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“Get out of the way, get the fuck away!” Wentworth’s voice thunders through the hallway, pushing past all the people in the hallway. He doesn’t look at them, doesn’t even think about the fact that these were the same people who worked tirelessly to help him and his family, he doesn’t care.
He can only think about pushing himself past the people, getting to the loud yell of fear.
He recognises the sound instantly, it is hard to not recognise that sound after 13 years. His stomach twists at a sob.
“Mr. Tozi-” Someone yells but he doesn’t listen, pulling one of the officers back and running into the room. One last officer was obstructing his view, and he sprints past the figure. He immediately stills, eyes snapping to the only other figure in the room.
“D-Dad?” Richie whimpers, eyes going wide. Wentworth can feel his heart break at the sight, Richie looks so much worse than he did in that video. He was dirty, scrapes, cuts and bruises all over his tiny body. His shirt and pants were ripped and torn apart in various places. The Hawaiian shirt he was wearing that day was gone.
Instead it was torn apart, strips wrapped around his leg. Richie’s glasses were clearly broken, frame bend and one glass shattered.
“Richie!” Wentworth gasps, rushing towards Richie. The boy doesn’t react for a moment, too shocked before his dad drops to his knees, wrapping his arms around him tightly. Richie sobs, arms moving before he realises what he’s doing, burying his face in his dad’s embrace, hiding himself.
Richie cries, he simply cries, letting himself be held by his dad. And Wentworth holds him as tightly as he can, afraid that letting him go will make Richie disappear again.
*
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*
Two days ago
The officer was watching them warily, and Maggie sighs, sniffling as she reaches up to rub her forehead.
“They’re not leaving, sir, I’ve tried-” She mutters, exhaustion clearly present in her voice. Eddie glares at the man for good measure, almost daring him to make them leave again. The officer frowns, looking at Went and Maggie instead.
“I can’t make you leave, but I highly suggest you don’t watch it. It’s a disturbing video.” The officer tries again.
“We don’t care, Richie is our friend.” Stan says in a low voice.
“Stan’s right, we want to help him.” Bev adds, and the officer looks at Went and Maggie one last time, but both of them just shrug, still holding onto each other. Wentworth had his arms wrapped around his wife, rubbing her arm slightly to calm her down, but it wasn’t really working.
The officer eventually decides it just isn’t worth it, turning back to the computer and pressing play. Went’s breath hitches the moment the video starts, and Maggie gasps, tearing up instantly. At that moment none of them could even think about the rest of the Losers, they could only focus on the screen.
Their boy, their little boy was in the middle of the screen, dragged over the floor by someone. The person was wearing normal clothes, a clown mask fitted over his face.
Richie is barely conscious, eyes fluttering as the figure drops him in the corner of the room with a loud thud. Richie groans, whimpering. There was blood on the side of his head, clearly visible even through the thick curls, which was probably also the reason why he is so out of it.
The figure huffs, standing up and cracking his back before walking off camera.
Ben jumps as the loud sound of chains suddenly rattles through the office, and Bev presses closer to him, whimpering slightly in fear. The figure was humming under his breath offscreen, leaving just Richie on the screen. Maggie then realises that her son’s shoes are gone, leaving him with just his socks on.
He luckily still had his shorts and Hawaiian shirt, the blue and white one, but it was just a small comfort that she can’t focus on right now. It was just an observation, she couldn't get herself to be relieved. Richie groans again, eyes blinking open and darting towards the sound.
Another cling, the sound of chains and this seems to jolt up Richie’s body. He chokes on a breath, eye widening behind the glasses that were miraculously still on his face.
“G-Get away you fucker-” Richie stutters, voice shaky and movement sluggish. He tries to scramble backwards but the figure reaches out, grasping Richie’s ankle. Richie cries out, kicking out with his free leg. The figure yells in pain, dropping Richie, and Richie staggers to his feet.
He tries to run, but he can only take two steps before he stumbles again, crashing to the ground. He tries again, pushing to his feet and wincing in pain but the figure has recovered, crashing into Richie. Maggie cries out, slapping her hand in front of her mouth as Richie falls to the ground.
“N-No!” Richie screams, voice distorted. He growls, trying to kick the figure again but he’s faster than the boy, striking out. Bill winces, and Mike has to look away for a moment as the figure punches Richie in the face. Richie cries out, falling back as his eyes roll into the back of his head for a moment.
