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The smell of burning hung heavy in the air, thick and suffocating, as though the very atmosphere had been poisoned. Lilly’s lungs were on fire, as if a small ember had somehow made its way deep inside her chest. After everything she had been through, she wouldn’t have been surprised if that was exactly the case.
Breathing in small, painful gulps of the heated air, Lilly shifted her gaze from the burning building – a shed, she corrected herself – to the pile of bodies below. Someone, in a panic, had tried to jump from the window but had been crushed by a falling beam. Others had managed to escape, only to die quickly from pain, burns, and suffocation.
Lilly couldn’t bring herself to think about how many more corpses were trapped inside.
She didn’t see Ronnie or Will, but with a sharp pang, she noticed Rich’s familiar jacket on one of the charred bodies, piled up like garbage. Lilly stepped closer, the heat searing her cheeks, smoke clawing at her eyes, making them water. She rubbed them, but only made it worse.
«He was here…» the thought raced through her mind.
Something cracked beneath her feet. Lilly looked down, and her breath caught in her throat. Glasses. Marge’s glasses! The bright crimson splashes of blood on the lenses stood out sharply against the yellow flames licking at the Black Spot.
"Your friends were very tasty. Almost as tasty as dear Matty and little Susie," the voice said.
Lilly spun around, instinctively raising her dagger in defense.
“You! It was you!”
His eyes widened in feigned shock, as if she had personally insulted him in some horrible way.
“Me?" Pennywise chuckled childishly. "Believe me, darling, I didn’t start the fire. I may be a monster, as they say, but you humans are no better than me.”
Lilly shook her head. Someone else started the fire? But… who? And why?
“Take, for instance, my newly found beloved daughter,” the clown continued, paying her no attention. “She spent years waiting for her dear ol’ Papa, bringing me tasty-tasty little children on a silver platter. Oh, such a good girl she was.. too bad she ended up picking the wrong side.” Pennywise shrugged indifferently. “Oh, by the way, she begged me not to touch you. ‘Don’t hurt Lilly!’ she screamed while I tore her apart. Heh-heh.”
Lilly’s stomach churned. The guilt flooded her, burning like acid. Despite being consumed by the monster's influence, that woman had loved her. And Lilly, with pain and sorrow, admitted to herself that she had loved her back, Mrs. Kersh was like a mother to her. She had tried to protect her. But Lilly didn’t listen. She never listened. The last thing she had done to the only adult who had ever been kind to her was slash at her with a dagger in fear and run away. And now, now she was gone too.
Lilly trembled. She was gone. Rich was gone. Marge… her dear Marge, whom she had ignored for months... And Ronnie, whose father she had, in essence, condemned to death on the electric chair. Lilly and Will had never had the chance to become close friends, but she liked the boy. He was a good friend. Kind, smart. Like Matty… Oh, Matty... Now they were all dead.
She threw the dagger aside. The monster’s eyes quickly followed its trajectory before locking back onto her.
Pennywise raised an eyebrow in surprise.
“Take me.”
The clown was oddly silent just... watching her.
“Take me!” Lilly repeated, her voice rising, “Kill me, eat me, I don’t care! You’ve taken everything from me. EVERYTHING.”
The creature smiled. It was an oddly normal smile, a thought flashed somewhere in the corners of her weary mind: the smile of a friendly clown, ready to give a child a balloon. Something about that made Lilly’s stomach turn.
Pennywise’s nostrils flared, and he inhaled deeply, sniffing the air.
“You’ve always been a special treat for ol' Pennywise,” he purred, “I saved you for dessert.”
The creature took a slow step toward her, his strange gait deliberate as he inched closer. Lilly wanted to run, but something kept her rooted to the spot, refusing to let her move. He was coming toward her, swaying playfully, his gestures resembling those of a real circus clown... if it weren't for the subtle precision of a predator lurking around the edges of that charm. He had complete control of the situation.
“You know, that damn turtle chose you, my dear Lilly,-” he mocked maliciously, pointing at her favorite bracelet. “-сhose you to destroy me, but, ah, as you can see,” he theatrically gestured with his gloved hand to the bloody scene around them, “it didn’t quite work out. Everyone in town thinks you’re crazy. Your mother hates you. All of your friends are dead. And it’s all your fault.”
