THOSE KIDS ARE CRAZY ONES.

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

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

" HAVE YOU EVER BEEN AFRAID
OF SOMETHING, RICHIE? "

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

MOST OF DAXTON SHIELDS'S MORNINGS WERE SPENT OUTSIDE BECAUSE HE LOVED THE SUN. He hated being in a house. Staying under a roof longer than necessary meant being surrounded by people who were forced to love him and because it was summer, he couldn't wait to be outdoors. Now, he was dreading it. He doesn't feel okay. Something was off in him. Ever since the sun shone through the blinds of their shared room, Daxton had grabbed his blanket and pulled it over his head to shield himself from its warmth like it'd chase him down the street with drooling jaws and a clown suit that morphs into dog fur. It felt like a bad dream that he had when he was awake. Most of all, it felt real. But to consider if what he saw was real made Daxton crazy.

Maybe it made Charlie crazy too. Daxton feels a gentle tug on the corner of his blanket but he doesn't stir. He hears a deep sigh. "Dax, you can't stay in bed forever."

There was a time Daxton felt the safest outside with sunshine. Now, he felt safer tucked into his bed where the world couldn't hurt him. It was almost like he was less afraid as long as he was here, shutting everyone out and isolating himself. It had to be better that way. Daxton mimicked Charlie's sigh with more annoyance and rolled over, causing the mattress springs to squeak with his movement, and spoke with a voice that nearly doesn't match his tone. "I'm safe here without a clown turning into a fucking monster," he insisted. He sounds desperate. He sounds afraid and he hates it.

Because he is. And Charlie knows it too because he feels the same fear rushing in their veins. It doesn't go away miraculously like Daxton hoped it would after a long, mostly silent night the foster brothers shared.

"At least eat breakfast?" Charlie tried again. "I promise there isn't a clown waiting in the kitchen for you."

"Oh, wonderful," Daxton let out sarcastically. He huffed and kicked off his blanket. His stomach was rumbling anyway and maybe Charlie was right, there might not be a clown or dog that wants to snack on his organs waiting in the kitchen. Just frozen waffles they can warm up in the toaster before drowning the treat in syrup.

Even the sudden popping sound the toaster makes is enough to make Daxton jump. He used to be prepared for loud noises and quick movements so he could defend himself, but he supposed that all changed after the chase. He doesn't know what other way to describe the horrifying experience, other than the way it altered all of his instincts. Charlie is already slicing his waffles into smaller pieces as Daxton swiped a knife that he dipped in butter across his own but that's when it happens; a ring so loud it startles them both.

"I got it!" Lucas was practically skipping as he cheered to reach the phone before either of the boys can. Daxton hates the sound each time his sneakers slap against the wood but before he can shout at him to knock it off, the young boy had already reached the phone and was pulling it off the hook. "Hello? ... Yes, they're here." Daxton watched with a bit of intensity as Lucas's voice become less joyful and more confused. "Hm ... Okay." He lowered the phone and covered the mouthpiece, his eyes meeting the two pairs. "It's for you guys."

Them? Daxton doesn't know how much he trusted that. No one in Derry would be calling the Griffth's house for him - Charlie, maybe, but why him? He hesitated but not long enough for Lucas to notice or question it. He only shared a questioning glance with Charlie before he takes the first step towards the phone outstretched in his direction and raised the speaker to his ear. Charlie shooed their younger foster brother away so they could have privacy. "Uh... Hello?"

"Dax... Daxton?" A trembling voice whispered on the other end. Charlie noticed the way Daxton's eyebrows furrowed at the familiarity and clung to his side, pressing his ear close so he could hear the caller too. He's equally stunned when he realizes it's Beverly Marsh phoning them. "Is Charlie there... Is he there, um, too?" She's not even crying out loud or heaving sobs. She only sounds afraid. She's truly petrified about something, and all Daxton has to hear is her voice to know that. He wondered if he sounded the same.

"Yeah," Daxton answered as he shifted his weight onto his other foot. "Bev, I don't often care about being rude but for some reason this time I'm really sorry for saying this - why are you calling us?" He just wants to get past the greetings. He wants to know what's on Beverly's mind the same way he wants her to know what was on his so maybe he wouldn't think he was so crazy, even if Charlie was in the same boat.

