chapter sixteen
that's what the drugs are for

☼ ☽

All good things must come to an end. Jill Samson would be the first to admit that. Like in movies when you think everything is going to turn out all right. The characters go off in their own directions and experience things alone for the first time. The hero ends up with his damsel, and the side characters watch from afar. Everything seems fine. But then reality hits and you realize the climax hasn't even happened yet. And after the climax, things can go in so many different directions. The possibilities are endless. Everything is uncertain, and it will remain that way until the final minutes of the movie play out and the credits begin to roll.

As Jill Samson had already declared, she felt like she was living in some kind of movie. It wasn't one she necessarily liked or one that had treated her well. It wasn't the type of movie you'd watch to lift your spirits. If anything, as the minutes rolled on in Jill's messed up movie, the feeling of regret would consume you. Because as the scenes played out, you'd realize the movie Jill was stuck in was one that had chewed her up and spit her out like she meant nothing.

If Jill's life were a movie, there'd be a resolution. The hero would get the girl and live out their days with a smile on their face. Except, this wasn't a movie, and Jill Samson was no hero, and there most certainly was no resolution. There was just the now. The horrible now where Jill was forced to move on with her life without the one person who made her feel like she could breathe.

Now, don't get her wrong. Things were fine for a while . . . until they weren't.

The following days after she talked with her father and told Greta to fuck off were great. She grew closer to Richie and the two of them oftentimes hung around Stanley. Although, the Uris boy preferred when Richie didn't tag along when he and Jill went bird watching. Richie had scared off too many birds because he thought it was funny seeing Stan get red in the face. But Stan put up with it, because, believe it or not, he did enjoy their company. Jill and Richie even attended Stan's Bar Mitzvah and offered him a cigarette when he stood up to his father by claiming he was a loser. Stan, of course, declined the cigarette with a roll of his eyes, but nevertheless offered them a smile.

Jill found those times with those two boys refreshing. She, of course, still hated them from time to time (especially when Richie decided being annoying was his only personality trait) but she enjoyed their company. Sometimes she found herself regretting not befriending them sooner. It made her realize how much she had missed out on. She hated herself for that.

She let herself grow closer to her father, as well. She found herself laughing at his stupid jokes and looking forward to when he'd return home from work. Sometimes they'd have movie nights. Those were the times Jill felt the weight pressing on her chest being lifted. She felt herself smiling more and even laughing. She finally had her father back, and that made her grow warm.

And then there was Prudence.

Prudence Bates was a young woman in her thirties who owned the restaurant where Jill's father worked. The restaurant had been passed down in the Bates family, and Prudence just so happened to be the only one left alive. A lot of people in Derry weren't too keen on the fact that a woman owned a restaurant, but Prudence didn't let that bother her. She even went as far as to put a 'We Can Do It' poster in the restaurant window just to piss off the people who shamed her. Jill found that inspiring.

But you see, Prudence wasn't just the woman who owned Bernie's. She and David Samson had grown close ever since he began working there that summer, and they quickly delved into a relationship. And while that might have seemed normal for a separated man, David had been hesitant to tell his daughter. Much to his surprise though, after they went over to Prudence's for dinner, Jill wasn't against the idea of having to open up her heart for another person. She found it easier to pay attention to the words coming from Prudence's lips when she actually liked the woman. Hell, scratch that. Jill found Prudence fucking amazing.

In the last weeks of July, Jill let herself open up to Prudence, and she found it helped with the anger gnawing at her skin. Jill knew no one could ever replace her mother, and she didn't want anyone to. She knew there'd always be a hole in her heart where her mother's face used to reside. She knew she'd still feel her all around her when she walked through her house. And she knew she'd always miss her, but that didn't mean she had to limit herself from growing closer to other people. And once she realized that, she let Prudence in.

The two of them would go on bike rides and travel to Portland, Maine to visit the Old Port where they'd shop for knickknacks and dine at seafood restaurants. Jill liked those trips. And when they'd come back home, Prudence would drop Jill off and kiss David goodbye. That was when Jill found herself liking the fact that Prudence would be in her life for a while. She even feared she'd lose her.

It was that feeling of losing someone she cared about that came back to haunt Jill in the last few weeks of July. She found herself being consumed by the fear of being abandoned again. Those fears even haunted her in her dreams. Sometimes they were in the form of her mother, other times it was Beverly who was leaving her over and over again. She had even dreamt her father and Prudence had gotten married and moved away, leaving Jill all alone. And since Jill was Jill . . . well . . . she wanted those feelings to go away. So as the doubts and the anger and the fears came rushing back into her life, Jill turned to what had always kept them at bay—drugs and alcohol.