Tears streamed down Lilly’s face, dripping off her chin and splattering onto the ground. The creature was right. It was her fault. She had dragged everyone into this nightmare, never giving up the dagger, never protecting them. She couldn’t save anyone, just like she couldn’t save her father. She was no better than the monster before her. She was a killer. Lilly Bainbridge, the psychopath. After this, they’d lock her up for good now. Death was better. Calmer. There were no pills or straitjackets. No smell of alcohol, needles, and doctors. She wanted it. She wanted this thing to take her. Then she would be with her friends again, with Matty, with dad…
“It’d be so easy to just grab that pretty neck of yours and drink you up like a milkshake,”, Lilly was drenched in ice-cold sweat, Pennywise’s grin widened. “Or… or I could slit your belly open, pull out your guts, tear you to pieces, and marinate you. Make you just like your dear old daddy. Like father, like daughter, right?”
He was close. Too close. Towering over her. Lilly froze, squeezing her eyes shut, bracing herself for the bite. She was ready.
Yet nothing came.
She opened her eyes in confusion. His burning gaze met hers.
“But where’s the fun in that?” he whispered conspiratorially, his hot breath brushing her face. The smell of blood, sewage, and something ancient, timeless, and deeply, deeply malevolent, invaded her nostrils. No popcorn or cotton candy, no circus scent that Lilly had expected. The creature no longer hid its true nature; Lilly could feel that, in some strange way, It trusted her.
“Please,” she whimpered, her voice barely a whisper. “Just take me.”
Pennywise shook his head sympathetically, extending a gloved hand to her face, and gently wiped away a tear that was about to fall from her chin. The gesture was absurdly intimate, almost fatherly.
Had little Ingrid ever seen Pennywise like this? Was the real Pennywise a good father? Did he ever stroke his little girl’s cheek the way this creature was now stroking hers?
“Oh, but you will live, Lilly Bainbridge,” he murmured almost lovingly. “I can’t say it will be a happy life... or even a life at all, after what they’ll do to you.” He smirked darkly.
Lilly flinched, but his gloved fingers gripped her chin firmly, forcing her to meet his gaze.
“But you will live long enough. You’ll remember all the pain you caused those around you. That’s my gift to you, dear Lilly. Even when your mind is half-gone, and you won’t even know who you are or where you are, you’ll remember what a bad daughter and friend you were. Somewhere deep inside your consciousness, you’ll weep for death and relief, and maybe, just maybe, ol’ Pennywise will come visit you again. After all, we’re friends, aren’t we? It will be our little secret. Between you”—he pointed at her and himself—“and me.”
“No, no, NO, PLEASE!” Lilly screamed, struggling free from his iron grip, but instead of running, she dropped to her knees, clutching at the hem of his costume. “TAKE ME, I BEG YOU! YOU DAMNED CLOWN!”
Pennywise laughed, a cruel, guttural laugh, one that spoke of a creature that had never known love or kindness, its behavior void of any trace of the fatherly affection that had been there just moments before.
He was the devil. Evil made flesh. A world-eater who wanted only one thing: to feed on pain and fear.
Lilly’s body jerked in a fit of desperate convulsions, sobbing loudly and repeating only one thing: “Take me!”
“Well, well, my dear,” he said, deceptively mournful, as he lightly patted her head, as if she were a stray dog. “Oh, but look at the time, I’m really sorry, I have to go. You were such a pleasure to feed on. We’ll see each other again, let’s say... in 27 years? Or 54? Hmm? Oh, and don’t try to end the fun yourself. You won’t succeed. Trust me. Heh. Farewell now."
The clown’s laughter filled the air, its echoes lingering in Lilly’s ears for many years to come. And then, suddenly, the sensation of his costume beneath her hands was gone. The clown had vanished, as if he had never been there.
And then the time had resumed its normal course. The sound of engines grew louder, and concerned voices filled the air.
No. No. No!
Lilly scrambled toward the place where the dagger had fallen. She grabbed a stone, her hands trembling. The blade no longer glowed, the stone dull and lifeless in the firelight. She held her breath, squeezed her eyes shut, and, despite the clown’s warning, dragged the tip of the stone across her forearm. Scarlet blood splattered across her pale skin, flowing in a steady stream. The pain burned, but she ignored it, raising her hand to finish what she had started—
But heavy male hands gripped her, stopping her from driving the stone into her skin. Another set of hands snatched the dagger away. The adults were here. Lilly screamed. She screamed. And screamed.
Someone shouted something she couldn’t understand, and Lilly felt a sharp pain from a needle. Everything around her began to fade to black.
The last thing Lilly saw before consciousness completely left her was a red balloon, gleaming cheerfully atop a tree.