WHEN A NIGHTMARE WINS.

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DEAD BOY (book one).
°•        CHAPTER NINE        •°

"        WE ALL HAVE OUR PAST.       "

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THE GRIFFITH HOUSE SEEMED TO TAKE HOLIDAYS VERY SERIOUSLY. Daxton could smell Jo's cooking since he woke up, a wonderful scent that drifted through the house. He had to inhale a few times as he tugged on summer clothes instead of pajamas before he remembered what was in store for the day - The Fourth of July. He wasn't really a big fan of holidays, especially considering how hot today was, but he chose a red shirt that matched Charlie's blue one. It seemed festive enough. But if Daxton thought the red, white, and blue decorations Lia let Lucas help her string up in the backyard were too much, he was in for the surprise of a lifetime when he saw how Derry handled it. Stores had sales on fireworks and sparklers, stands scattered that sold various fair treats, colorful balloons bobbing in the air, American flags waving in the wind, and a very long yet loud parade with some guy in the midst of it wearing the ugliest beaver costume.

The parade had already started when Daxton and Charlie meet the others in the downtown spot of Derry. They make sure to lock their bikes tight as they search through the crowd of happy people celebrating their Independence day for the Losers. Daxton felt himself scowling at all the joyful noises, but Charlie offered to buy him his choice of any treat they sold if he bore it, so he didn't return home in search of a quieter environment. He reluctantly stayed put where he was until they noticed the others gathering in an alleyway. The noises were so loud they almost bounced off the brick walls, but Daxton considered that a good thing when he discovered what Bill wanted to talk about.

The Denbrough boy's fingertips were lightly pressing against what looked like a missing kids poster sloppily taped on the wall as if whoever plastered it there was in a hurry. A black and white picture of a smiling child labeled as Edward Corcoran. Daxton's lips pulled down into a tight frown when he read the kid was only twelve. Everyone standing there, minus Richie and Eddie who must have departed to join the celebration for something, knew what the piece of paper meant. Edward Corcoran wasn't missing. He was gone.

"They said they found part of his hand all chewed up near the standpipe," Stan remembered in a quiet voice.

Daxton didn't think of the effect his words would have on Bill when he mumbled, "As if something ate him." But he didn't know whether to say someone or something. It wasn't like Derry was known for wild animal attacks. So with Ben's research and their shared experiences, it all had something to do with a clown. A clown was the center of their problems.

"He asked to borrow a pencil once," Ben confessed. Daxton swore there was some guilt laced in his tone along with the typical twinge of fear they all felt.

An awful noise that was louder than the uproar the parade was creating caused Daxton to flinch before turning his head curiously to see a marching band was passing, their uniforms a navy shade of blue. One of them was struggling to take their tuba back from the culprit who was none other than Richie Tozier, obnoxiously blowing terrible notes into the mouthpiece. The blasting sound made Daxton want to choke him with it but he rolled his eyes with a faint smile that was wiped away when he brought his gaze back to the poster.

It turned out to actually be posters when Bill peeled Edward Corcoran's poster upward. Beneath it was revealed to be yet another missing kid, Betty Ripsom's picture fading as time passed by. Now it was like she was only a memory. "It's like she's been f-for-forgotten about because Corcoran's missing," Bill stated with a hint of bitterness. Daxton wondered how many other posters were there beneath Betty Ripsom's, how many of them were layered, how many children were forgotten about like they were nothing every time a new one disappeared over the endless years.

"Is it ever gonna end?" Stan questioned aloud helplessly as Bill let Edward Corcoran's poster flutter down again to cover Betty Ripsom's once more.

"Anything to stop that growing pile," Charlie mused softly as if his thoughts matched Daxton's own.

There's one last blow of the instrument coming from the street before the band member managed to wrangle his horn back. "Hey, what the fuck, dude?!" Richie protested in defense with his hands thrown in the air as the guy huffed in annoyance and stormed away.

Eddie was unbothered by Richie's antics as he came around the corner of the alley with two ice cream cones in hand, which reminded Daxton that Charlie owed him a damn cone for putting up with this. "What are you guys talking about?" Eddie asked curiously.