Never once in those times did she tell her father or anyone of the thoughts plaguing her mind. She feared if she did, she'd find out she was exactly like her mother. And she didn't want to put her father through that again. She had just gotten everything she could have ever wanted (minus Beverly) and she wasn't about to ruin it because of her stupid emotions. So she bottled it up so Derry couldn't see the scars it had left on her, and she turned to alcohol and cigarettes to numb the feelings. And it worked somewhat. As far as she could tell, nobody knew Jill cried herself to sleep every night. She could still be the person she had always wanted to be if she just kept the thoughts at bay. If she just numbed the pain, she'd be fine.

But if you were to ask Jill Samson how she felt in those heart-wrenching weeks—which felt a lot more like centuries to the girl—she'd just stare at you. She would give you a look that held all the answers to your questions, and yet, not even the universe could crack the code. And then she'd give you a smile and shrug.

That was what Jill Samson's life had become—a compilation of fake smiles and brief moments of freedom.

Jill tried not to think like that though. That was what the drugs were for—to keep those intrusive thoughts away. But sometimes they bled through, and one time, Jill found herself writing one final letter to Beverly. She wrote and wrote and wrote, pouring out all her feelings and frustration in hopes it would rid her of her anger and sadness. It sort of worked, but not as much as she had hoped. So she went on pretending she was fine . . . the drugs helped with that. Everyone else seemed to believe her, so she hoped that if she pretended long enough, then she'd start to believe herself, too.

In the meantime, Jill continued to spend her days and surprisingly nights with the boy, Richie Tozier, who could never shut his mouth even with his lips taped together. Sometimes Stanley would join them, but after his speech at his Bar Mitzvah, he was kind of banned from hanging around Jill and Richie because his parents thought they were bad influences. He went against their wishes sometimes, but most of the time he opted for bird watching instead of dealing with the two preteens.

That day was no different from the others . . . except it was the beginning of August now. They were almost freshmen in high school and Jill couldn't believe it. So, she tried not to think about the fact that she might have been entering high school without the one person she thought would be by her side her entire life. Instead, Jill focused on the shit she could control.

Jill decided to push away the thoughts of a new beginning, and fill those thoughts with the friends she did have. And as she woke up that day, she called up Richie and Stanley on the landline and asked if they wanted to go for a bike ride to the Quarry. Stan declined, claiming his father would not approve. Richie, however, agreed, and the two were off to the swimming hole for the afternoon. Jill had to admit, being in the water, floating around without a care in the world made her feel like a kid again; like that cruel summer never existed in the first place. But all good things had to come to an end, so when the pads of their fingers began to shrivel, the two friends decided to race back to Jill's apartment for some lunch.

Not surprisingly, Richie had cheated in their race back home by starting before Jill could even get one leg over her bike. The two of them raced down the streets, reveling in the way the wind felt brushing through their hair as they passed by the Kissing Bridge and headed into the main road. They made a detour so they wouldn't have to ride through Neibolt street, and before they knew it, Jill's apartment complex came into view.

Richie skidded to a halt and threw his bike to the ground then raced up the small hill. He planted his feet on the ground and threw his arms in the air. "I'm king of the mountain!" he yelled as a laugh tumbled from his lips.

Jill stuck her foot out on the asphalt to skid to a halt. "Richard Tozier, you absolute dickweed!" she yelled, shaking her head at the boy. She hopped off her bike and threw it to the ground before she marched up the small hill and lightly pushed Richie. "If anything I'm the queen and you're the jester that I have beheaded and thrown in the ocean for telling one of your stupid jokes. You're fish food, bitch."

Richie fell to his knees and gripped onto the fabric of Jill's blue track shorts. "I'm hurt," he cried, clutching his chest and pretending to wipe tears from his eyes. "I thought you were the J to my R. The Juliet to my Romeo."

Jill screwed up her face in disgust and peeled the boy from her body. She stepped back and straightened out the fabric of her track shorts then crossed her arms over her chest. "Thanks, Tozier, now I'm going to hurl," she groaned.

Richie gasped and dramatically threw his head back, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead. "Oh, fair Juliet, where did thy goeth wrongeth?" he whined. A weird noise escaped his lips as he collapsed to the ground. He closed his eyes and stuck out his tongue, pretending he had died.