The figure grabs onto his shirt, pulling him up and Richie whines, bringing up his arms and trying to push the figure off.
“What h-happened to not hitting someone with glasses, asshole?” Richie mumbles, eyes fluttering as he tries to stay awake. The figure laughs, a high pitched laugh that sends shivers down the spine of the Losers. It was almost demon-like, void of anything resembling a normal human being.
“We got a fighter!” The figure cheers, and Richie swallows thickly. The figure suddenly stops laughing, bringing Richie closer. “I hate fighters-” He hisses, dropping Richie and reaching for his left ankle. Richie screams the moment the figure twists his ankle.
“Oh my god-” Maggie hiccups, tears flowing down her cheeks as the figure on the screen growls in frustration, trying again and ripping another scream from Richie’s throat.
“S..s-stop-” Richie sobs, trying to pull away from the man, but the man is sitting on both legs, too far away for his arms to reach. The figure tries to pull hard again, causing Richie to choke on a scream, still trying to pull his leg back. The figure growls in frustration, pulling something out of his pocket before stabbing Richie in the leg.
Someone, Maggie doesn’t even know who, yells in surprise, but all she can focus on is Richie’s face contorting with pain and surprise. The figure huffs, pulling the knife back, and standing up. He kicks at Richie’s ankle, pulling another scream from Richie but the figure ignores it.
Richie sobs softly, trying to curl into himself and pressing desperate hands on the bleeding wound on his right leg.
Went averts his gaze, squeezing tears from his eyes. The figure walks over to the chains, dragging them towards Richie and snapping one end around a hook in the wall. He grabs Richie’s ankle, forcing another tortured yell from Richie, and snapping the other end around the appendage.
The figure straightens up, walking to the camera. And the last thing they heard was the same disturbing laugh, before the screen cut to black.
*
*
*
Present day.
“H-How did y-y-you..-” Richie hiccups in his dad’s embrace, unable to finish the sentence. Went squeezes his eyes shut for just a second, before almost reluctantly pulling out of the hug.
“The police did, don’t worry about it, you’re safe now.” His dad whispers, brushing away the tears lingering on Richie’s cheeks. One of Richie’s eyes was swollen significantly, where the man, Robert Gray as the police has identified him as, has punched him in the video. That was three days ago.
They received the tape one day after Richie went missing.
“Mom?” Richie mumbles, trying to look into the rest of the room, but his mom isn’t there. Wentworth sighs, getting Richie’s attention again.
“She’s on her way to the hospital, you’ll see her soon,” Went promises his son, and Richie nods shakily. He starts crying again, letting himself fall against his dad’s body. Went doesn’t hesitate to wrap Richie into a hug again, glancing around as two officers approach him, glancing at both him and Richie.
“Ambulance is already outside, medics should be here in a moment,” One of the officers says, glancing at the chain. “We’ll work on getting that chain off.” He adds, and Went can just nod silently. Richie stays completely silent as they cut through the chain, as close to his ankle as possible.
But with his ankle still swollen around the metal, they can’t get it off completely. Went just focuses on comforting Richie, almost not noticing when the medics arrive.
“Hey Richard, my name is Jonas, can you tell me where you’re hurt?” One of the medics asks softly as he approaches the two. Richie sniffles, trying to compose himself before turning his head to glance at the paramedics warily.
“‘m ankle hurts, and my leg,” Richie mumbles, tears leaking down. Jonas nods patiently, glancing down.
“Is it okay if I look?” He asks, and Richie nods, turning his head back.
“Did ya see his mullet, son?” Wentworth murmurs in his son’s ear in a strange accent, and despite the situation, Richie snorts softly, cracking a smile. “Bloody old innit?”
“That’s terrible-” Richie mumbles, and Wentworth gasps in shock.
“Ya traitor, I taught ya everything ya know.” Wentworth huffs, but stops as Richie whimpers in pain, tensing in his hold. “Everything okay?” Went softly asks the paramedic, but Jonas nods.
“He should be safe to move to the hospital, his injuries aren’t bad but they do need to be treated, and I want an x-ray for his ankle.” He says, standing up and glancing at the exit. “Unfortunately the staircase is too narrow, but we’re sending a second ambulance here with a special gurney, it shouldn’t take more than 15 minutes.”
“Can’t I just carry him?” Went asks as Richie tenses in his hold at the mention of having to be here longer. Jonas nods almost reluctantly.
“You can but we don’t usually recommend it-” He says.
