FIRE AWAY.

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

" I'M NOTHING, ALRIGHT?
I DON'T BELONG HERE. "

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IT WAS SUCH A DIRTY WORD: ABUSE. It even felt foreign on Daxton's tongue. It tasted sour across the buds, and made him feel as if his mouth was suddenly stuffed with cotton. It was like it didn't belong in a sentence made by him. But here's what the papers read with bold leaders for anyone to see in the folder of his case. Daxton Shields was a victim of abuse. Ah, yes, another word he loathed. Victim. He was abused by his mother because his father never stuck around long enough to join her, other than the neglect, or whatever. That was no lie. He still had the faint, ugly scar on his face to prove it. Then the foster houses he was placed into, well, they weren't any better. It was as if every life he tried to live in a brand new town with a family never went well. But the funny thing was, Daxton wasn't pulled out of that life until he defended himself and fought back.

And so the question floating in his head remained. Had Daxton Shields ever lived a life where he wasn't abused? Will he ever live a life where he isn't abused?

The answer doesn't come right away. Maybe that's because Daxton is staring sharp daggers at the open folder on the desk in front of him. His caseworker, the woman responsible for his life until his eighteenth birthday, was a nice woman, he guessed. He's known her since he was only nine years old. Her name was Julia Baker and sometimes the way she managed to keep her hair swept in a neat bun without a stray hair out of place every time he saw her could push Daxton's buttons. It made him shift uncomfortably on the wooden chair. He hates perfect things too. Nothing in life should ever be such.

"Hmmm," she lets out a soft hum, eyes flicking over words on the report the Griffiths gave her the day prior. They had to have frequent meetings like this to be sure Daxton isn't getting pummeled or is the one doing the pummeling. Julia's gaze eventually lifted to meet Daxton's. "You know, I can't lie and say I'm not surprised. There's not a single complaint here."

She's only joking, but Daxton rolls his eyes. He's had a nasty attitude to the family since Nala body-slammed him at their doorstep months prior. "Come on, really? They don't tell you how terrible I am?" He traced the pattern on the arm of the chair with a small grin curling on the corner of his mouth. "All about how I wreaked havoc in Derry, spray-painted the pharmacy windows, tipped cows, shoved heads in toilets - "

"That's enough," Julia interrupted. She fought the amused smile that dances on the tips of her thin lips so he doesn't have the satisfaction or get any bright ideas. "No, Daxton. I think we could have one meeting where honesty comes from both of us, don't you?" He hummed an unsure noise as she laid the paper on top of the folder so Daxton can see the name Griffith on the top in bold letters. "Your last home in New Hampshire had much more to say. Negativity, mostly. I think I'd need a calculator to say how many times they reported you missing because you ran away before - "

It was Daxton's turn to cut her off. "Before they got tired of me? Or realized that the sociopath they made me bunk with would have killed me? Darn." He mocked with a snapping of his fingers. "Huh! That must be it!"

Julia was still trying to be professional, and that's why Daxton didn't mind her too much. She found his sarcasm from years of trauma funny and stayed honest with him. When his last foster family in New Hampshire decided the Shields boy was too much for them to handle, Julia told him so in blunt words - They didn't want him anymore. Julia kept it straight when he was being difficult. There weren't many adults that did that with young teens because they didn't believe they could handle the truth. So Daxton can tell she's not hiding her surprise that the Griffiths hadn't made a single complaint yet. Or so he thought.

"However..." Julia shuffled through the papers. "There is a matter of your attitude we need to address."

"Fire away," Daxton instructs flatly.

She says the words she's been attempting to drill into his skull to reach his brain since he was thrown out of the first house she placed him. "Daxton, the Griffiths are good people. They want you. They had nothing to say about you except good things."

The office somehow seems smaller. Daxton crossed his arms over his chest and sunk lower in the chair. "I don't need parents. I don't need a family," he spits. He can feel his shell become warmer the further he slithered in so no one could see the truth. The Losers were a hair away from seeing who Daxton Shields really was and that was scary enough for him. He finished with a simple, "I can take care of myself." Because Daxton always has. He doesn't need this life of bouncing in different lives.

Julia made a show of clearing her throat. She picked up the review either Miles or Josie Griffth sent her before reading clearly out loud.

"Daxton is a quiet, closed off, young man. He didn't speak as much as our other children but we can see him slowly warming up to the other sweet boy his age, Charles. We admire how strong, valiant, intelligent, bright, and dedicated he is to tasks despite his independence. However, there's a vibrant warmness in him that he's afraid to show in the fear of being hurt again. We still believe there's no need to push a child who isn't ready, so we allow Daxton to slowly embrace the considerate, kind-hearted part of himself whenever he's ready to. We're excited to see the man he'll become if he'll have us."