Jill rolled her eyes and tried to scowl, but a small smile peeked through her exterior. "Congrats. You truly are an idiot," she sarcastically said as she clapped her hands together in a round of applause.

Richie scrambled to his feet and took a bow. A laugh fell from his lips as he approached Jill and nudged her shoulder. Jill shoved him away, but the smile on her face never fell. She found herself wishing things could stay like that forever like she could just freeze her life when her heart didn't feel so heavy. But things never worked out for Jill. Not completely. She knew all good things had to come to an end. As she tore her gaze from the boy beside her, something horrifying caught her eyes and that notion of an inevitable end revisited her.

Fear crawled under the epidermis of Jill's skin as she realized that floating in front of the apartment complex was a red balloon. She had never seen the balloon in real life before, but she had stumbled upon it in her dreams a couple times since the Losers' Club went their separate ways. And she didn't have to think too hard to figure out who had placed it there. She could sense it without even racking her brain. Because It or Pennywise the Dancing Clown as it apparently liked to be called had never left her subconscious. It was always there in the back of her mind like an afterthought. And she knew it was It who had placed the red balloon there for the two preteens to discover.

Jill swallowed the fear in her throat. "Hey, Rich—" she smacked his arm to gain his attention— "do you see that?" she asked as she stretched out an arm to point to the red balloon floating in the air.

Richie turned around and followed her finger to where she was pointing. He shoved his glasses up the slope of his nose then dropped his hand to his side. "You mean the . . . balloon?" he mumbled, his voice slightly shaking.

Jill nodded, letting her hand fall to her side. As soon as she did, the balloon began to move. It floated up and for a second the two preteens thought it might float away, but instead, it pushed open a door to a level of the apartment complex and disappeared into the darkness. That was when Jill realized what It was trying to tell them. She realized the level the balloon had drifted onto was the level where Beverly lived, and as soon as that dawned on her, her heart accelerated and her palms began to sweat, throwing her into a fight-or-flight response.

The instinct to run flooded Jill. She knew that was what had been embedded in her blood. Samsons didn't fight, they ran. She wasn't brave, she was a coward playing knight. But she couldn't be that right now. She couldn't fight because of the fear, she had to fight despite it, because this wasn't her life on the line, it was Beverly's. She had to shove past her fears and fight despite them in order to protect Beverly from that goddamn clown. She would have died for Beverly. It didn't matter if they were fighting or if Beverly was disgusted by her, Jill couldn't let anything happen to her. She wouldn't be able to forgive herself if she did.

So Jill pushed away the fear coursing through her veins and took off after the balloon. She raced up the fire escape stairs, ignoring Richie, who was shouting complaints behind her. She made it to Beverly's level and crossed over the threshold, then stormed through the hallway to the apartment she was searching for. She halted in front of the door leading to Beverly's apartment. Her hand was on the door, but she couldn't bring herself to push it open.

A second later Richie made it to where she stood. He was panting slightly and confusion was written on his face. "Do you think that . . . " he trailed off, his voice uneasy. ". . . Beverly is . . . "

Jill shook her head. "No, she's fine," she reassured, but it sounded more like she was trying to convince herself with her words. She huffed and slightly pushed the door open.

Richie wrapped a hand around Jill's arm. "Jill, what if It's still in there?" he asked, his voice dripping with fear.

Jill glanced at him. "It's Beverly, Rich," she mumbled. "I have to . . . " And she did have to. It was the only thing she knew how to do, because saving the people she loved wasn't a choice. She would always try to save Beverly. Always.

With those thoughts plaguing Jill's mind, she took a deep breath and pushed the door open. The door slammed against the wall, revealing the inside of the Marshs' apartment. Everything looked the same. There were still barely any decorations and the walls were mostly bare. It looked normal. Anyone else would have thought it was exactly that. But the air was thick . . . and the silence made goosebumps rise on Jill's skin. And then her eyes landed on the red balloon grazing the ceiling, and suddenly, a cold chill embraced her, sending shivers down her spine.

Jill tore her gaze from the red balloon, trying to swallow her fear. She exhaled sharply and took a step inside the apartment with Richie trailing behind her. She could hear his breathing speed up which only made her more anxious, but she tried to keep her mind focused. Instead of dwelling on the fear bubbling in her chest, she clenched her fists and looked around the apartment for any sign of a living being.

"Shit!" Richie all of a sudden yelped, causing Jill to whip her head in his direction. She saw him take a step back, fear plaguing his face as he shoved his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

Jill furrowed her brows in confusion. "What is it now, Richard?"