"What they always talk about," Richie pitched in as he stumbled back to the group and took the extra ice cream Eddie held, taking a long lick over the cold vanilla.

"I actually think it will end, for a little while, at least," Ben announces his thoughts in reply to Stan and Charlie.

Beverly's hands rested deep in the back pockets of her denim pants she had rolled to her knees to replace shorts as she glanced in wonder at the boy next to her. "What do you mean?" She asked him.

"So, I was going over all of my date research and I charted out all of the big events," Ben started to explain. "The Ironworks explosion in 1908, The Bradley Gang in '35, and The Black Spot in '62, and now kids being..." He trailed off but the end of his sentence was clear. Taken, dead, forgotten about. "... I realized that this stuff seems to happen every twenty-seven years," he decides to end it with.

But Daxton can see Ben won't finish with his true beliefs when he notices how Bill's thin shoulders tense as his mind wandered to his missing little brother. Daxton can't start to imagine how he felt but he could see the desperate hope in Bill's eyes that Georgie Denbrough was alive, somewhere, and he knew he wouldn't stop until he found the answers. None of them could tell him what they all believed because no one had the strength to be the one to break his heart. Not even Daxton. He knew where the line was and he may be a massive dick sometimes, and the world would be a better place if the clown ever took him, but he wasn't cruel. He still held on to decent respect. He'd never dare to cross that clear line because he has morals, and somehow, people are surprised by that.

Charlie took a deep breath that broke the heavy silence no one else knows how to fill after Ben's story. Nothing seemed right to say, at least to Daxton, but somehow his foster brother knows what words are right because he's what they all needed to keep their tempers and panic equally leveled. A mediator. "Maybe it isn't best we talk about an, um," his voice dropped to a whisper as he pointed with his thumb over his shoulder to nosey, listening ears. "Clown in an open area next to posters of missing kids."

Daxton glanced at the opening of the alley to see different teenagers their age or older, trios of girls and boys, that kept taking sneak peeks at the Losers and snickered behind the palms of their hands. He glared darkly at the sight, fingers twitching as he prepared to flip them off, but Charlie quickly grabbed his wrist before he could make the move to lift his arm. "And we'll politely move on," he insisted when they take turns unanimously agreeing he was right, and they should discuss the creature personally. The last thing they needed was an audience.

The closest area they could find with fewer people that could overhear them and think they were nuts was an openly spaced park. They make sure to grab their bikes first so they aren't left unattended and Daxton drags his own across the wide sidewalk that guided them near the Paul Bunyan statue. Most of Derry's residents were so busy with the parade that they lose interest as the band of Losers gather in their more private setting. With only one wooden bench, Mike, Stan, Ben, and Beverly crowd it while the rest of them kick the stand of their bike's out so they can angle them into some kind of seat to lean on.

Daxton feels the left handlebar dig into the base of his spine from his position, but he only shifts uncomfortably and uses his bent knees to rest his elbows on where his cheek rested in the palm of his hand so he doesn't topple over in an entangled mess. He's sat in between Charlie and Bill, the latter opting to follow Richie's choice to sit in the piles of grass instead of his bike. Daxton inhales deeply to brace himself for the long talk he knows is coming about their deep-rooted fears. He knows he's afraid of heights but some of the others were so deeply stowed away, locked in a box inside his chest, that he didn't even know what was inside. And he didn't want to go poking at it because you don't jab a bear with a stick.

"Okay, so let me get this straight. It comes out from... Wherever to eat kids for like a year, and then what?" Eddie pondered in confusion. "It just goes into hibernation?"

"It's not a bear," Daxton offered flatly.

Charlie lightly tapped Daxton's ankle with the tip of his shoe as a warning sign to stop him from speaking further. "No, but maybe it has the habits of one," he pitched in. "Like, it does..." He licked his lower lip and chose his words carefully, again, to spare poor Bill Denbrough. "Whatever to the kids of Derry, raises hell, and then fucks off to wherever it came from for - what - twenty-seven years?" He checks with Ben who doesn't correct him and nods in response.