When she finished, it was Daxton's turn to roll his eyes to the back of his skull to hide the fact he's taken off guard. He's had nothing but a forked tongue since he was introduced to the adults and they're so blatantly lying about who he is as if they got him all figured out. "That's bullshit," he declares harshly. Julia tries to protest at the cuss word, but he doesn't slow down or stop. He knows this is exactly when he should hold back but that was always the problem. Daxton had no control. He had no filter. And there's no stopping the roll he set himself on the steep hill.

"I'm not a fucking doll that you can shove into a dollhouse so we can all play pretend, okay? I just want to be alone! I want to take care of myself! Because I... I hate feeling like this." Vulnerable, the voice in his head screams, but he doesn't say it. Because Daxton Shields was many things, but vulnerable and weak was not one of them. "I'm not... I'm not fucking strong, bright, or - or whatever words they used in that shitty report. I'm..." Daxton was slowly becoming at a loss of words as he sat back again and finished in a quiet mutter. "I'm nothing, alright? I don't belong here."

A soft look glimmering in Julia's gaze rises at the speech Daxton delivered so he has to avert his attention to the wall as if it was more interesting. He's known she's seen kids with worse lives than his own and she must care about them all. The words about his life must have hit a spot in her. "I'm sorry, Daxton. But it's my job to ensure you're not living on the streets. I can't have that. You're my responsibility until you're eighteen, no matter how many homes you've been in." Julia paused to let Daxton process that, the only noise being the soft click, click, click, of her pen. Then she finished.

"The Griffiths gave you a chance with them, but they're not forcing you to stay. You haven't run away once. I think being there is good for you," she admitted. Maybe she's right, but Daxton is much too stubborn to admit it. "You don't have many options laid out, do you?"

And she's correct, again. Daxton could run off as many times as he wanted from the Griffiths and his foster siblings, but he'd be brought back every time he's caught, no matter how far he goes to hide. Something tells him that they would accept him each time he returned with open arms but Daxton hadn't found a reason to leave yet. They're the only family who hasn't cared how cold he could be or if he chose to hide in his shell instead of being as open as a book. They're patient, and that's something he wasn't used to. Even Lia is, as she watches her younger foster siblings with a smile, and was there to advise them. Lucas was as loud as Charlie, but he hugged Daxton even when he felt like a monster. Haley mostly kept to herself or Lia, but she still waved to him when she saw him returning from school or asked to play board games with him and Charlie.

Then there was the Losers Club. The first group of friends he's ever had in his life. And after the rock fight that happened weeks prior, he could feel something special between them. Something he's never had because they weren't just around for some company to bear. It was like a bond was forged, one so strong that being broken wasn't possible. For some reason Daxton couldn't piece it together yet, they didn't believe he was as bad as he thought of himself.

Charlie called him his brother even if they weren't related by blood and didn't stand for the shit Daxton gave him. Charlie thought he was funny, determined, and even fun to be around when he was throwing a fit of anger. Bill appreciated that Daxton considered others' feelings and helped him believe he wasn't as crazy as he convinced himself he was. Eddie was honest and called him an idiot most of the time, but he still bandaged Daxton's wounds and was still concerned for his wellbeing even when he was pushed away. He even ignored the snide comments Sonia sent his way. Stan had such true, calm energy to him that he didn't see the bad in Daxton but he was the mediator he needed in his life for a sense of peace. He kept him centered.

Then there was Richie, who laugh made his heart pound because the jokes he made weren't even funny, and all he had to do was look at Daxton behind the glasses that were too wide for his already large, froggy features, and then he's smiling too. He was such a moron sometimes that Daxton wanted to shove his knuckles in his mouth, bite on the flesh with his sharp teeth to keep his screaming muffled. Then only a second later he's blushing like a teen girl who kept her hair in pigtails because Richie tugged on them to push his buttons. He was such a stupid boy, and maybe Charlie saw how Daxton acted around him because he made him wonder what was really the truth behind his reactions sent to one certain member of the Losers Club. But then he faces reality. Boys don't like boys.

As for Mike, Beverly, and Ben, they may be new to the club they banded together, but every single one of them included him to ensure he never felt left out. Beverly embraced the parts the boys hated about themselves because she knows what it's like to hate yourself because of others, Ben was patient with Daxton when he didn't deserve it, and Mike was one of the kindest, warmest people he knew. He noticed how Mike admired the loyalty between Daxton and Charlie, and they bonded well because of their different struggles with family. They cared about him too.