Richie looked at her, his eyes wide. "The balloon," he muttered, shoving a finger at something behind Jill. "It's moving."

Jill followed his finger and found the balloon floating down the hallway. Her palms began to sweat as her heart pounded in her chest. Jesus, she could really use a drink right now. But she didn't make a beeline to her fridge where she knew she'd find a bottle of wine, instead, Jill pushed past her subconscious thoughts and began following the balloon.

Richie muttered a swear but nevertheless followed after her. "Jill, this is exactly how you get killed in a horror movie," he whispered harshly.

Jill rolled her eyes. "What? Do you need me to hold your fucking hand?"

"You're scared too," Richie grunted.

Yeah, I am. Jill wet her lips and sighed. "Shut up," she muttered instead of agreeing with him. She continued following the balloon until it stopped in front of the closed door leading to Beverly's bathroom. The last time they were there a bloodbath awaited them. Jill wasn't sure if she wanted to know what was behind that door now, but she had to. She had to find out in case that thing got Beverly. She just had to.

With one final fleeting look at the boy behind her, Jill turned the knob to the bathroom door and pushed it open. As it creaked open, a body was revealed to be sprawled across the laminate tiles with a pool of blood surrounding them and a toilet lid discarded near the bathtub. As Jill took a step inside the bathroom and kicked the person over, she discovered this man was Alvin Marsh and suddenly her veins coursed with magma.

"Is that Beverly's dad?" Richie asked from behind her.

Jill clenched her jaw and nodded. "Yeah, it is," she muttered through gritted teeth. She didn't trust herself to say any more. She wasn't sure if she'd say the wrong thing and get herself worked up. And if Jill got worked up . . . she wasn't sure if she'd be able to stop herself from kicking the living shit out of Alvin Marsh.

There was only one thing Jill knew for sure: something bad had gone down. Jill knew something must have happened between Beverly and her father for the man to end up passed out on the floor with a wound on his head. She wasn't sure if she wanted to know what he had done to her, but if he wasn't dead already, Jill hoped the wound on his head was so severe that he'd eventually bled out. She wouldn't even bother to call the authorities either. Alvin Marsh deserved death, and Jill Samson would not be the one to aid him in a recovery. She might not ever lay a hand on him, but she would let him die and she wouldn't feel an ounce of guilt.

"So then where's Bev?" Richie suddenly asked, snapping the girl out of her rage-clouded trance.

Jill blinked and glanced over her shoulder to look at him with her mouth slightly agape. She didn't know where Beverly was. She wasn't sure if It had gotten her, but she knew something had happened. She knew it must have been something to do with that thing. It just had to be.

A sigh escaped Jill and she opened her mouth to suggest searching the apartment for the redhead, but before the words could tumble from her tongue, the front door slammed shut, sending an echo throughout the apartment. The two preteens froze and shared a look of fear as the sound of someone walking commenced.

Richie blinked and wet his lips. "There's somebody here."

"No shit, Sherlock," Jill spat bitterly in an attempt to mask the uneasiness in her voice. She shook her head a second later. She had to focus. If someone was in there with them . . . if It was there, they needed to be prepared for anything. They didn't have much to offer, but Jill had injured It once before, she could hurt it again. They could escape its clutches if they got a head start.

Jill nodded at her thoughts and began searching the bathroom for anything she could use as a weapon. She rummaged through the sink cabinets and her eyes stumbled upon the pair of scissors she had used to cut Beverly's hair. She would have done anything to go back to that moment, but she couldn't think about that right now. She had to think fast. So, she grabbed the scissors and gripped them in her hand. She shoved her hand forward as if she were stabbing someone to practice her aim.

Richie stepped out of her way. "What the fuck are you doing?" he muttered in a whisper. "What if it's It?"

"Then we kill it," Jill stated as she gestured to the scissors in her hand.

Richie furrowed his brows. "With scissors?"

Jill gave him a blank look before she began scanning the room for something Richie could use as a weapon. Her eyes landed on the abandoned toilet lid by Alvin Marsh's head, and she shrugged. "Just grab the toilet lid and be ready," she instructed as she pointed a finger at the toilet lid on the floor.

"Are you fuckin—" Richie began, but Jill was already out the door, heading toward the noise. He gave a small groan, grabbed the toilet lid, and followed after his friend.

The Samson girl tightened her grip around the pair of scissors and held them in the air, preparing to plunge the blade into flesh. She stealthily rounded the corner, entering the main hallway. Her heart was pounding in her chest but she tried to ignore that feeling and instead focused on the magma boiling in her veins. The anger made it easier to concentrate.