"I'm sorry," Beverly apologized to them even though she didn't have to. "I need, um." She paused. "I need some help."

"Help?" Charlie echoed.

They listened to Beverly inhale the deepest breath she could muster. It makes Daxton feel worse. In the few short days he had the chance to know Beverly, he was able to puzzle together what made her different from the rumors. She didn't care much about what anyone thought of her, held so much pride in herself that she fearlessly stripped in front of a gaping group of boys, and deeply cared about people important to her. She was a girl who bit back. Beverly was courageous, overall. And Daxton is the dumbass who doesn't know how to help or what to say so her voice stopped quivering. He felt useless.

"Yes," Beverly finally responded in a mumble before adding desperately. "Please."

There's a beat of silence. Then, Charlie seized the phone, turning the mouthpiece end towards him so Beverly could hear him more clearly. "Bev, listen, we can be there as soon as possible but right now you gotta remember you're safe. Nothing can hurt you if you let it. Will you be okay until we get there?"

The way Charlie took charge in a way Daxton couldn't must have soothed her. Beverly's breathing sounded like it had become much easier to handle and she was eased to speak a little more clearly than before. "I think so," she says with more stableness before clearing her throat. "Thank you. I already called Bill. He said he'd gather the rest, I just... I needed to be sure."

Fair enough, Daxton thinks. Beverly didn't want to be alone at a time like this so they had to work fast and find out what was wrong. "We'll be there soon with the rest," Daxton promised like a vow, repeating Charlie's earlier words. Beverly thanks them shakily one last time before they let her go and return the phone to its hook.

There's only a spare second that a selfish thought crossed Daxton's mind when they retrieve their bikes and set off. Why am I doing this? When just yesterday, he was nearly devoured by what could only be explained as a clown that shapeshifted into a wolf-like creature, and now he is hopping on a bike and pedaling down a road that leaves his blood pumping in his veins like a warning. Maybe Daxton's instincts didn't completely disappear, but now he's second-guessing them if it means saving a friend.

And so they go, leaving behind a cold breakfast with fear on their mind that can no longer be erased.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

The redhead is already waiting for them when the group arrived. Daxton had been ignoring them for the most part, which wasn't too odd but it was because he knew he was close to snapping. Seeing whatever the fuck that was yesterday brought his temper to a whole new level he could barely keep contained, and it didn't help Richie and Eddie wouldn't stop bickering while Stan told them to shut up so he could get more information about what Beverly wanted help from them so much. Charlie tried to fill him in. Ben, who was still new to this, hung back a little further while Bill took lead, and honestly, all this noise was building something in Daxton - which he had a hunch would worsen when he saw how truly frightened Beverly looked.

From the way that her pale knuckles were stretched as her hands clutched the metal rail, her blue eyes remained wide, and she spoke with both fear and gratefulness that the group of boys showed up, Beverly was plain and simple very afraid. "You made it," she greeted breathlessly as they fell silent once coming around the corner of the apartment building. "I... I need to show you something."

Ben looks back at her with concern at the trembling way she held herself. "What is it?"

A shit-eating grin crossed Richie's face. "More than what we saw at the Quarry?"

While Beverly's unbothered, Charlie's head snapped towards him with a disapproving glare. "Richie," he scolded him in a hiss.

"Shut up!" Eddie snapped at him with more anger than Charlie used like he's tired of the endless comments. "Just shut up Richie!"

Beverly does her best to ignore them and shifts, wiping her hands on her denim shorts as if she was trying to rid her skin of something that wasn't there. "My dad will kill me if he finds out I had boys in the apartment," she finally admitted.

Their leader nods in understanding at what she hinted at. "W-W-We'll leave a lookout. Richie, s... Stay here," he decided and dropped his bike.

The rest of the bikes fall in a clatter against the gravel. Daxton drops his and begins to ascend up the staircase after Charlie with the others, his hand on the rusty bar as Richie loudly complained behind them. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! What if her dad comes back?!" He exclaimed.

"Do what you always do," Daxton hears Stan tell him sarcastically from where he stopped to yell over his shoulder at the first step. "Start talking."

Richie groans back. "It is a gift!" He defended in defeat before plopping back on his bike seat as his friends leave him behind to catch up with Beverly as she opened the front door to her little home.