Because they all wanted him. And no one has ever wanted Daxton Shields.

Loser was supposed to be a degrading term to insult an outcast. Henry Bowers and his ugly friends used it as much as they could until that's how his targets felt. But Daxton, Charlie, Bill, Eddie, Stan, Richie, Mike, Beverly, and Ben took the name Losers and made it theirs to wear the label with pride.

Julia's pen stopped clicking so she could tap it on the shiny wooden desk. The tapping sound snaps Daxton out of his thoughts. "So?" She urged.

Right. Daxton doesn't have many options to choose from. "I guess I can stay then," he confesses reluctantly. "It's not so bad. Well, uh, kind of."

A smile crosses Julia's face. "That wasn't so hard, was it? I didn't even have to pull any teeth." Daxton flashed her a sarcastic smile before rolling his eyes again. "So, what is it? What convinced you to stay? I gotta say, it has my interest. You must have something special in Derry if I don't have to relocate you after a few months for once."

Yeah, Daxton could mention the clown. He could tell Julia everything about the creepy, whatever It was, that tried to devour him. But then he'd get locked in the nuthouse with his arms stuck in a straightjacket because adults didn't want to listen to kids when they were scared of a monster and telling the truth. So Daxton doesn't. Instead, he takes a deep breath to calm the swirl churning in his stomach and spills everything about the Losers Club.

Everything. Daxton talked more than Julia did for the first time since he's known her. He told her about the friends he made and how he may have found a place he belonged in this world. He picks at his fingernails anxiously at some parts, fighting back the real smile dancing on his lips, and Daxton wonders if Julia could tell the boy left in her care was beginning to feel genuine happiness. It was just the start and it must be strange, for her too, but he can see her eyes become watery towards the end of their scheduled meeting.

And if his eyes are too, he doesn't comment on it. Daxton only shuts the door on his way out so she can't see it and wipes at them in the backseat of Miles's car. What else was a kid who had never felt loved before supposed to do when it's being handed to him - and he knew he wasn't one to deserve it?

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The entire ride was full of silence, besides the soft music Miles hummed along to. Daxton was glad he let him have his space so he could rest his temple against the warm glass window of the car because he's positive he just needed a few minutes to collect his thoughts. He took a huge step today with Julia. Hell, he thinks he may have opened up just a bit too much, with Charlie too. Daxton may have been many things, even a vulnerable little coward, but he wasn't a liar. The Losers meant a lot to him so he didn't lie to himself. It was going to hurt like a motherfucker when they realized what a real piece of shit he was and left.

Being overwhelmed with feelings was something Daxton was somehow both used to handling and not at all because he tried to convince himself the only emotion he was good at was anger. But when sorrow, dread, anguish, and this awful ache he couldn't even find a name for mixed together, it was as dangerous as mixing chemicals. Daxton was afraid to turn as lethal as acid and explode in a way that'd burn someone else.

He's afraid that person might be Charlie. And the last thing Daxton wanted to do was singe him if he got too close. So when the car parks in the driveway, his only thought is to isolate himself as fast as possible while unbuckling and opening the car door. Charlie has been waiting on the porch since they left, somehow cradling a baseball bat, a few leather mitts, and a ball or two in a bundle gathered with his arms and hands.

"Hey!" He's greeting Miles and Daxton with a grin brighter than the summer's sun. Charlie's always so full of energy and life and looking at him now, Daxton wondered if he was the rain that poured to make the day dreary, or if he wasn't even worth being that because sometimes he felt so much worse than being a damper on someone's evening. That's evident in the subtle nod he returns.

Charlie doesn't even ask how the meeting with Daxton's caretaker went, not because he doesn't care, but because he respects his foster brother too much to pry. Daxton appreciated it. "Wanna play some ball?" He questions them, rocking back and forth on the heels of his shoes over the lawn's grass as if he's been eager to do so since they drove away that morning.

A lighthearted laugh escapes Miles who gently ran his fingers through Charlie's hair. "'Course, son," he agreed and accepted one of the mitts in his direction. "Dax, I'm sure his offer extended to you, but would you - "

"I'm alright," Daxton mumbled and shut the door with a harsh click behind him. He remembers his manners and is sure to say, "thanks, though", before taking off into the house. He knows they're aware the words I need a minute to be alone weren't said but implied because they don't chase after him. They instead move on to the backyard through the fence and don't complain as Daxton expected. He ignores Lia's eyes from where she's on the couch with Josie on the cushion next to her that trail after him as he skips up the staircase.

