https://discord.gg/dvjjh98

(Y/n) pov.

Dammed clown. Thinking he had control over you. Oh wait, he did. Literally, you knew he could rip you apart if you disobeyed or something. Only time will tell until you do fuck up and piss the monster off. After all, from what you've gathered, he's a bipolar fuck face with extreme makeup on. "Drama Queen," you rolled your eyes when the clown turned around. Glaring to god knows where. But you were sure he heard you when his head slowly turned to the left.

"Make..uP?" again, he popped the last letter of the sentence - "p." Confusion was easing off his albino skin, well from what you could see it was albino. Unless the monster decided it was fun to jump into either a pool of white paint or flour. If makeup wasn't a thing, you'd presume it would be flour. On closer inspection, you could see his 'white' skin on his forehead cracking. Something that would happen if you had flour on your face that was once wet, now dry. Like mud. You shook your head. What the fuck were you thinking about? This wasn't the time to be thinking of his makeup or flour. You were literally about to lure a poor child into their death.

Oh, and he could read minds. Not like you haven't figured that out anyways. But Pennywise thought it was nice to remind you of that. Maybe to keep you in check with your thoughts? Who knows, he had his ways. Your eyes narrowed as you folded your arms across your chest. Sassy mode activated. "Yes, Makeup," you spat, watching how his 'brows' rose at your sudden outburst.

What's the worst he could do? Slowly decapitate your body before he ate you alive, before leaving you to die?Yeah, that sounds about right. You gave a small smirk at your thoughts - sooner or later the clown was going to try to kill you. Might as well be now. Living in the sewers weren't the best.

"You aren't living in the sewers," his almost shocked voice rang out. Immediately ignoring, or forgetting, your spit to him. He seemed almost hurt by your thoughts. "You live in house," he raised a hand. Making your own brow rise in confusion. Your house, or some kids house that he killed, or an abandoned house?

"This isn't a house," your cocky reply hoisted venom. "This is a sewer," You continue," with horrible sewerage water..." You kicked the water with disgust. Proving your point as the liquid splashed along both of your legs. "...it's dark," you pointed around," and quite frankly it stinks."

He smiled at you, but it wasn't genuine. A teasing smile was forming as he took a step forward. "No, you will live in house with me," You almost scoffed at that. Live in a house with him? Being the sewers was bad enough! Next, he will make you share a bed with him - gross. You shivered at that, cause you knew it was possible. Especially with someone as nutty as him.

"I'm not living in a house with anyone!" You snapped aloud, holding your hands up for extra 'drama.'Pennywise didn't care, simply just took a step forward and swept you up in his hands. Making you squeal and thrash around as he hoisted you over his shoulder. The uncomfortable fabric of his clothing rubbing against your skin. Rough, wet tassels against your own battered and bruised skin. It hurt, bad. Not only that but his hands were gripping your waist as he walked down the drains. Passing multiple drain-entries. "Let me go!" You demanded, thumping your fists against his back. Nope, he didn't budge. As usual. What did you expect? For him to fall down in pain and cry?If only he could fall down and cry in pain. More for the fact it would give you a chance to escape.

He kept walking, his hands tightening around your waist as his legs began to take longer strides. Where was this clown taking you? Your heart was thumping loud against his shoulder when you heard the sloshing of water being replaced by the noise of mud. 'No, no, no!' Your panicked thoughts abruptly made you squirm strongly. Almost shocking the clown - but a strike of pain shook your body. Causing you to stop and go limp in his grasp. Your arms lankily flopping down his back. Head resting on his shoulder while your eyes violated the ground. Seeing how the once water-covered concrete was now blanketed in the mud. The footprints from the clown kind of entertaining you. But seeing how deep the footprints were scared you slightly. He was strong, you already knew that. But he was heavy. "Are you calling me a large carrier of body-muscle?" His voice perked up: interrupting your thoughts. That was surely one way of saying fat.

You groaned quietly, closing your eyes and giving a subtle nod. Pennywise didn't notice that just kept his ever-quickening pace. "Yes, I did just call you fat," you muttered. His chest rumble with a small chuckle, making your cheeks dust a light pink. 'What, no,' you shook your head. Giving a groan of frustration as you lifted your hands and rubbed your cheeks. "No wha-"

"Nothing!"

The sudden squeak startled you. You shot up, your vision blurry for a moment until focused. Blinking, you looked around. Your hands resting behind you, pressing up against something soft. You averted your eyes down to what you rested on. A mattress, an old mattress. Confusion washed over you until the familiar giggle weaved into your hearing.

You shot your eyes over to the corner of the room, seeing a small blue-tartan couch - one seater - snug between the corner of the two walls. On the chair was the clown, sitting cross-legged and smiling at you. "Where am I," your voice shook but you didn't want to admit that. Pennywise did, himself giggling as he rocked back and forth. His hands holding onto his knees before he lifted his right hand. Your eyes rose for a moment, but soon enough you figured what he wanted.

"Do you want a balloon, (Y/n)?"

"No," your reply was short and sharp.