The apartment was, honestly, mostly what Daxton expected it to be considering the state of the outside. He was even afraid that the decaying staircase they used wouldn't just creak under their weight of them but fall apart completely. The apartment was messy alone, with bottles of alcohol scattered on surfaces, the fresh scent of cigarette smoke in the air, garbage placed anywhere but a bin, and there wasn't a single family photograph hanging on any part of the walls. Daxton frowns when he takes note of that. Every foster house he had been to that - well, sucked - never had happy photos of fake smiling family members anywhere. But the Griffiths did. And sometimes, even seeing those felt like he was living in a dollhouse to him.

Each breath that Daxton takes makes him think he's inhaled a cigarette which is something he hates. Not because the habit is bad, quite honestly he may have picked it up if he didn't hate the smell so much, but because the last foster house in New Hampshire he was in had what he thought was an older teenage boy with serious mental problems. The foster parents didn't believe a word any of the children said when they came to them with claims that they were being tormented physically which led to Daxton having enough. He snapped the day the little sociopath tried to burn his cigarettes on Daxton's skin and he fought back endlessly with violence built from a fit of hot anger that fire had no match for until his knuckles were split and bleeding, and he was removed from the house.

Then they shipped him to Derry, Maine, and the rest is history. Though, he really hopes that shithead landed in the mental hospital with a straight jacket.

But, if Beverly or her father chooses to smoke, Daxton knows that he of all people can't judge them for it. All he can do is force himself to try and block it out of his nostrils as Beverly led them to a narrow hallway. Not one of them knows what to do when she points to the door at the end of the hall. "In there," she mumbled.

It seems like the ominous door is miles away as they slowly walk towards it with steps of uncertainty, bundled together as a group in the case that anything jumps out to them. A faint light even creeped out from underneath the cracks of the wood. In any other situation, Daxton wouldn't have thought the same. Maybe he would even consider if Beverly was overreacting. But after what he endured yesterday... Nothing was the same. Nothing could possibly ever be the same. And something told him that they experienced something similar.

"What is it?" Daxton speaks in question before he could think of the consequences of Beverly's answer.

"You'll see."

Daxton isn't so sure he wants to as they continue their slow-paced journey to the door. His heart only pounds louder with each step. Surely it could beat out of his chest at any minute but it isn't heard by Eddie's sudden fearful rambling. "Great, are you taking us to your bathroom? You know that eighty-nine percent of the worse accidents occur in the bathroom and kitchen and - and - and that's where all the bacteria and fungi are... And it is not a sanitary place," he stated, his voice growing more panicked by the end of his sentence.

Each word only makes Daxton think of the horrifying clown that was more like a monster in his eyes at the playground. The intense fear made his veins course with gasoline so his legs could pump and carry him away from it. The tension in the air made Daxton positive now that Beverly was introducing them to something that was like that.

Bill is the bravest of them all who has the strength to place his palm on the wooden door and give it the lightest push. The creak that the hinges releases in the air are eerie and brought a chill up Daxton's spine that makes him shiver but he inhales the powerful scent before he sees it. It's rotten, but overall almost metallic, filling his nostrils until they burn. His jaw drops and it suddenly dances across his tastebuds.

The same must have happened to Eddie who gagged and had to turn away, pinching his nose with his fingers to block the odor out. "I knew it!"

All Daxton can see is red. It makes his muscles stiffen. His brain had finally caught up so he could process what he's seeing. It's so vibrant that it must be illuminating his skin. It was like a murder scene as if someone was slaughtered in this room, but worse. So much worse. The walls, the windows, the mirror, the sink, the tub, every inch of the bathroom was caked in a thick red substance that slowly dribbled onto the drenched floor. Daxton would have thought it was paint if he didn't know any better, or if the smell wasn't familiar and Beverly wasn't so terrified. So he doesn't have to guess what it is. It's the very same liquid that pumps in the streams of his veins.

Despite the fact that they're all shocked with gaping mouths, Beverly still fears none of them see what she does. "Do you see it?" She whispered. She needed the reassurance she wasn't crazy and the question alone was enough to convince Daxton that he hadn't lost his mind either.

