Y/N had gotten back to her home in that same hour, the familiar feeling of home swelling in her body to make her feel safe once again, even though the dread of knowing that her mom would be once again be asking her where she would be swelled.

What excuse do I come up with now? I was kidnapped by a strange killer clown that lives in the sewer. She would think I'm mad. She sighed in defeat, shoving her bike away in frustration, before heading inside, walking slowly to the kitchen, where she had thought that she would've met the angry nagging from her mother.

But to her surprise, she found that the kitchen was empty; her mom was nowhere to be seen. "Mom?" She called out louder, her voice strained as it echoed across the kitchen walls. "Strange..." she muttered, heading to the fridge, the hunger that she had missed was beginning to claw at her stomach more and more, and it was making her feel more crazy.

She wrapped her hand around the handle, but the yellow bright note stood out in front of her tired E/C eyes, as they trailed to it, the fancy yet messily scribbled note similar to her that it was her mom's handwriting. She ripped it away, reading the note carefully, the confusion building in her mind:

Is she not aware that I was missing? When did she leave? She was very confused, so very much. Did she not even care that she gone? How long have I even been gone for? Y/N looked to the small calendar hanging on the wall beside the fridge, and as she scanned the days, and when she looked over the date that she last remembered to now, her eyes almost rolled out of her head.

"T-Three days?" She whispered, a long shiver drawing down the back of her neck, and she swore she heard the raspy voice of It in her ear, chuckling lowly. She moved back to the fridge, ignoring the voice and laughing, grabbing anything that seemed edible; leftover pizza from whatever night ago, shoving it in her mouth, and tiredly eating as much as she could of it without trying to swallow.

The hunger slowly lulled her stomach to relax, and soon, she had finished the entire large slice, a wave of satisfaction clearing her mind. I feel like sh*t. She turned to the clock on the wall, the time only reading four-thirty pm.

She groaned, stumbling and dragging herself slowly to the stairs, ignoring all feelings of being watched. In this moment in time, her only thoughts were to clean herself off, and then get to bed early. She grudged and whined, half her upper body leaning on the wall for support as she soon reached the top floor to her bathroom, taking her dirty ripped clothes and putting them in the basket- some even in the bin, there was no way a pair of her jeans.

She turned the squeaky taps of her bathtub on, watching as the bath filled before she got into it, scrubbing her body head to toe before she felt even some-what clean. She was trying to cleanse her body and soul for what she had seen in those sewers, and she wished she could clean and erase all the memories too.

Soon after, she got out, grabbing a fresh clean pair of shorts and an old t-shirt, shuffling to bed where she collapsed, her head leaning into her pillow, her hair splayed all over her face. In that moment, she appreciated what it felt like to have her bed once again, the familiar softness that she was lying on; it made her feel safe again.

With a final small hum, she closed her E/C tired eyes, the small jiggle of a bell echoing in her ears, but she was too far into her sleep to wake up.

Summer was growing on Y/N more and more, and even though she sometimes despised how humid it was on certain days, she could appreciate it more than the rain or freezing cold. Derry had weird weather; it went from hot to cold, windy to rain, humid to practical storms that almost caused flooding.

Even after coming back from her trip down in the sewers where she had been held, she soon begun to enjoy summer more and more, trying to spend more days outside, laying in grass or walking around, the sun-rays beating down on her back, making sure she reminded herself to put sun block on before heading out.

She had enjoyed spending her life away from her home; home reminded her of her mom, and the loneliness she felt sometimes. When she was outside, she felt free, to enjoy watching other kids younger than her enjoy the sunshine before it all went away once the fall season hit.

She was glad that her mom was away for how ever long it would be for. At least she would get some time to herself to think about things without her mom bugging her. It may of been lonely at dinner, but at least she could sit around and know she wasn't feeling awkward with her being at home too, for usually she would just head upstairs when she was finished.

This day was normal, apart, instead of Y/N laying in the grass outside near the park, she was this time, sitting in the quiet yet cool library. She was leaning her elbow on the desk, her fingers drumming against the table as she waited for what she needed badly.

It made her laugh how dead it was inside her, and for good reason. No-one would want to spend their break indoors in a library. Her thoughts preoccupied the little friends she had, and yet, she did think good of how she would spend the rest of her summer.

Maybe she would go and try sketching? There was some beauty around her, and she did enjoy drawing when it wasn't in her bedroom and she was just drawing whatever came to her mind-

-"Here it is!" A large thud was heard just beside her head, making her jolt upright. She looked to the large massive book that had thudded on the desk she was sitting at, the old lady or the librarian standing just to her side.

