Eddie Kaspbrak (
germhating_hypochondriac) wrote in
maskormenace2020-03-20 11:55 pm
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video memory share and text message
[You're cradling a broken arm and panicking, running out of a dilapidated house with your friends. Richie and Bill never leave your side, even though you know they can run faster. You get to your bikes and before you can even ask how you're going to ride - Mike lifts you up and gently places you in his bike basket. You can hear Richie cursing the entire way. All of you are terrified as you escape. Once you reach safety, your friends call your mom. They keep you company until she arrives, each comforting you in their own way. You're in pain and scared, but you also feel loved.
Your mother arrives and grabs you by your good arm, pulling you away from your friends. She points to your friends with her free hand and yells at them, blaming them for you being hurt. She then moves that hand to the back of your neck, tightly enough to hurt and talks about how delicate you are. Bill tries to explain what happened. You mom shoves you into her car and continues blaming your friends. In her rage, she drops her keys. Bev moves to pick them up for her. Your mom yells at her, saying horrible things, calling her a dirty girl. Bill tries to explain again and your mother yells out more angry words. She calls your friends monsters and tells them that you're done with them.
Your mom gets in the car and drives, taking you away from your friends. She talks the whole way to the hospital, reminding you that your're weak, scaring you with the idea that your arm might need surgery - which could lead to infection and amputation. She claims that happened to a friend of hers. She sets new rules too. She tells you that you'll need more sleep and will need a dark room to rest in. That's horrible. You've always been afraid of the dark and with the clown still out there, the dark is even scarier. She says you're only to leave the house to go to the pharmacy when you need more pills. And worst of all, that you are never to see you friends again. You feel so helpless, all you do is cry.]
[Your arm is set in a cast and healing. You've been following your mother's new rules and feeling sorry for yourself. You get a phone call that changes that. Bev has been kidnapped by Pennywise. Your friends need you. You're about to leave when your mother blocks your way, telling you that you can't go because of your sickness.
"My sickness? Okay, what sickness, Ma?" You ask and show her your bottle of pills. "You know what these are? They're gazebos!" You yell angrily and throw the bottle onto the floor. "They're bullshit!"
Your mother looks down at the pills and back at you. "They help you, Eddie. I had to protect you." She claims.
You realize in that moment that everything your mother has taught you is bullshit. "Protect me? By lying to me? By keeping me locked inside this hellhole?! I'm sorry, but the only people that were actually trying to protect me were my friends. And you made me turn my back on them when I really needed them. So I'm going." You tell her and run right past her, out the door.
She follows you, ordering you to come back, then begging and pleading.
You look back at her only long enough to say "Sorry, mom, I gotta go save my friends!" In that moment, you don't feel weak at all. You feel strong enough to kill a clown-monster. Because your friends are worth it.
[There is a single text message from Eddie.]
I know the word is placebos now.
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Sorry. This sucks.
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[It wasn't the worst memories that were shared. If it wasn't for the gazebos mistake, he might even be proud of the second memory. But still..]
These swear in people have to learn to do safety checks, to keep out monsters and that private shit is private!
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[Anyway. He switches to private for this next part.]
I know we don't really know each other but you doing okay?
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Private
Yeah, I'm okay. Those weren't the worst memories. Just embarrassing.
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private text;
You doing alright?
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I'm okay.
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This whole mess is a bunch of birdshit right now, but I'm sure it'll blow over before you know it.
Anyway, I'm sure there's more people out there who need saving, or some shit. You need some kind of distraction, I'm sure we could cook up something.
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[Eddie reads and re-reads the text.She saw him being a crybaby, saw his own mother calling him weak and delicate and sick, all his worst fears about himself.]
You'd really want to let me help again?
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[She considers that memory again. That minder, who couldn't really be called a "mother" in her opinion, locking him up like he's not even a person. No freedom, no choice.]
Of course, if that's what you want, we'd probably have to work out a better system somehow. Because while I'm sure flying around with me while I'm beating the shit out of some criminals or whatever is fun, there's some chance it could turn bad real fast.
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[He's weak, he's small, he's sick. He can think of so many reasons, all the bullshit that his mother made him believe and that still feels real. There's no friend on the line now, no personal motivation that's stronger than his fears.]
Maybe there's a way I could give you directions over this communicator thing. As long as I can go with you if Richie is ever in trouble again.
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action bc they’re prob in the same room
I saw. [There’s an apologetic note to his voice. He hadn’t meant to.] That was really fucking ballsy.
[His fingers are barely inches from Eddie’s. It’s a lot.]
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I barely remember it. [He admits softly.] I just remember that Bev, and all of you needed me.
[He opens the bag, takes a few chips for himself and holds the bag out for Richie to take some.]
I can be brave when I'm being brave for my friends.
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[Much braver than Richie himself, terrified of something inside himself that he can’t help. Less terrified now, but still—he can’t tell Eddie. Not yet.]
You got a magic flying lady to fly you to a ship that kept spawning monsters and you didn’t even piss your pants. That’s fucking brave if you ask me.
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[He shakes his head, in denial that he could be brave. The Eddie that stood up to his mother feels almost like another kid entirely.]
That wasn't being brave. The idea of you never being able to feel again was scarier than fighting the monsters. That's all. And I like my pants.
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[He pauses a moment. Then adds:] And imagine how gross you'd feel if you had to fight monsters with piss running down your leg.
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[He makes a face.] Ew! Gross! That's as bad as grey water.
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text;
But for what it's worth
You seemed really brave going to help your friends
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I felt brave then.
My friends are braver, 'cause they're brave all the time.
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I think it might be harder to be brave if you're not used to doing it
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A lot of people don't get that.
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