Chapter Text
Depression. In psychiatry, depression is defined as a condition of general emotional dejection and withdrawal;sadness greater and more prolonged than that warranted by any objective reason.What gives doctors the fucking right to determine how long sadness should be allowed? Human beings can’t be so easily summed up as a definition from some generic dictionary. Human beings feel and react. Bill Denbrough was depressed, but how dare anyone tell him that he was labeled as this because he was still hung up over the death of his baby brother? How dare someone put a time limit on how long he could grieve? Four years was not enough time to get over the loss of someone he loved with his whole heart, to get over Georgie.
For Bill, his depression manifested itself differently than the stupid definition Dr. Rhodes had given his parents, different than the brochures that had sat unread on the Denbrough’s kitchen counter. A feeling which makes you think there is no hope, no way to survive, and no point in carrying on this charade you called a life. A feeling which is so emotionally pressing, you feel as if you're going to explode with tears. Sadness, hopelessness, loss of interest, persistent boredom, social isolation, poor communication, low self esteem, guilt, extreme sensitivity to failure, increased irritability, difficulty with relationships, poor concentration, insomnia, self-harm, and thoughts of suicide. Bill knew the feelings well. Too well arguably.
He was thirteen when it happened. It had been raining for days, the rain itself wasn’t uncommon in the small town of Derry, Maine, but it was the abundance of it that was concerning. Bill had come down with a bad cold, fever spiking, and aches plaguing his whole body. He wanted to stay in bed, wrapped up away from the world. His little brother Georgie had different plans and had bounded into his room, the door slamming as it hit the wall and jolted Bill from his nap. He rubbed his face, and struggled to sit up without falling over. Georgie was sitting on the end of his bed, looking at him with big wonder filled eyes.
“Billy! Will you come outside with me pleeeeeeeeease?” Georgie begged, “Mom and Dad said that they’re too busy, but I want to let the S.S. Georgie float through the water! It would be so cool, Billy!”
“Georgie, y-you know I c-can’t go outside. I’m s-sick.” Bill felt bad, shutting him down, but even sitting up in bed was causing his head to spin, walking and going outside, especially in the bad weather, wasn’t a possibility. “W-why don’t you just w-wait until Dad can g-go out with you, I’m s-sure that after t-the football g-game is over, he w-wouldn’t mind.” Georgie pouted, upset from not getting the answer he wanted, but began formulating another plan in his head.
“Okay, Billy. I’ll wait for dad.” He gave Bill a hug before sliding off of the bed and leaving the room. Bill’s fever took over again and he fell back asleep. He had fitful dreams of an evil clown terrorizing his town. His friends Beverly, Ben, and Mike were there, but there were also three other boys present who he didn’t know. It was bloody and horrific, a pure nightmare. Bill woke with a start when Dream Bill had found a yellow raincoat that looked just like Georgie’s.
“Georgie! Georgie! Georgie!” He wailed as he shot out of his bed, panic filling him. He rushed across the hall to Georgie’s room, but he wasn’t in there. He shot down the stairs, but all he saw was his father watching the game on tv. His mother was in the kitchen, flipping through some magazine. “M-mom. Where’s G-Georgie?” Bill asked frantically, she sighed as she closed her magazine and looked up at her eldest son.
“I don’t know, William. He said that you were taking him outside to sail his boat that you made him.I think the better question is, why are you here asking me where he is when you should be with him?” She asked with a bored tone.
“I...I told h-him that I c-couldn’t because I’m s-sick.” Bill was panicking, and his mother’s blaise attitude was not helping. “H-he went outside?” Bill didn’t wait for her answer, he already knew that it would be unhelpful. He raced to the front door, pulling his boots and jacket on and headed out into the storm. He searched the streets of Derry, checking everywhere that he could, but it was no use. He couldn’t find Georgie.
In the end, it’s the police that found his body. Floating in the shallow waters of the Barrens. He drowned in the filth of the storm drain, alone and scared. At least that’s what the officers hypothesized. Bill wasn’t there to protect him, to save him.