He didn't want to just hide in the room where he was stuffed, alone with his scary thoughts, and wouldn't be able to breathe. Then again, Daxton didn't want to be surrounded by others. It was a constant struggle - to crave touch but flinch every time someone was close enough.

Daxton didn't crawl under the covers of his bed so he could stare blankly at the ceiling for hours on end, although they looked inviting. He did what he did the second day of summer and unlocked the bedroom window so he could slide open the glass plate separating the room from the outside. Daxton was grateful it wasn't pointed to the backyard so he wouldn't be watching Miles and Charlie playing baseball. He was instead gazing to the busy road in a moment of peace with the sun rays kissing his skin warmly.

He shut his eyes and basked in the silence. But it only lasts a few minutes. He didn't have to count the seconds, he just felt them tick by. And then Daxton's eyelids flew open in surprise when the solace was ruined by a loud, and frankly annoying, voice coming from the sidewalk below.

"Hey, what the fuck are you doing on the roof?!"

Daxton opened his eyes and squinted. Richie Tozier was standing on the concrete, his bike keeping him upright. He was hit with a blast of annoyance. "And what the fuck are you doing here?" He called back.

"Charlie called us. He said he was bored, wanted to play some ball, or whatever. I was the only one bored out of his mind enough to do so." Richie kicked his bike down until it hits the sidewalk. "But, hey, sitting on the roof and risking breaking your neck looks a lot more fun. Unless you want to come down?"

The boards shift as Daxton adjusted his bottom uncomfortably and a little awkwardly. He doesn't exactly want to tell Richie to piss off because he wants to be alone. He hopes Richie isn't as dense as he thinks when he says after a moment hesitation, "Actually, I don't really want to come down right now..."

"Oh." Richie adjusts his glasses from where he's squinting behind them just to catch a glimpse at the boy on the roof way above his head. Then Daxton realized soon Richie didn't take the hint and he is indeed that thick-headed. "That's okay - I'll just come in!"

Inwardly, Daxton curses as his protests that come out go unheard as Richie dashes into the house. He scrambled to kick his legs through the open window, but he hears Richie's loud mouth greeting his foster mother and sister before he hears his even louder footsteps. Was there any part of him that was just slightly quiet?, He thought with a groan while the intruder exclaimed, "Hi Nala! Oh, c'mere!" Before clapping his hands together. Daxton mostly hopes that Richie decided their pet can be his new best friend, but he can't pray to have that much luck because there are two sets of steps bounding up the steps now.

Daxton's legs are dangling over the edge at the same time Richie decided boundaries weren't a thing and burst through the bedroom door. "Hey, Daxton! What's shakin'?" He greeted like it was nothing as Nala squeezed herself past the doorframe and Richie to bound towards Daxton.

A flinch he can't hide twitched its way through his stiffened muscles when Nala tries to jump on his legs and unintentionally drags him inside with his bottom still pressed on the window sill. He loves her, she's sweeter than any sugar stocked in the kitchen cupboards, but looking into her eyes reminds her of what chased him down the streets of Derry. Trauma was real and Daxton felt it strongly. His hands guide their way through her fur in an attempt to lower her but she's so full of energy that he feels the drag of her tongue across his chin.

"Nala, stop it. You know I hate that," Daxton scolds her as if she could understand the words, but seems to get the harsh undertone to back off, and manages to wrangle her steady on her paws against the floor again.

"What the dick, dude? Take that stick out of your ass, she's the sweetest pup ever!" Richie clapped his hands together to get Nala's attention once it was averted away from Daxton, and she dashed across the room to him. Richie already has his arms open in greeting, scraping through Nala's thick fur with soft coos. Daxton swears his heart warms with so much heat that his skin becomes a bright red at the sight. He wishes that scraping at his cheeks with his nails until they were bloody worked to force the blush away. But it wouldn't, so he doesn't.

He almost misses Richie's next words because of the distraction. "Swallow a fat fucking chill pill, bro." He drags his fingers through Nala's fur again, making her pant with delight, and doesn't seem to be bothered a bit when his clothes are covered in her hair. Eddie would have had a hundred fits by now, screeching about his allergies, but Richie is nonchalant. "Come on, it isn't like she's ever bitten you."

Daxton's jaw sets in a clench because no Nala has never tried to harm him, other than the occasional playful tackles, but Richie wasn't there when It morphed into a hideous, wolf-like form of the dog and nearly chewed his leg like chicken. The silence then must be getting to Richie as a lightbulb went off over his empty head and his lips parted in realization. "Oh - so, like, It kind of - bit you - bite you? Maybe? Like the last turkey leg on Thanksgiving, huh?"