Jill entered the kitchen, expecting to see It and its blood-stained teeth, but she was sorely surprised to see who was actually standing before her. Confusion weaved through her features as she realized Bill Denbrough was standing before her dressed in his usual shirt and jeans. He was searching the connected living room, so he didn't catch the two preteens staring at him, but Jill saw him. Jill saw him, and then she saw red.

"Stenchbrough? What the fuck?" Jill spat as she lowered her weapon and stormed over to him.

Bill whipped around and stared at the two of them in confusion. "Jill? Richie? Wah—what are you guys duh—duh—doing here?" he asked.

Jill opened her mouth to reply, but Richie beat her to it. "What are you doing here?" he questioned, his voice bitter. He put the toilet lid on the ground and crossed his arms over his chest, but he didn't move from his spot, instead, he kept his distance. It was clear he was still pissed at Bill.

Bill glanced between Jill and Richie. "I ah—asked you first," he muttered.

Jill gave him a look and pursed her lips. "Really? What are we? Ten?"

Bill glanced at Jill one more time as if he were contemplating telling her the truth. His green eyes swirled with something Jill had never seen before. Maybe it was guilt. There was no way of knowing. Either way, he didn't let Jill figure it out before he opened his mouth and answered the questions swirling in her brain. "Bev—Beverly and I were go—going to the movies," he mumbled as he shoved his hands in his pockets and shifted on his feet.

"Oh," was all Jill could say. It wasn't like she was surprised. A part of her knew that was what he was going to say . . . she just didn't want to admit it. But now that she knew, she felt like shit.

Bill cleared his throat. "Wuh—why are you two here?" he asked once again as he steadied his gaze on the two and furrowed his brows.

"We saw a red balloon," Richie muttered. He came up behind Jill and locked their pinkies together as if to let her know that he was there for her. It made Jill feel a little better about finding out what Beverly was doing with Bill that past month, but she still felt shitty.

Bill's face hardened. "Beverly—"

"We can't find her. I think she's gone," Jill cut him off, her voice bitter and sharp. "And It or whatever the fuck it goes by probably took her, so we have to find the fucking thing or else It's going to kill her."

Bill furrowed his brows. "How do yuh—yuh—you know It took Beverly?"

Jill scoffed and shook her head. "Because it's obvious, you idiot!" she snapped, throwing her hands up in the air.

Bill took a step toward her. "Stuh—stop calling me an idiot."

"Why should I?" Jill bit out through gritted teeth.

Before either of them could say another word, Richie interrupted them. "Guys!" he yelled at them. "You might want to see this."

The two preteens whipped their heads around to find Richie standing in the hallway, waving them over, which confused the both of them. Neither Jill nor Bill had noticed Richie depart. They must have been too wrapped up in their argument that they hadn't noticed Richie whisk away. But neither of them cared to dwell on the idea. Instead, the two of them followed after the boy, weaving through the hallway to make it Beverly's room.

"I thought Beverly might be hiding or something so I came in here, but I found this," Richie explained as he shoved a finger at the wall.

Jill followed his finger and found what he was pointing at. Written on the wall in what appeared to be blood was a message from It . . . or whatever the fuck that thing called itself. Jill swallowed uneasily and trailed her eyes over the words staining the wall. You die if you try, she read inside her head as fear inflated in her chest. It really had taken Beverly . . . and now it was going to kill her. Fuck.

Bill shook his head at the words. "No, I'm not leh—letting this thing take anyone else," he muttered, his voice bitter and harsh. "So, no more be—be—being selfish. We're duh—doing this." He glanced at Jill as he spoke, his eyes giving away the real meaning behind his words.

That rubbed Jill the wrong way. She knew what he meant. She knew he was calling her selfish. And that pissed her off. "What the fuck does that mean? You think I'd let Beverly die?" she spat, her words like venom. "I would die without her, you fucking asshole."

Bill scoffed. "I don't even know wuh—wuh—why I try," he muttered as he shook his head. "You're always guh—going to be a buh—bitch."

Jill slammed the scissors down on the dresser and crossed her arms over her chest. "Excuse you?" she spat as she raised her brows.