Yes, of course we do, Daxton wants to shout so his voice would bounce off the stained walls, but his foster brother took over. "How - how can you not?" Charlie stammered after a sharp gasp while Eddie vigorously nodded his head. A chorus of quiet agreements followed but there are no comforting words for the girl. Although, Daxton considered the knowledge that she wasn't alone brought her some relief.

"My dad couldn't see it," Beverly explained to them. "I thought that I might be crazy."

"Well, if you're crazy, then we're all crazy," Ben stated.

"I second that notion," Daxton muttered. His slight inappropriate joke broke the trance they were all in. He felt as if it was insensitive to say for a split second, especially towards Beverly, but she doesn't give him any indication that she's bothered by it.

Bill is the first to enter the bathroom. It seemed even smaller with the coat of crimson red. Daxton flinched as it squelched under Bill's sneakers, possibly staining the solid white soles, but he looks over his shoulder to give them a look only a leader could hold. "We ca... Ca-Can't leave it like this," he declared.

And, screw everything else, but Daxton knows he's right. None of them can run out the front door and down the stairs no matter how much they want to while screaming in terror. He can't move from this spot because he made a group of friends and one of them was scared out of their mind, alone, because her father doesn't see it, and she needed their help. This was fucked beyond any belief that he had, but Daxton can't leave and pretend it didn't happen because he wouldn't have wanted the same to happen to himself. He believes everyone standing there could say the same.

It becomes a mutual agreement between them to get to work after Beverly offered to fetch some cleaning surprise, sounding so grateful to have them that she had to take a few deep breaths. When she does return, they slowly pile into the bathroom, each step louder than the last until only Daxton and Stan remain in the doorway. He can see Stan's hesitation, could feel how afraid he was from the way that the emotion had been lingering in the air and, yet, his was somehow stronger. So Daxton walks in first until Stan felt ready to follow.

The floor that must have once been tiled is slippery under Daxton's shoes. They've never been neat or put together well, the cloth and soles were barely held by the laces but he tries to keep his feet steady enough as Beverly piled the bundle of cleaning supplies because the last thing he wants is to slide across this messy ground and have his clothing be covered in blood. That would be a hard thing to explain to the Griffith's, if they could see it, given his past and temper.

Stan had been handing out yellow rubber gloves for them that only Charlie accepted and snapped onto his arms. Eddie is still making gagging noises as they pick and choose their cleaning spots with either a mop and bucket, sponge, or damp rags. The noise leaving his lips quiets once he sticks his inhaler in his mouth to hold past his teeth so he could breathe easier, even if it's only a comfort tool, as well as clipping a clothing pin over his plugged nose to jam the scent out. As for Daxton, he wondered how on Earth Eddie was breathing but doesn't question it, mostly because Charlie had told him not to beforehand, and chooses to grab a cloth for the bathtub and join his foster brother who had already turned on the faucet. The two boys let a stream of water gather the painted insides while they scrubbed what it missed.

Meanwhile, Bill and Eddie work together on mopping the floor which proves to be an easier task once Eddie was so disgusted by the scene that his compulsion to clean the room until it was spotless took over. Ben kept to himself wiping the walls clean until he was joined by Charlie once most of the tub had been cleaned out, leading Stan to step inside it so he could clean the window until the crystal glass shone through with a tint of red through the clearness. Beverly was silent with a dreadful look in her eyes as she did her own work at the sink that was revealed to be a porcelain white.

The blood nearly seeps through the rag that Daxton keeps squeezed between his fingers. It causes a faint red liquid to start to ooze out and tint his skin red, but there is only enough to make it seem as if he's flushed. The cloth, however, would definitely be fucked. There's no chance in hell Beverly will ever want to keep any sponge or rag, which is why she must have retrieved some trash bags as well.

The blood was dried from the sunlight and warmness in the air so it takes them what feels like forever but could have only been an hour or two to clean up the bathroom. It only takes them half that time to become used to the overpowering smell. Luckily, with Stan and Eddie being the ones there that are focused on cleaning every aspect, even the cracks in the four walls, there isn't a spec of blood left to drip when they're done.