“Then we’re getting out of here, I refuse to stay here for any longer than we have to.” Wentworth huffs, glancing down at Richie. “Are you okay champ?” He asks, and Richie nods silently.
“Just get me out of here.” He whispers, and Wentworth nods, sliding his arms under Richie’s knees and back, carefully lifting him up. Richie whimpers softly, allowing himself to relax in his dad’s arms.
“I’ve got you, Rich, I got you.” Wentworth murmurs, and Richie nods in his father’s chest, allowing his eyes to close as his father carries him out of the basement he has been trapped in for the last 3 days.
*
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*
“Ri-” Maggie starts, but Went immediately shushes her, gesturing to Richie. The boy was still in his arms, eyes closed and breathing softly in his dad’s chest.
“He fell asleep on the way here, didn’t want me to let go.” Wentworth explains himself, walking further into the hospital room. He sits down on the hospital bed that they have already prepared for Richie, and Maggie sits down next to him, tears in her eyes as she stares at Richie.
“Oh baby boy.” She whispers, and Richie stirs slightly, blinking his eyes open, wincing in pain as he does so.
“M-Mom?” He whimpers, reaching out for her. Maggie bursts out in more tears, nodding frantically.
“I’m here baby, I’m here-” She sobs, grabbing Richie’s hands and shuffling as close as she can and pressing her forehead against Richie’s. Richie cries silently, struggling to keep holding onto his mom as they both cry. Maggie doesn’t even know how much time is passing, but she doesn’t care.
But she pulls away the moment Richie winces in pain, her eyes going wide.
“Where does it hurt honey?” She whispers, wiping away the tears gently to avoid hurting him even more, but he still winces slightly.
“F’cking ever’where.” Richie mutters, and Maggie frowns at the language, causing Richie to crack a small smile.
“Language hun-” Maggie jokes, touching the tip of his nose briefly. And Richie swallows thickly. Both Maggie and Went look up as one of the doctors walk in, glancing at Richie for a moment.
“They’re ready for the x-ray-” She says, and Richie tenses in his dad’s hold, whimpering.
“Don’t go.” He whispers, hand latching onto his dad’s arm. Maggie reaches out, shaking her head.
“We’re staying with you.” She smiles, and Richie nods shakily.
“Promise?” He rasps, and this time his dad nods.
“Promise, I’ve got you.” Wentworth says, because he wasn’t about to let Richie go again. They had to pry his little boy from his cold hands if they wanted to. So he tightens the grip on Richie as they led him towards the other room. Went can barely process what happens afterwards, mind whirling as he just tries to be there for Richie.
They take photos, showing that Robert Gray didn’t succeed in breaking Richie’s ankle. The wound on his leg was too old to be stitched, but would be okay if Richie just took it easy until it healed. He had various scrapes, cuts and bruises all over his body, and two bruised ribs where Robert kicked him.
His face was a mess of black and blue, and his nose was broken but didn’t need to be reset luckily. And Went only dared to relax a little bit when Richie was sound asleep in the bed.
“The Losers are still waiting, they wouldn’t leave,” Maggie smiles softly as she walks back to the bed, where Richie was curled up. He has an IV taped to his arm, giving him everything he was deprived of the last 3 days. Several more wires that served a purpose Went wasn’t all too interested in learning about right now.
He can only keep holding onto Richie’s hands like he promised, watching their boy sleep, safe.
“They can come in for a moment, but he needs his rest,” Went says, glancing up at Maggie. The woman walks over to Went, wrapping an arm around her husband and kissing his cheek for a second.
“He’s safe, we got him out,” She murmurs, and Wentworth can see faint tears in her eyes.
“I’m implanting a GPS in his butt once we’re home-” Went jokes, and Maggie tries to scowl but can’t help the broken laugh from escaping her throat.
“Don’t you dare.” She says, flicking the top of his ear. Went laughs as well, glancing back at the door.
“Let them in, it’s getting dark soon, I don’t want them going home so late.” Wentworth says instead. Maggie nods, kissing him again, and standing up to walk to the door. Richie stirs, eyes blinking open for a second and squinting.
“Dad?” He rasps, wincing in pain. Went immediately scoots closer, squeezing Richie’s hand as Maggie opens the door.
“I’m here Rich,” He says, and Richie closes his eyes again, too tired to keep them open, but some tension washes away. Went smiles softly, holding onto Richie’s hands. “I’ve got you.”