"Or maybe it's like... What do you call it?" Stan paused with his lips pulled into a deep frown as he tried to think of the word. "Oh, Cicadas. You know, the bugs that come out once every seventeen years," he supplied. Daxton fought the urge to shout or scratch his neck until it bled with how much his frustration was being boiled into anger. It wasn't a bear, a bug, or even a clown. It was a thing.

Mike had been quiet since they gathered in the alley, hanging behind them, with his hands awkwardly clasped together as if he doesn't know what to say. But he does now as he lets out a breath like it was caught in his lungs. "My grandfather thinks this town is cursed," he admits to them and draws their attention toward him. Mike shakes his head in dismay. "He says that all the bad things that happened in this town are because of one thing... An evil thing that feeds off the people of Derry."

"But it can't be one thing. We all saw something different," Stan argued.

"Maybe. Or maybe It knows what scares us most, and that's what we see," Mike disagreed.

The statement seemed to be correct, but Daxton thought back to the incident with It chasing him and Charlie. "But we're not afraid of our dog," he pointed out, genuinely puzzled. Daxton knew he had other true fears, one he wouldn't dare skim over, but It didn't seem to dare touch them just yet. But maybe he had with his foster brother, who suddenly found the blades of grass the most interesting sight in the world. Daxton recognized that look. He's using them as a useless attempt to distract him. "Charlie?" He pushed.

A weak laugh fell from Charlie's parted lips, so feeble it almost sounded like a wheeze. "Come on, Dax. We all have our past," is all he can breathe out. His gaze lifts until their eyes meet and oh, Daxton gets it. He remembers their talk about the shared trauma their parents supplied them with. He recalled when Charlie told him about how his mom fell into a hole after his father passed and dated a man who used her son as target practice. Daxton wondered if that had something to do with large dogs, but he doesn't push any further, not with their friends around, considering he could tell Charlie didn't want to discuss it with them there any further.

"I... I saw a leper," Eddie spoke up shakily. He swallowed a thick, growing lump in his throat. "He was like a walking infection."

"But you didn't. Because It isn't real. None of this is," Stan dismissed with slight aggression because he certainly doesn't want to talk about this anymore. "Not the dog, not Eddie's leper, or Bill seeing Georgie..." Daxton could see it was some coping mechanism of being anxious or terribly frightened, to deny anything was ever wrong in the first place. In other words, to ignore it until it goes away. But Stan draws in a shaky breath and decides to choke out, "... Or the woman I-I keep seeing."

A grin spread over Richie's face and he perked up, deciding to offer the most inappropriate question anyone could ask at that moment. "Is she hot?"

Charlie's mouth twitched and he slapped the palm of his hand over his forehead. "Oh my God, Rich," he scolded.

Stunned, Stan's head snapped towards Richie. His eyes narrow as he yells at him in irritation, "No, Richie, she's not hot!" His voice dropped into a silent horror. "Her... Her face is all messed up!" Stan cupped his hands over his kneecaps as his chest rose and fell at a rapid pace with each deep breath. Daxton and Beverly watch in concern at their friend miraculously having the power to calm himself down as she ran a hand through her short hair with a look of remorse. "None of this makes any sense. They're all like bad dreams."

"That's what it felt like," Daxton agreed. He crossed the leg It nearly managed to chew at even though he knew the scar it left was covered. "But we didn't wake up. It was real."

"I don't think so, I know the difference between a bad dream and real life, okay?" Mike pointed out with a shake of his head.

"Then what was it?" Charlie questioned Mike because he wanted him to feel included as they all did, to feel comfortable enough to tell them what he experienced. "Whether it was a bad dream or not... You saw something, too?"

There's a faraway look in Mike's eyes as he glanced at Charlie as if he was placing himself somewhere further away than here. Then he gulped, letting out the words stuck in his throat breathlessly, "Yes," which then led to his explanation. "You guys know that burnt down house on Harris Avenue?" A few of them collectively nodded. "I was inside when it burned down. Before I was rescued... My mom and dad were trapped in the next room over from me." Mike's confession brought him to becoming choked up but he doesn't stop there maybe because Charlie leans forward to press the palm of his hand over his knee. "They were pushing and pounding on the door trying to get to me... But it was too hot. When firefighters found them, the skin on their hands melted down to the bone."