As Daxton piles the ruined pile of cleaning stuff that he used into a trash bag and ties the top shut tightly so nothing can leak out, he can't help but let his mind wander. Surely the same thing that happened to Beverly has to relate to the clown he and Charlie saw. He can still feel the scratches on his lower leg from the teeth that nearly ripped it off. Daxton threw away the pants as soon as he got him, refusing to care that he had a limited supply of clothes, purely because he could never wear them again without seeing the rip and thinking about... It. Whatever It was. A part of him wants to mention the horrifying experience in the wonder that maybe Beverly saw a clown too, but then again, Charlie hasn't spoken up about it either because the others may still think they've lost their mind, even after all of this.

Simply because they're children. And children rely on adults to solve their problems, to comfort them from any fears that keep them awake in the middle of the night. They were supposed to question what awful things happened to them, they weren't supposed to find the answers themselves because sometimes those answers to their questions could be too bad for the kids to know. But Daxton never spent time questioning things. He sometimes felt as if his life moved too fast for him to keep up and have time to question what was wrong. But besides the monster seemingly haunting Derry... His life here had been sort of, almost stable.

"I got this," Daxton offered Charlie and Stan who was about to leave with a bag in hand. He managed to carry three at once, two in one hand and one in the other, throwing the one that held two over his shoulder so he could see the steps connected to the building and wouldn't go tumbling down them.

He hears Richie's loud, exaggerated sigh before he sees him jumping off his bike and taking off across the green lawn to follow Daxton's steps to the garbage bins. "Seriously?! You guys spend fucking hours in there and leave me out of the loop?!"

Daxton matched Richie's past sigh only with more annoyance without turning back to look at him. "It's not like that, Richie." He can't pass Richie or walk faster because the boy with the trash mouth isn't giving up. "Something happened in Beverly's bathroom, there was a lot - a lot of blood." Even though it's clean now, it still makes him shudder as if he had just seen it for the first time again.

"So what?" Richie scoffed. "She started her fucking period, and now you had to clean up after her?"

The words made Daxton cringe instead of shiver this time. "Are you serious, Richie?" He said coldly after throwing a bag into the bin and then another. "It wasn't like that. It was like someone was fucking slaughtered."

Richie didn't stop. "Okay, so then she killed someone in her bathroom, in which case we should head before we're all as crazy as her."

Daxton imagined pitching the last bag of trash at Richie to satisfy the irritation building but he tossed it into the bin instead and slammed the plastic lid shut so he can finally meet the other's eyes and glare. He's never hated the word crazy before but now, because he felt insane, Daxton wouldn't doubt that he would snap the next time someone called him it. "Have you ever been afraid of something, Richie?" He demanded.

The question made Richie stop short. The graveness Daxton used in his tone must have made him at a loss of words for fucking once - at last, he found a way to shut Richie up, but he doesn't stop there. "Not in the way of your closet door being opened in the middle of the night but real fear. True fear. The kind that doesn't only haunt your nightmares, but the time you're awake too." Daxton knows he's being unreasonable and defensive because Richie didn't see the state of Beverly's bathroom nor the shape-shifting wolf that nearly ripped his limb off and gnawed on it like the cooked leg of a chicken but he can't stop the roll he's on.

"Alright, Socrates" Richie finally says slowly. He's smart enough not to call Daxton crazy this time. There's a heavy pause as Daxton starts to move away from him and retreat again to Beverly's apartment again where he saw the rest about to exit. But Richie says something that stops him, quiet enough so the others can't hear him, but just loud enough for Daxton's ears to pick up. "For the record, just like Ben said... It's normal to be scared."

It's okay to be afraid. Ben's voice echoed in Daxton's mind from where he stopped in his tracks. He was afraid. He was frightened of moving homes, building bonds with people he'd inevitably had to leave, standing on the tallest of all heights, plus these fucking feelings of all things that he couldn't describe...

But how much fear can one person handle?

━━━━━━━━

author's note:

i really love how daxton and richie's relationship will be developing tbh. the next chapter you'll see more of daxton's angry/badass side and then the next will just be lots of development 😉

i haven't had a lot of spare time on my hands but every minute i do have i try to use for writing. shoutout to my neighbor who has open wifi, you a real one, i just have to sit on my balcony to use it even at a weak signal lmao.

- koda

.•° ✿ °•.
WORD COUNT:
4.4k.
°•. ✿ .•°