A look crossed Bill's face and for a second it seemed as if he might walk away, but he didn't. He stood almost a little too still and glared at the girl in front of him. And then . . . he opened his mouth. "I've tried suh—suh—so hard to be nice to you, Jill. All suh—summer I haven't done anything to you and all yuh—yuh—you do is yell at me. Jesus Christ, I saved your fuck—fucking life. And I don't know wuh—wuh—what I did to make you so fuh—fucking mad at me, but I've had enough of this sh—shit. You want to pout, then fuh—fine, but I'm going to save Beverly," he spewed, his bottom lip trembling slightly.

Jill wanted to cry. Her emotions were starting to get the best of her again. "You really have no idea?" she asked, her voice soft and weak.

Bill shrugged and studied her face. "Considering I've duh—done nothing to you . . . yeah, nuh—nuh—no clue."

That was all it took for Jill's anger to slowly turn into sorrow. She felt the tears well in her eyes as she stared at the boy who had made her feel like second-best her whole life. She wanted to hate him. Really she did . . . but she didn't. She was jealous of him, obviously, but she couldn't hate him. Sure, she wanted to punch him, but he had saved her life and that counted for something. Bill Denbrough wasn't all bad . . . but he would always be better than Jill.

"I'm never the one, Bill," Jill muttered. She blinked back the tears, but one slipped down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away before anyone saw. "It will always be you, never me. You always have to do everything better than me."

Bill furrowed his brows as his face grew red with anger. "What the fuck are you tuh—talking about? Are you talking ah—about Bev—Beverly?" he questioned, his voice getting more hostile by the second. "Do you ruh—really think I'm trying to buh—beat you in suh—suh—some weird competition you made up in yuh—your head? I swear there's some—something seriously wrong with you. Yuh—your head's fuh—fucked up."

More tears spilled over her cheeks now. "Shut up! Take it back!" Jill shouted as she clenched her hands into fists.

"No, you're fuh—fucking insane!" Bill yelled back, his face growing even more red.

"Guys—" Richie cut in.

"Shut up, Richie!" the two of them snapped at the boy without tearing their eyes from each other.

Bill wet his lips and set his jaw. "You're a jeal—jealous bitch who thuh—thuh—thinks the world belongs to her," he spat, his words pumping kerosene into Jill's veins. "I'm not sur—surprised your mom left. I wuh—wouldn't have been able to deal with yuh—yuh—you either."

Maybe it was the alcohol in her system, but Jill felt like she was burning from the inside out. She wanted to scream. She had tried to learn how to control her emotions, but this was different. She felt like every single one of her atoms was bursting into flames. And she couldn't help but let the fire grow.

"Fuck you!" Jill finally grunted out, the flames of her fire spilling from her lips. But it was just a spill. Just a little spill.

Bill shook his head and took a step toward her. "No! Fuh—fuck you! All you care about is hating me!" he shouted, the veins in his neck protruding as he tried to control his breath. "Any time I suh—suh—say anything to Beverly you turn into a buh—bitch and take every—everything out on me! It's al—always my fault with you! You huh—hate me . . . just admit it!"

"That's not why I hated you!" Jill blurted out before she could stop herself.

Bill furrowed his brows in confusion as he searched her face. "Then why?" he asked hesitantly.

Because I love her. Because you're everything I'll never be. Because I want to be enough. Those were the explanations clouding Jill's head, but those words tangled around her tongue, enabling her from answering him. She didn't know what was going on. Her emotions felt like they were going off the rail. She wanted to cry and she wanted to scream. But before she could figure out what the fuck was going on inside of her, she burst into tears. And she wasn't just crying . . . she was full-on sobbing and she couldn't stop no matter how hard she tried to calm herself down. Then she stopped trying to bottle up her emotions and just let them take control. She knew she shouldn't have, but she didn't have a choice. The truth wanted to spew from her lips whether she liked it or not.

"Because I love her, okay?" Jill finally choked out before she could stop herself or try to think clearly. "I love her so fucking much it hurts. And I'm afraid. I'm fucking scared out of my mind!"

Bill took a step back in shock. "Wuh—what?"

Shit. Jill wasn't expecting to confess this to him. "When Beverly started hanging out with you, I could feel her slipping away and the thought of losing her like I've lost everyone else in my life killed me," she confessed quietly as more tears spilled over her cheeks. "Ever since we were little, she was all I had. And for her to suddenly have just moved on and left me behind . . . well, it sucked . . . and it hurt . . . and I was afraid if I didn't try everything to keep her in my life I'd be back to square one. I'd be alone."

Bill just stared at her. His face was unreadable.

Jill released a heavy sigh and wiped the tears from her cheeks. "I'm already a loser, but I can't be alone again. Being alone is like drowning but never dying. It's Hell. So that's why I hated you and that's why I didn't want you to be around Bev . . . because I was afraid, Bill. I still am."

