Chapter 35

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Richie was under the impression that he would be locked in a concrete room with no windows and one-sided glass. He assumed he would be interrogated of his parents' whereabouts as if they had just killed a man and Richie is their only suspect. That didn't happen, of course, but it still took some time for Richie to process what had actually happened.

Him and Eddie were separated almost the second they walked into the police station. Eddie was guided towards a waiting room of some sorts, and given a dollar for the vending machine. Richie, however, was taken to a man behind a desk, a computer sitting on top.

Richie had only seen a computer a couple times in his life. There were two in the school library, but both had games disabled and were purely for research only. There was always someone inhabiting the seats in front of them, however, so Richie never got to experience the technology himself. Here, however, he was sat right next to the computer screen. He stared at the computer, at how it was less boxy than the ones at school, his eyes following the wires down beneath the desk and disappearing to some place he cannot seat. The keyboard looked less clunky, too. Richie guesses that this is where the taxpayer's dollar is being spent; the police having up to date innovative technology.

The man asked a lot of questions, some that seemed irrelevant. He asked about Richie's birthday and where his dad works. Richie answered everything the best he could, but there were some questions that were left blank, such as "When was the last time that you saw your parents?"

When the interview finally ended, the man started printing directly from the computer, and Richie was fascinated by it. Before he could stay and see the result of the quiz he had just taken, another officer was guiding him by the arm out of the office area. As he walked down the hall, a door opened up in front of him, and the last person he expected to see walks out from the doorway.

Henry Bowers.

Certainly Henry was no stranger to the police station, being taken down for petty crimes such as vandalism and loitering. But this was different, the timing was too convenient, and Richie was being taken into the exact same room that Henry had just been coming out of.

"You fucking told them," Richie blurts out, his eyes pouring into Henry's. He feels himself grit his teeth, his fists clenching at his sides as bile begins to rise in his throat. "You called the fucking police on me, you piece of shit."

The officer that's guiding Richie tightens his grip on the thin arm hidden beneath a jean jacket, pulling him back from Henry in just the slightest.

Henry looks away, guilt evident all over his expression. He moves like an injured rabbit, one that's just had its lucky foot cut off. It's a familiar walk, Richie knows the way he limps quite well. He knows that if Richie were to lift up Henry's coat right now, he would see belt lashes and welts raising all over Henry's pale skin. He went too far this time, Henry's dad. He went too far and Henry felt cornered to telling someone. But instead, he panicked and ratted Richie out rather than telling the truth about what really goes on. After all, his father is the sheriff.

"I was worried," Henry says dejectedly. He is at a low, maybe his lowest point, and he doesn't really need nor want Richie's opinion of him being added onto that pile. But Richie doesn't care, he's going to kick Henry while he's down.

"You don't have the right to be worried!" Richie spits, trying to twist his arm free of the officer's grip. The man only tightens his hand, now attempting to coax Richie into the tiny room. But Richie is done being complacent, he's done giving up. He's fighting back so that Eddie doesn't have to. "You don't get to be worried after you held a knife to my fucking throat!"

Then, Richie is shoved into the room, and the door is shut. He stands there, rigid with anger, his hands shaking in fury as he tries to swallow the betrayal he just experienced. Henry doesn't have the right. He just doesn't.

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