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    Summary

    “You might wanna sit down for this.”

    Richie eyed the chair, mind working overtime.

    “Why?” he demanded, borderline hysterical. “Is it gonna bite me? Is it gonna drag me to hell?” He waved a shaking hand at it. “Is it gonna turn into a pile of human teeth or fucking spiders or used needles or something?!”

    Stan made a considering face.

    “Okay, yeah… can’t blame you for not trusting this situation.”

    The room shook and Stan had the gall to just look annoyed at it.

    “Listen,” he continued, looking up at him. “You’re still in the deadlights, Rich.” He actually looked like he pitied Richie. “You're still in Neibolt.”

    Pile of human teeth be damned - Richie dropped into the beanbag chair.

    “Shit,” he breathed.

     

     

     

    A story about surviving (just barely), getting worse (pretty spectacularly), and getting better (with help).

    Language:
    English
    Words:
    122,859
    Chapters:
    4/4
    Comments:
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    Kudos:
    299
    Bookmarks:
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