The rain rattled against the windows of the library; the steady sound was soothing in Alicia's ears as she started shading in the character she was drawing. She loved to draw; it calmed her.

Alicia was only twelve but she had an amazing gift. Some people called her an artist and praised her work up and down. In art class, even the teacher couldn't draw as well as her, causing her to be the target of some rather unkind comments from jealous students. At first, the comments had all been encouraging, but it hadn't taken them long to turn nasty. Eventually it had gotten so bad that she had quit art class and stopped showing people her drawings. She had gone from an already shy but relatively happy child, to an extremely withdrawn and insecure girl. She wore her long, dirty-blonde hair down so it would hide her face; she never talked unless she had to.

Her deep brown eyes traced the lines of her drawing, making sure everything was just so.

The librarian's harsh voice suddenly jarred her out of her calm; she looked up quickly to see a disapproving face gazing down on her.

"Young lady, how many times do I have to tell you my library is not the place for you to do your scribbling?" the librarian growled, snatching the sketchbook out of her hands.

"Wait, please!" Alicia protested, leaping to her feet.

The librarian looked over the drawing. It depicted a young girl standing out in the open looking off into the distance. Her face held a certain serenity in it, yet at the same time the picture had a feeling of loneliness.

The librarian's lips pressed themselves into a firm line. Then she shoved the book back into Alicia's hands.

"I suggest you go home now," she said firmly, "Your parents will be missing you by now, I'd think."

Alicia bit her lip, hugging her sketchbook close to her. She'd only just moved into Derry nearly a year ago; not too many people knew much about her family.

"You mean my mother," Alicia corrected, "I don't have a father. He died before my first birthday."

The librarian gave her an odd look, "I don't see how that's any of my business, young lady."

"Alicia," Alicia murmured, "My name's Alicia."

With that, she turned and walked out. She only got as far as the entrance, however, when she heard the shouts.

"Hey, creep!"

She looked up to see Henry Bowers and his gang standing nearby. She felt a sudden knot in her stomach. She clutched her book tighter and set out with determined steps toward home, hoping they would leave her alone. She had no such luck.

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"Oh, what's she drawing now?" Patrick Hockstetter came up from behind her and ripped the sketchbook out of her grasp.

"Give it back!" she cried, but they ignored her.

They crowded around Patrick as he flipped through her drawings, exposing them to the relentless rain. Alicia wondered why they had even bothered coming out on such a dismal day. Didn't they have anything better to do?

"Please—" Alicia began, reaching out her hands to take the book back.

Patrick snapped it shut and raised it high above his head. For fourteen, he was surprisingly tall. His eyes met hers, daring her to do something about it.

"Please what?" he taunted.

Alicia felt the rain soaking through her clothes and drizzling down her back, adding to her discomfort.

"My book..." she whimpered.

"You want it back? Go fetch!"

Alicia watched as her precious sketchbook soared through the air and landed in middle of a swirling puddle of rain water. The boys all snickered.

"Great shot!" Belch said.

Alicia went to get the book but she stopped short and let out a shriek as a searing pain ripped through her scalp. Henry Bowers had his hand closed firmly around her long, wet hair.

"Have a great day, creep," he whispered in her ear before letting go.

She raced across the street and snatched up her book, tears stinging her eyes as she listened to the boys' cruel laughter. She couldn't understand how anyone could be so malicious toward someone they hardly knew and had done them no harm. She ran as hard as she could toward home, where she would be safe. Well, safe from Henry Bowers and his gang at least. She generally preferred the library over her own home because she couldn't stand the stench of cigarettes. Her mom incessantly smoked, and there wasn't a corner of the house that was free from the smell. No matter how many air-fresheners she placed in her room, she could still smell those horrid cigarettes. It kept her up at night and nearly drove her crazy.

Alicia froze suddenly as she heard the sound of voices. She looked up to see a small figure wearing a yellow raincoat peering into a storm drain. He hadn't noticed her, and Alicia wanted to keep it that way. She crossed to the opposite side of the street and pressed herself against one of the houses, watching the child curiously. She could definitely hear him talking, and from what she could make out, it didn't sound like he was talking to himself. He started giggling suddenly. Alicia couldn't help herself; she stepped away from the house, edging closer to the boy.

Then he started screaming.

Alicia stopped dead, a feeling of dread abruptly clutching her heart. She was about to jump forward to help the child when he broke away from the drain, turning and crawling toward her while crying hysterically. Alicia stared; it was all she could do. She stood there paralyzed, her eyes stretched wide in horror.

The boy's arm was completely gone except for a bleeding stump. The rainwater around Alicia's feet was turning a bright red. The boy looked up at her, his eyes filled with terror.

"Help!" he sobbed, "Help!"

Alicia exhaled shakily, still unable to move. Her eyes fell on the storm drain and she saw a flash of dark yellow. She blinked and looked again. Eyes. There were eyes staring back at her, but in a split second, they disappeared. Alicia took an involuntary step back, her eyes fixed on the storm drain. She was shaking uncontrollably, staring wildly as a gloved hand extended itself from the drain and locked itself around the boy's ankle. He screamed, pleading for help but Alicia never moved.

"Billy!" the child screamed suddenly as he was pulled into the drain out of sight.

Alicia's grip on her sketchbook tightened until her knuckles went white. She still stared fixedly at the drain. There was something there, lurking in the darkness. A white face framing the two yellow eyes she'd seen a moment ago was staring back at her, a distorted smile etched on its blood red lips.

"Alicia..."

Alicia's sketchbook hit the pavement at her feet, sending up a spray of blood-stained rain water. Her fingernails dug into her face.

And she screamed.