Alicia watched her feet pacing below her. Right, left, right, left, right, left; one foot in front of the other, carrying her step by step closer to her destination as the pavement disappeared behind her. In her right hand, she clutched her sketchbook tightly. It held the only pictures she had left, and they were going to serve a purpose that day other than just covering up the space on her walls.

She'd slept on the couch last night due to the fact that she couldn't sleep in her own room for a reason she couldn't understand. It just didn't feel like her bedroom anymore; the empty walls almost scared her when she looked at them.

Alicia looked up to see the Neibolt house nearing her. She swallowed the stubborn lump in her throat before passing through the overgrown gate and stopping on the front porch. She thought of the moment when Bill had stood in that very spot, ready to go tearing through the house on his own if he had to. She had called him crazy, and yet here she was, ready to do the exact same thing. For what? She hardly knew. It reminded her of when she had wandered into the Neibolt house of her own accord. She had been convinced the house was calling to her, and she had answered that call. She had answered it, despite her fear and better judgement. People said that the definition of insanity was repeating the same actions over and over and expecting a different result each time. Did that make Alicia insane, or just incredibly stupid?

She stepped into the house and looked around. Of course, nothing had changed since her last visit. She made her way into the basement where the entrance to the well stood, dust-choked and broken down. She moved over to the edge of it and peered down. The darkness yawned up at her, sending chills up her spine. She gave herself a shake, pondering how she would get down there. She unsnapped the little flashlight she had attached to her belt. It was small but it had a powerful beam and would suffice. She shone it around the room, catching sight of a thick rope lying in a heap on the floor. She picked it up, fastening it to one of the support beams in the room and tying the end around herself and her sketchbook. She put the flashlight in her mouth before lowering herself down into the seemingly endless abyss. She found an opening to the sewer in the side of the well and climbed into it, taking her sketchbook back in hand and withdrawing a small roll of tape from the back pocket in her pants. Opening her sketchbook, she ripped out one of her drawings and taped it onto the side of the tunnel. It was to be her first marker, her way of finding her way back out of that hellhole. Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward, forging her way through the eerie space, placing markers as she went. She turned down tunnel after tunnel, becoming increasingly aware of her solitude. She pushed on even as doubts started spilling into her mind, warning her to turn back before it was too late. She asked herself again why she was there. It couldn't possibly be to find some silly old drawings. Was it to prove something to herself, or to someone else?

She shivered as a draft hit her. She stopped dead as a thought hit her. How could there be a draft down in the sewers? It had to have come from somewhere. She started hurrying in the direction it had come, feeling suddenly excited. Was there another exit nearby? She halted only a couple times to place markers. Eventually, she reached a thick metal door barring her path. She went to open it when she realized it was already standing open a few inches. As she peered through the opening she felt a breeze hit her face. That's where the draft had come from. She pushed the heavy door open further and stepped into a massive cistern with an open grate at the top showing a pale light. By that light, she could see what looked like a tower reaching almost up to the grate. Around it there were things floating. Alicia couldn't see what they were so she moved closer. They looked like...they looked like...

Alicia paled, clamping a hand over her mouth to keep from screaming. They were bodies, some with their limbs torn off, all just hovering over the tower. Only, the tower turned out to be a pile of junk: wagons, tricycles, tattered pieces of clothes, toys, and countless other things which no doubt once belonged to the unfortunate victims of Pennywise. And even worse, plastered across the walls surrounding Alicia were her drawings. She took a couple deep breaths to steady herself after the shock, then raced over and started pulling pictures off the walls, becoming more and more frantic as she worked. She knew she wouldn't be able to get them all, but she would get as many as she could.

A sudden resounding clang made Alicia whip around with a gasp. Her eyes swept the area but she could find nothing. She turned back to her pictures, tearing them off the wall with mounting vigor.

"You can't have my drawings. You can't have my drawings. You can't have my drawings," she muttered under her breath, feeling a knot form in her stomach.

As she reiterated the words, she began to understand the underlying logic that had "called" her to that place. She knew full well it was idiotic to risk her life for her drawings, but her heart told her that they were too much a part of her for her to leave them behind. For her, it was almost as bad as being trapped down there herself.

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

"Alicia!"

Alicia turned, her arms full of sheets of paper with no hope of defending herself. She saw Pennywise immediately; he was crouching at the foot of the tower of junk like an animal ready to spring. He was grinning at her, his eyes gleaming yellow in the semidarkness.

"You finally came to visit me!" he simpered.