Daxton says nothing at the bluntness which speaks for itself. Richie grimaced and finally stopped because he figured he's already pushing his luck. "I'll shut up now," he decided.

"Will you?"

"Not really."

Daxton quirked a half-assed smile at that. Then he changed the subject because talking about It today wasn't on his to-do list. "Trashmouth means you don't have a filter from your brain to your mouth, huh?" He supposed. "That is if you have a brain."

"Not one bit!" Richie laughs, an awful cackle that Daxton would have been annoyed by, if he didn't compare it to bells he heard on Christmas mornings that held some of his fondest memories. "Come on, don't tell me it's not even a little amusing, yeah?" Nala nearly knocks off his glasses when she jerked up to press her muzzle into his neck for more attention. Richie complies as he finishes, "But hey, do us both a favor and don't put all your faith in me for comedy."

"Won't have to worry one bit about that," Daxton reassured him. However, he's still watching, amused, as Richie crouched on the bedroom floor so he can reach Nala's level when she's rolling on her back and expecting belly rubs that he happily delivers.

"Yeah, guess I won't." There's still a faint smile leftover from Richie's laugh present as he stops giving Nala so much attention so he can look at Daxton through the glass of his frames. "Then again - " Daxton had to bite his lower lips before a groan could escape. "Maybe that'll change when I'm a world-famous comedian!"

This time, Daxton can't stop the laughter that tumbles through his now open lips clumsily. "Oh, you, a world-famous comedian?" He repeats. Then he sees the dream, the starry look in Richie's eyes that glimmers in his gaze, and decides not to crush these dreams to dust. Maybe he could even see it but he wouldn't give Richie that satisfaction. "Hm. Maybe one day I could see it," Daxton admitted reluctantly.

"Exactly. See? My trash mouth can worm its way into your little heart of stone," Richie threw at him, accompanied by a wink that only brought another flush to Daxton's neck, spreading to his cheeks. Richie was just being stupid, he was a thousand times more awkward than he was pretentious, and yet, him messing around was enough to make Daxton blush. He hates it, and he knows Charlie would have a field day if he joined them because making an unbroken boy become crimson was what they found "fun".

"So what about you?" Richie's stare wandered back to Nala as if he's uninterested, but his tone said anything but. "Tell me, Dax, you gonna get the hell out of Derry sooner or later?"

"Sooner." The tip of Daxton's shoe almost hit the floor so he pressed it into the rug, hoping a growth spurt would hit soon. He's already a little taller than most boys his age. "I don't know what the fuck I want once I'm out... Or even know, I guess." He scratched the back of his neck when it started to become warmer as if a sudden spotlight had shone on him.

Richie let out a hum of acknowledgment as he threw his back on the ground like it was nothing. Nala was over him in seconds, pressing her nose into his ribs so he wouldn't forget about her. He doesn't, bringing his fingertips in slow lines that Daxton watched. Richie looked so calm, less full of energy than he always was, and wondered what could have possibly brought it on.

"Hey," he suddenly spoke up after another beat of silence. "For what it's worth, you gotta tell me how you ended up in this shithole of Derry. I mean, Charlie's already told us all about his, so - " He rolled onto his stomach and it was comical how Nala followed with her pink tongue hanging out of her mouth, panting lightly. Richie snapped his fingers towards Daxton. "Go. Hit me with your best shot, Dax."

This was what he needed, he realized, as a small laugh flew through Daxton's parted lips before he launched into the story of different homes he's been in. He had a rough day - hell, his life handed him an awful deck of cards alone. But Daxton is allowed to let himself feel as light and foggy as he did right now because Richie Tozier was such an annoying shit, but he's a part of what Daxton needed in his life at that moment.

...

Crap.

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author's note:

sorry if this chapter seemed a bit slow, it was mostly a filler, but i'm really proud of it. daxton's true self is slowly but surely showing and i'm such a proud mom. honestly the miles being a dad moment was cringe but idk how to write a good dad cause -

i'm slowly finding it easier to write things richie would say and he's such a fun character to write with! let me know if anything seemed strange or too unlike him lmao i'm giving it my best but i accept constructive criticism at all times. i could have written daxton telling richie all about the homes he's been in buuut this chapter seemed long enough? but best belief he & richie spend the rest of the day talking and laughing and being buddy bro pals.

also nala is the sweetest. best character i've ever written. i'm so honored and blessed.

okay, i'll stop talking now! thank you for reading, i'm fortunately (or unfortunately) really motivated for this book so i'll see ya really soon when i impulsively update again!

- koda

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