Daxton swears a shiver had been never been so cold as it licked up his spine and leaves goosebumps in its path. He's seen the house Mike described only once or twice. It was barely standing, covered from the roof to the base in black ash. He swore it still reeked of smoke. He had no idea it was Mike's childhood home that took the life of his parents. Daxton knows those who survive a traumatic event end up loathing when they're pitied, but he can't help the feeling worm its way inside and take over the features of his expression, but there's no possible way for him to find the right words that'd ease Mike. There's no comfort for painful grief.

He's right because Mike refuses to acknowledge their stares of pity and gives a weak snort as his head drops. "We're all afraid of something," he stated with a waver in his tone.

"Got that right," Richie sighed. He glanced over his shoulder and Daxton followed his trailing stare to the stage put directly in the middle of the park. He guessed there must be some show for the Fourth of July as a few stage members were either decorating it with streamers of red, white, and blue or practicing some strange techniques with different props. A clown stood in the middle of it, but Daxton knew from one look it wasn't It. It was only a guy wearing some cheap costume possibly from Halloween, face decorated in even cheaper makeup.

"Why, Rich? What are you afraid of?" Eddie asks.

Richie slowly turned around again. He stared at the ground, the quietest Daxton has ever heard him be before he pushes his glasses up his nose when they started to slip. "Clowns," he finally uttered.

Daxton shut his eyes as a permanent memory of It played so many times in the few seconds that passed it brought a painful ache to his skull. He was afraid, so fucking petrified because everything was so wrong and none of them knew what to do yet. But soon, he prayed they would know how to start.

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Daxton's upper lip was stained a nice shade of navy blue from the few cupcakes he's dug into. Josie didn't believe in purchasing the cheap ones that the grocery store sold and made the goods herself so every bite of a vanilla cupcake tasted like it was made with love. He's barely even inhaled the beautiful scent of homecooked meals in his short life. Daxton often had to fend for himself before arriving in Derry so somedays he's afraid the plate will be ripped away from him, and he'll be back to eating leftovers from trash cans or swiping snacks from gas stations just to fill his stomach. Daxton never tried to get his hopes up and braced himself for the ultimate end, but there was always a twinge of hope. And that's what killed him in the end.

However, Daxton isn't going to let something like this go to waste. He knows they're going to eat dinner before rushing to watch the fireworks, also something he isn't so used to, so he loads his dinner plate with various foods, some still hot from the grill after being barbecued while the other dishes were cooked warmly in the kitchen once the plates are loaded on the kitchen table. The mashed potatoes practically melt in his mouth as soon as he has a spoonful in. Daxton has loved Jo's cooking since his first night in the house and nothing has changed yet.

"Try and hurry kids if you want to make the fireworks," Miles recommended to them. "But don't give yourself a stomachache."

"I can handle it!" Lucas declared as he worked his way through another cupcake. It's nearly gone after two bites.

Lia swiftly grabs a white napkin from the corner and turned her little foster brother's face towards her. "Hey, now, careful," she warned and wipes a spot of frosting that ended up smearing on the corner of his mouth. "You kids can't get too stuffed on treats and then run around under the fireworks. You'll be up all night."

"But I want another one too!" Haley whined. She's more full of energy than Daxton has ever seen her and that's probably because he saw her stuff sugar cookies decorated in rainbow sprinkles into her puffed cheeks.

Miles lets out a quiet chuckle under his breath. "Kids, Lia's right," he agreed as said girl was still struggling to wipe Lucas's face because the child won't sit still for her.

"Hey, I know today was a holiday, but did any of you find something to do? Anything interesting?" Josie questioned as she stirred the corn into a taller pile on her plate.

"Went to the - hey, stop it," Lia scolded Lucas whose lower lip stuck out in a pout. "Went to the store and picked up a blanket or two so we have something to sit on. Hey - I got some slushies with my girls, too. There was a special." She finally finished cleaning Lucas's face and rolled the napkin into a ball, dropping it onto the table where it slightly bounced.