Alicia let everything fall; her flashlight, her sketchbook, and her drawings all scattered across the floor. She bolted, hardly knowing where she was going. Pennywise was up in a flash, tripping her up from behind. Alicia hit the hard floor, trying to worm away from the clown. He grabbed her legs and flipped her over, laughing hysterically at her. He opened his mouth wide, his fangs glinting cruelly. His head snapped downward and Alicia felt his teeth rip through the skin of her lower right leg. She did the only thing she could do: she inflated her lungs and screamed for all she was worth. She screamed until she thought she'd deafen herself. She screamed until her lungs burned. She screamed until she thought she'd faint. Black circles were beginning to appear at the edge of her vision by the time she stopped. Pennywise suddenly let go of her, and she was up on her feet in a second. She reached the far wall of the cistern, looking for an escape. She couldn't remember where she'd come in anymore; the adrenaline running through her was fogging up her brain. She senselessly began pounding against the walls, still screaming uncontrollably, blood streaming down her injured leg. A hand gripped her shoulder, making her lash out wildly. An arm wound itself around her, securing her arms to her side and pulling her back.

"No! No! No!" Alicia shrieked.

No one was there to hear her. No one was there to help. She was going to die; she knew it. She closed her eyes, breaking out into sobs. She heard a quiet shushing noise in her ear.

"Alicia..."

Alicia wished he would just shut up and end it, rip out her throat like Patrick's and kill her before she knew a thing about it.

"Now we're even."

Alicia fell silent, her eyes flying open. Even? They were even? Her mind flashed back to that moment in her bedroom when she had stabbed Pennywise in the throat. She had hurt him, now he had hurt her. So they were even. But, did that mean...

"Alicia, how could you think for one second that I would want to kill you? I told you before, didn't I? We're friends."

"Then what do you want with me?" Alicia whimpered, "Why have you been scaring me out of my wits? I thought you needed to eat children to survive."

"I want us to be allies," Pennywise said, "I shouldn't need to remind you what you've already done for me. All I ask is that you make it more of a routine. You give me victims; I'll take care of the rest."

"That's sick and disgusting! I would never be the cause of another kid's death!"

"Never?" Pennywise giggled, "But you already have."

"And if I refuse to be your ally? What then?" Alicia asked warily.

"You're expecting me to say I'll kill you. I won't."

"Why?!"

"Because I know you'll change your mind, one way or another."

Alicia felt Pennywise's grip open up, allowing her to break away from him. She paused, gazing back at him as if suspecting some sort of trickery.

He simply smiled down at her, "I'll look forward to your next visit."

Alicia edged around him, breaking into a run and snatching up her little flashlight as she passed it. She found the door through which she'd come, stopping for one last look over her shoulder. The clown was standing there, staring at her. He made no move toward her. Alicia stepped back into the sewer tunnels, closing the door tightly shut behind her and backing away from it, half-expecting something to come tearing through it after her. When she was firmly convinced nothing was chasing her, she sprinted off down the tunnels, following her trail of drawings back to the well. A thousand questions were ramming against the inside of her skull. Could she trust what Pennywise had said? Had she really been safe all along? Or was he toying with her? Was he saving her for last like some kind of dessert? Did he have some sort of plan for her? Did he really want or need an ally?

Was he right about her?

She emerged from the well, pulling up the rope and casting it aside on the floor. She had come to that horrid place to rescue years of work from rotting in the sewer, but instead she had only lost more, and now her sketchbook was lying down there and she was injured. She looked down at her leg, rolling up her pants so she could see the wound. She inhaled sharply at the sight of it. Her leg was thoroughly covered in blood; she needed to get out of there as fast as possible and treat it.

She limped home as fast as she could, trying to avoid being seen as much as she could. She figured it wouldn't go too well if some stranger saw a kid walking around with their leg looking like it just got torn up by animal. She didn't want to deal with any questions or delays. She thanked heaven that her mother was at work; she would've been hysterical if she'd seen Alicia's state.

Alicia stumbled into her house, racing to the bathroom and running cold water from the tub over her wound. She watched the tainted red water run down the drain in what seemed like an endless flood. She broke out the first aid kit in the house and bandaged up her leg as best she could. She knew she would have to go to the hospital sooner or later, and she figured it would be easier to do it sooner. She had no money but she knew the doctors would doubtless find a way to contact her mother and get her over there. The easiest explanation for the wound would be an animal attack.

Alicia moved slowly down the hall past her bedroom. The door was standing open, and as she passed she saw a bright projection of color out of the corner of her eye. She turned her head to look at it directly. There, scrawled across her wall in bright red letters were the words "Thanks for the pictures."