"It's nothing," Bev says automatically, then bites her lip.

"I mean, if you haven't seen it outside of him, you wouldn't be able to tell me--"

She breaks off again, hugging herself, every movement full of a nervous, coltish energy.

"Something kind of like that happened where I live. Only it wasn't really happening to just one person. It sort of happened a little bit to my whole town."

Not just her father that day, but the men who had seen her running away from him, and just laughed. Henry Bowers with his switchblade. It, everywhere in Derry. Filling the hollow places.