The History of Derry it read on the front, and Y/N knew how old it looked, from the large amount of dust that had formed on top of the cover.

"Didn't take that long to find," the librarian begun, picking it up slightly and blowing hard on the cover, layers of dust blowing right into Y/N's face.

She crinkled her nose slightly, trying to show she wasn't irritated by that, "some kid maybe younger came in here few days ago looking for the same thing." she grinned.

Y/N nodded, trying to remain polite, "Thank you." she murmured, perching herself forward in the uncomfortable chair, but to her dismay, the librarian wouldn't leave. "Usually we don't get many kids coming in this time of year, they're usually all playing in the sun and trying to avoid school."

Even though the she was trying to be kind and make a joke of this situation, Y/N was trying to concentrate on all of this, without having to know there was a woman standing over her, mocking her for being indoors with no friends.

"I-I'm not like most kids... just refreshing my memory on this, you know?" Y/N spoke, trying to not grind her teeth as the woman finally understood. She hummed, lightly tapping her shoulder as she moved away, and Y/N could finally relax.

She wasn't alone in the library, but it weren't kids there, mainly just adults, sitting quietly with a book in their hands and their heads in them. She got to work, or what she needed to do, flipping the thick large book open, and begun randomly shuffling through pages.

There was a lot of history that Y/N knew some about: most of it she had learnt about during Middle School. There tonnes of old black and white photos skewered around small text, some telling of events that mapped Derry as it is now today.

She was just flipping through, looking carefully at photos, turning the next page to see the headline of an old timely newspaper article, the date going back to 1908.

She knew of this event, remembering it as she shivered, mainly from history lessons. A light breeze danced across her shoulders, dismissing it as much as possible as it only being an open window.

She continued, looking at more events: 91 people vanishing without a trace at a beaver camp, a trail of bloody clothes leading straight to the Well House, The Black Spot burning down, and many more.

She sighed, leaning back as she tried to think that these events must've been cause by some greater threat, that It had something to do with not just the missing dead children, but also the events of accidents too. It had occurred to her that if she had even mentioned the fact that all missing children were floating in the sewers of a killer clown's lair to the cops, they would think of her as more loony that anyone supposed for a mental ward.

"Accidents do happen~" she heard the voice behind her, and she almost threw the book upwards towards the ceiling for the scare.

Damn, It's here, watching me. She thought, trying to calm her ticking heartbeat, clutching her chest before it soothed.Of course though, what would you expect from a child killing clown that didn't kill you?

Even from all these old timely events and accidents, this clown known as Pennywise must've had a cause for it all, and these events weren't all just recent, it had been dated back more than 4 centuries ago. She had come to realise that It was more than just a strange clown living in dirty gray water, it was a being far greater than all of us.

She was still scrolling through, until three photos caught her attention, all piled on one page. The first one was of what looked like a painting or illustration. It was of a painting of a large open green field, and in the middle was a large well, with a woman drawn walking to it, cradling something in her arms.

It had made Y/N realise that it was infact her baby she was swaddling, and if she was correct, that woman was handing her own child over for It to take.

She shuddered more, turning her gaze to the text below of the painting, written in italics that she thought weren't possible.

Everyone floats eventually Y/N.

She ripped her gaze from it, turning to the next photo, one that depicted one of the founding fathers, and ever so faintly, drawn in-between those of men surrounding, she just about saw the familiar face of shadowy outline of the clown, a look that depicted what looked like a sinister smile.

The third one was the most chilling. It had taken Y/N back, rapidly blinking to see if it was true or not. She was indecisive, her breathing caught in the back of her throat at the site of the image. It must've been an oil painting or another illustration of an event, the text at the bottom wrote,

'DERRY, 1809'.

It showed what looked like a basic drawing of what Derry's town looked like, apart from how different everything looked like way before the year they're in now.

Even from the basic shapes and outlines, Y/N could outline a person face, her finger lightly tracing over the faces carefully, one that she had noticed was odd.

She noticed the details of the woman's face; from their H/C elegant hair tied upwards, the heavy dress she wore looked heavy and stuffy to wear, but the thing that stood out was why did this woman look exactly like her?

She didn't want to find out anything else, in fact, she was so creeped out that there was someone nearly 180 years ago that looked very similar to her, that she had had enough.

She slammed the book shut, causing some to abruptly jolt, but she was too busy to think of them. She heaved the book into the nearest shelf, getting out from the seat as her legs felt stiff and wobbly.

She peeled her legs from the sticky chair before gathering her things and getting out as quickly as she could, ignoring those who she knew were confused and looking at her.