He glared at her like he was about to curse her out, but then he did something that surprised her even more. He began to cry. He didn't burst into tears, but his eyes glossed over and his bottom lip began to tremble. Then he released a sigh and stared at her like he understood.

And it was then as he stared at her that Jill realized just how much they were like the metaphor she had made up in her head. Maybe people were just metaphors after all. Maybe that was all she was . . . a metaphor.

Because, you see, Jillian Samson thought of herself as the sun. She was bright and she could be powerful as well as fiery. But she was born from flames and raised with a heart full of rage. And Bill was the sea. He was magnificent, strong, and resilient, but he wasn't there to put out the sun's flames. He was the salt of the earth. He was no different from her. He was just a boy and she was just a girl. He hadn't tried to ruin her; he had tried to save her. Truth be told . . . they were just the sea and the sun searching for their own moon in a sky full of stars.

Bill blinked away his tears and wet his lips. "I'm afraid, too. I'm afraid to lose her. I love her, Jill," the sea whispered to the sun.

Her heart ripped at his words but Jill forced herself to nod. "I know," the sun replied, "but I've loved her longer. I loved her first."

"That doesn't mean she belongs to you," Bill muttered bitterly.

Jill clenched her jaw. "I know, dickweed. She doesn't belong to anyone, but I need her," she confessed. Her eyes were still burning, and she felt as though she might burst into flames. "When I look at her . . . it's like I see the rest of my life in front of my eyes. She is scattered around me like fresh snow or confetti or pieces to a puzzle. She'll always be someone to me . . . and I need her to be someone. I need her . . . because . . . she is like coming up for fresh air. Like I was drowning and she saved me. I'd rather die than be without her. That's all."

"That was really beautiful, Jill," Richie cut in suddenly, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He lazily clapped his hands together and nodded his head as the other two preteens glared at him.

Jill rolled her eyes. "Shut up, Richie," she sighed.

Bill turned back to meet Jill's eyes. His eyes were glossy again, and for a second, Jill thought he might cry, but he didn't. Instead, he squeezed his eyes shut and exhaled through his nose. His eyes fluttered open a second later, and the tears were gone. And then he did something weird. He smiled.

"I get it," was all he said.

A look of confusion crossed Jill's face. "What?"

"I get it," Bill said again. His voice was steadier now. "You tuh—two are like—" he waved his hands around for emphasis— "yuh—you know?"

Her heart swelled in her chest at his words. And then something even more obscure happened. A smile lifted onto Jill's face . . . and Bill smiled back.

But guilt still tugged at Jill's heart. "For the record, I don't hate you . . . anymore," she ended up saying before she even realized the words had left her lips. It didn't matter though because it was the truth. Over the course of the summer, Jill had stopped hating Bill so violently. And then he saved her and it was like she realized 'Hey, this guy isn't so bad!'.

Bill smiled wider. "I don't huh—hate you either," he muttered. A second later his expression softened and he looked down at the ground. "And I shuh—shuh—shouldn't have brought up your muh—mom. I know what it fuh—feels like to have a fuh—fuh—family member be . . . gone."

Jill nodded. "I'm sorry about Georgie," she said in a hushed tone. She knew what it was like to lose someone. Hell, she still missed her mom. She couldn't imagine what Bill felt like . . . especially since he still had this illusion that his little brother was alive. Maybe . . . they weren't so different after all.

Bill's expression hardened and he set his jaw. "We can stuh—still find him. And wuh—we can still save Bev—Beverly," he reassured as he reached for the scissors Jill had abandoned on the dresser and pocketed them. Then he looked back to Jill and gave her a small smile. "I'll huh—help you get the girl, Juh—Jill."

Jill only smiled back. She wasn't sure how she expected him to react, but it surely wasn't like this. But a part of her was overjoyed that she had so many people by her side. Never once did she ever expect to find solace in a bunch of losers, and yet here she was. Sure, everyone knew Jill would have rather kissed girls under the bleachers than go on a date with a boy . . . but she didn't expect these people she had known for such a short time to not even care.

But maybe that was the point.

Maybe there was no such thing as good friends or bad friends. Maybe there were just friends—the kind of people who stood by you and helped you not feel so lonely. Maybe those were the people Jill should have let in instead of building up walls around her heart. Those were the people she would have risked dying for; the people she would have wanted to live for. No good friends. No bad friends. Maybe . . . just maybe there were only people who built homes in your heart and followed you to the ends of the earth.