"Wonderful," Josie commented, seemingly pleased Lia, who was as sociable as Daxton, went out with some friends. She moved on to Daxton and Charlie. "What about you boys, huh? You weren't home for lunch. I haven't seen you around a lot, are you still making friends? Going to the Quarry?"

Charlie takes the question. "We went to the parade today with the others," he says in a half-lie. They were there, alright, they just weren't paying attention because they were too busy talking about a clown haunting them.

"Others?" Miles echoed. "You mean Bill, Richie, Stan, Eddie - "

"Ben, Beverly, and Mike," Charlie finishes for him with the new additions to the Losers Club with a beaming expression.

Daxton wonders if their foster parents knew who Beverly Marsh was and what they thought of her, but they must not think too negatively about her, because they're only smiling. "That's amazing," Josie says excitedly. "I'm so glad you both are getting out."

Although Daxton is aware her words are more directed at him for making friends other than Charlie because it's so shocking he's managed to keep seven other friends longer than three days, he still adds on, "Yeah, and Charlie bought me funnel cake."

"How was it?" Miles asks with a knowing grin.

Fucking amazing, Daxton wants to shout but he keeps it subtle with a "Great", so he doesn't look crazy. Treats were a rare occasion in his life but he's never had a funnel cake in his life. After they split from their friends with talks of fear, Charlie dragged him around the main spot of town and kept his promise, letting his foster brother choose a snack. Funnel cake caught his eye and once he dug into the warm plate, he could have laid on the ground and accepted his fate because it was the best food he's ever had. The powdered sugar was perfectly sweet and decorated the sugary bread nicely.

The talk over dinner from there became less as they wait patiently until it was time to leave for the fireworks. Daxton was buzzing with excitement that he could hardly keep contained as they loaded in the vehicle. His nerves are still humming when they arrive at where the crowd has already started gathering in preparation and Lia finds them the perfect spot, laying the blankets she bought for them.

Charlie bounces on the heels of his shoes when he sees the decorative fuzz on the blanket of many different balls representing sports. "Really?" He asks Lia like he couldn't believe she specifically picked it out for him, to which she nodded happily.

It's perfectly sized for two of them, so it's Charlie and Daxton who take it as Lia shares a plain purple one with Lucas and Haley, leaving their foster parents to have their own. Daxton crosses his legs and props his elbows on his legs, keeping his chin balanced on his curled knuckles as he eagerly awaits like a little kid. It doesn't take long for the first one to take off across the sky.

Every frightening thought that had been crossing Daxton's mind about that stupid clown chasing them down had come to a halt and became the least of his worries. His eyes lit up brighter than a Christmas tree as sparkles of blue even brighter than the color of his eyes blow up to color the night sky with the loudest boom he's ever heard. Daxton's gaze is locked, watching in silent amazement as the glitter starts to fizzle out before another follows.

"You make me think you've never seen fireworks," Charlie joked with a gentle nudge to the other's shoulder.

It isn't like Daxton has lived under a rock his whole life. But he has lived in shitty houses with even worse families. He's heard fireworks, even seen the sparkles of a few through a window or if he was lucky enough, a porch, but never this close. But Daxton doesn't say any of that, instead choosing to bring a bright smile on his lips and shrugs sheepishly because he can ruin a lot of things but he doesn't want to destroy a moment of solace like this.

He's just happy. He can't stop grinning ear to ear. Daxton knows eventually he'll have to return to the nightmare of his life where It was waiting, but for right now, he was stuck in this perfect daydream with his head drifting in the clouds. And a part of Daxton wonders just how long this happiness will remain in the hopes it'll stay forever while the other half reminds him to enjoy it while it lasts because if the clown doesn't take it, he'll ruin it himself.

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author's note:

annnnd like i said, i'm back!

i didn't think this chapter was so fun but boy oh boy it's gonna pick up from here 👏 i don't think anyone's ready!

also give daxton as much funnel cake as he wants it's what he deserves!

thank you for comin to read! ❤️

- koda

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