His smile immediately faulted, the smallest of pouts replacing it. His eyes quivered, as his bottom lip did, with sadness. You scoffed, turning your head away from It and looking around the room. The wall's had peeling white plaster, at some corners a small dint - most likely a punch hole - was visible on the wall. Making you shiver slightly, but avert your eyes to the door. Seeing how it was a bright (favorite colour). A small smile formed on your face for a moment, but quickly disappeared when you realize the fresh paintwork. It was too fresh, the door looked brand new against the rotten walls and floorboards. Pennywise chose your favorite colour paint on the door.

You glanced over to the right, looking at one of the cleaner walls to see a picture hanging. A nice golden frame surrounding a picture of hand-painted elk in the woods. It was beautiful. But it was so old, very old. The painting itself was faded, worn, scratched. But still, the artwork held its beauty. Where did this clown get all of this?

"I do not know what else humans crave for comfort," his voice rung out. Pennywise stood up, walking over to the window - which you had now noticed - and looked out. His hands grasping the window bars.

Wait, bars?

This wasn't a jail. Well, legally it wasn't a jail. But to you, it was soon going to feel like one. But bars? Why were there bars on the window? This wasn't a jail cell. A frown grew firm on your facade as you stood up. Giving a small moan of shock as you felt the warm ground hit your bare feet. Slowly you steadied yourself then began your slow two-step walk over to the window where Pennywise stood. He didn't look back at you until you were standing beside him. Glaring out the window to see nothing but trees and a dirt road - the driveway. "Where are we?" You mumbled, leaning forward and placing your hands on the window bars. Holding yourself and giving more support to your aching bones.

"A place," his timid voice whispered beside you. 'Helpful,' you scoffed to yourself as you turned around. Noticing two other doors besides your bed - from closer inspection, you found your bed to be a queen size. 'Huh, special me,' you sarcastically thought to yourself before taking shaky steps towards the two doors. Seeing how one had a lock, the other didn't. You grasped the right doors handle and pulled it open. Coughing and closing your eyes when you got blasted with dust. Waving your hand around before peeking an eye open to see shelves and coat-hangers. Within the shelves, neatly folded clothes were placed. Underwear in one, combined with socks. Jeans, shorts in the other. While the ground was accompanied by shoes - Converse of different colours. You smirked for a moment, looking at the coat-hangers to see multiple types of jackets, hoodies, shirts, differing from long to short.

You turned back around, you would check the clothes out later. But the door to the left - right beside the cupboard door you had just inspected - was bugging you. The door had a lock on it. Slowly you opened it, giving a small huff when it took a while for the door to pull through. It being jammed for a moment before you gave a gasp. The door flying open and yourself stumbling in. You groaned when you grasped onto some sort of tiled-desk.

The small sound of footsteps behind you increased until you felt the presence of the clown looming over you. He stood there, slightly worried to the sudden stumble but wouldn't allow himself to show it. Already being embarrassed by your previous reaction of denying his balloon - tsk tsk tsk. He stood at the door,watching you like prey.

You glanced at the floor for a moment. Too nervous to look around, but when your feet touch the cold surface of the ground you knew where you were. You gave a small squeal when you looked up and glanced around. A bathroom, a bathroom!

You looked at the shower with predator-like eyes. It was a bath shower. A curtain surrounding it when it was in use. Good, wouldn't want Pennywise busting in and seeing you naked. You turned around, finding yourself face to face with a mirror. With you.

Your face was battered, bruised. Blood splatters have dried themselves under your eyes, nose, lips, and chin. Cringing you took a step forward, leaning your head forward. It only being a few inches away from the mirror as you raised a hand. Touching your cheek, watching yourself flinch. You quickly removed your hand and gave a sniffle. Seeing your bruised face and mattered hair made you scared. It was like a timeline to how long you've been with It.

"I... I look like shit," you muttered out. Lowering your head and staring at the one-person basin. Giving a small sigh when you turned the water on. Seeing the clear liquid flow, running over your dirty hands.

"You do not look like the waste of a creature," he replied, taking a step beside you before he grasped a drawer. Pulling it, making your eyes avert to it and seeing clusters of products: shampoo, conditioner, soaps, shavers, hair-ties, deodorant. Everything a bathroom needed - all the necessities, this one had.

"Where did you get all this stuff?" You whispered, turning the tap off and flicking your hands for a moment. Letting the water flick off before you grabbed some soap. Staring at it before turning the tap back on, running your hands and soap under the water before washing all the dirt and dried blood off.

"Place," he smirked. Turning around and looking at the bed. Seeing how the sun was still shining through the window. "Do (Y/n) need anything else?" You shook your head as you scrubbed your hands together. Watching the blackened water run down the sink's pipes. You sighed in relief as you flicked your hands, ridding excess water before you turned the tap off. Turning around and drying your hands off on a handtowel. The soft, pastel yellow absorbing the liquid on your hands. You sighed as you turned around, looking down at your palms. They were so clean, you could see cuts and bruises clearly now. It was disturbing to see the markings, but it was brilliant to see the clean surface. Maybe you won't die after all.