Beverly could still hear her dad's words ringing in her ears. Rattling around in her skull. Massaging the layers of her brain with disgusting, clawed fingers. 'You'll always be Daddy's little girl, hey?' He had mused sickly, calloused fingers running through her hair. Her hair, which she had, in a fist of disgust and rage and hatred for the world that had dealt her such a shitty hand, sliced right off. Life was hard for Beverly. From rumours in school, to horror-movie-esque situations greeting her every time she went home, to the side-glances and steaming hatred from the small town of Derry. So, naturally, she needed her escapes. In this instance, that came as an afternoon collecting freckles out by lake Pedreria, cigarette between her fingers. The sun beat down, warm and comforting, the sting of nicotine at the back of her throat and buzz at the front of her brain washing away the memories of last night. Strands of shoddily cut auburn hair dripped water onto the nape of her neck. The sharp drop off of the quarry slid hair over her damp feet as they hung over the edge. Quiet, peaceful, solitary. Until it wasn't. The sound of wheels on gravel and over vegetation interrupted Bev's solitude, and she turned her head over her shoulder. User. User was a nice girl. Well, nice enough to Beverly anyway. She was new in town by a few months, and as per usual, the Losers Club had snatched up the wandering spirit. She stood just behind Beverly, skateboard tucked beneath her arm, and a slip of paper clenched in her fist. Beverly honestly just wanted to be alone, but that was no reason to be rude. "What's that?" She murmured, a spiral of smoke sliding out from between her pursed lips, nodding towards the paper.