Richie cleared his throat, tearing Jill from her thoughts. "So where do you two idiots think this thing took her?" he asked, gaining the other two preteens' eyes.

"Neibolt," Bill instantly blurted out.

Richie furrowed his brows. "The Well House?"

"Obviously," Bill deadpanned. "Suh—So we need to get wuh—wuh—weapons and gather the others . . . then wuh—we'll guh—go."

Jill nodded in agreement as she tried to ignore the way her heart swelled in her chest. She needed to find Beverly. She had to . . . and she had to do it quickly. "Rich and I can get Stan and maybe a few of the others," she offered, looking to Bill.

Bill nodded. "I'll cuh—call Eddie and Ben. You tuh—two get Stuh—Stan and Mike," he instructed as he looked between Jill and Richie. "Then wuh—we'll all meet up at the huh—huh—house with weapons, guh—got it?"

A chorus of agreement was passed among the three of them as they all glanced at the message written in blood one more time before they raced out of the apartment. They sprinted down the fire escape steps until they made it to the place where they dropped their bikes. Jill and Richie got to their bikes first whereas Bill had to fetch his from a little ways down the sidewalk.

Richie touched Jill's arm, gaining her wide-eyed attention. "What happened to 'not wanting to die for these idiots'?" he asked, fear dripping from his voice. He didn't want to do this. None of them did . . . but they had to.

Jill furrowed her brows. "This is different. It's Beverly," she said without a doubt in her mind. It was always Beverly. It would always be Beverly. She'd do anything for her no matter the cost.

"Buh—Be there in twuh—twenty minutes at the luh—latest," Bill called over to them as he hopped on his bike and steadied himself.

Richie smiled dryly. "Good luck, comrade." He gave him a curt salute before he flipped him off with both middle fingers.

Bill shook his head at the boy and made an advance to turn in the other direction, but before he could take off, Jill stopped him. "Bill! Wait!" she shouted as she trotted over to him with her bike rolling beside her.

Bill looked at her in confusion. "Whuh—What?"

Jill bit her lip and glanced down at her red Converse. "I'm sorry," she muttered quietly. She knew they were pressed for time, but she had to tell him. She'd never forgive herself if something happened to him and she never apologized for being so . . . well . . . Jill.

Bill looked even more confused now. "What?"

Jill glanced up to meet his gaze. "I was a fucking bitch to you and you have every right to hate me, but you have to know that I'm sorry. I'm sorry I let my jealousy get in the way of us becoming friends," she sighed and tried to offer him a smile but it looked more like a grimace. "You're not that bad, Bill . . . and I'm sorry I couldn't see that."

Bill smiled . . . like really smiled. "Fruh—Friends, then?" he said as he stuck out his hand and gestured for her to shake it.

Jill put up her hand and laughed. "Woah there, Denbrough. This doesn't mean we're friends. It just means you and our band of idiots are going to save Beverly from that damn clown."

Bill scoffed at her, but a small smile still played at his lips. "Wuh—We'll find thuh—them," he said, referring to Beverly and Georgie.

Jill nodded but she didn't know if she believed him wholeheartedly. She knew they wouldn't find Georgie. She could only hope they would find Beverly on time. She sighed at the thought. "It wants us to find her, doesn't it?" she asked even though she already knew the answer.

Bill didn't nod or agree, he just gave her a look and she understood. "One huh—hell of a suh—suh—summer, right?"

Jill offered him a tight smile. "It's not over yet, Denbrough," she said as she patted his shoulder before she turned around and approached Richie. Richie gave her a curt nod then hopped on his bike and peddled down the road to Stanley Uris's house. Jill glanced over her shoulder one last time and watched Bill become a speck in the distance before she finally sighed and hopped on her bike then took off down the road.

But as Jill Samson rode, she only thought of one thing: all good things must come to an end. And as she continued to peddle down the road with uncertainty consuming her senses, she glanced at the clouds and she could have sworn the sky was falling.

a/n: ah the jill vs. bill showdown. they don't hate each other anymore, girls and gays. AND okay prudence will never make an appearance in this, but i love her sm (if you read my other books then she's basically lemon chadwick as an adult). she truly is the mother jill deserved and she's v precious to me. also!! two more chapters!! god, i'm not ready to let jill go ahh!! i'm truly grateful for anyone who reads this, because jill is so close to my heart and she just means the world to me, so thank you for loving her, too.

thanks for reading!