head sticking out the window and a mischievous grin, and Victor was smoking in the back of the car just like Patrick, raising an eyebrow while staring at you with a cigarette on his lips.