His father shut down, he showed almost no emotion in the months after Georgie’s death, except for the occasional fit of anger and disgust towards his other son. His mother sobbed uncontrollably, mourning the loss of her perfect little boy. They blamed him. They both thought it was his fault that Georgie was dead. If Bill had gone with him...If Bill hadn’t made that stupid boat and encouraged him to let it float...If Bill had never been born.
Bill cuts himself for the first time six weeks after Georgie’s body is found. He sliced into the flesh of his forearm with an old razor blade from his father’s shaving kit. He cut himself just to see if he could still feel anything at all. As the blood seeped out of the wound in crimson beads, Bill felt relief. His heart was still aching with the pain of loss, but the immediate pain was in his arm, and he was controlling it. He pressed a dark towel to him arm, waiting for the bleeding to stop, before washing the wound in the sink and putting a bandage on it. The overwhelming numbness took over his body again shortly after.
Self harm became Bill’s go to in the years that followed. What had started as a single cut once a month to keep feeling had escalated. By the time he was seventeen, even pressing three or four lines in a day wasn’t enough. His arms and legs were littered with the scars of cuts, that he carefully kept covered with pants and sweaters. During baseball season, he would only make marks on his legs, where his uniform pants and socks would cover. He would make excuses for not changing with the other guys as well. Bill had become very good at covering up his habit. Not even his best friends knew.
Bev suspected. Of course she did. Beverly Marsh could read Bill Denbrough like a book. She knew that he was still suffering from the loss of his brother, knew that even though he was forced into therapy by ty the school guidance counselor and was being pumped full of anti-depressants that it wasn’t enough. Bill was self medicating, she just wasn’t sure how. Beverly worried about what would happen when Bill went too far, he had been on the edge for far too long, and she knew he would soon tumble over.
It’s the fourth anniversary of Georgie’s death. Bill wakes up to an empty house, his parents nowhere to be found. It’s not unusual for them to be missing without an explanation, they stopped caring about him long ago. Bill pushes the door open to Georgie’s room, it’s exactly as the little boy left it. Filled with toys and memories of happier times. Of the promise that Georgie’s life had once held. It feels so wrong to Bill. So wrong to have this time capsule from what feels like a different life. Bill feels the tears dripping down his face, he can’t handle it anymore. He closes the door and pulls on his sneakers, grabbing his special pouch and leaves.
He rides Silver down to the Barrens. It’s where Georgie’s body was found floating so long ago. Bill drops the bike, and wades down into the water. He sits there for a few minutes. Looking around, tears still streaming. Life is so cruel. So uncaring. Bill opens the drawstring of his pouch and pulls out the two objects that are inside. He let’s the little paper boat float in the water, the “S.S. Georgie and Bill” written in black marker visible over the waterline, and turns the razor blade over in his hands.He knows what he has to do.
“I’m coming, Georgie. I’ll be with you soon.We’ll float together.” Bill whispers. Bill digs the razors blade into his left arm and slices deep, from wrist to elbow, he slices across his wrist just to be sure, and with his shaking left hand repeats the actions on his right arm. He submerges his arms into the water, a pool of blood circling him. As the light fades around him, he sees a red balloon and he swears that he can hear Georgie’s giggle, but he’s already gone.
“Bill! Oh my God, Bill!” Beverly is screaming, she had a dark feeling in her heart, she just knew something was wrong with her friend. She had dragged her boyfriend Ben out of bed, insisting that he help her find their friend Bill. Mike had already been to Bill’s house and confirmed that he wasn’t there when the three of them met up. The Barrens, they had all known at once that they needed to get there as soon as possible. Now they were climbing over the rocks, trying to find their friend. “Bill Denbrough, I swear to God…” Bev froze, she sees a figure slumped over the rocks a few yards ahead, and she takes off running, screaming for Mike and Ben to go get help.
She holds Bill’s face in her hands, his eyes are unfocused. She reaches for his wrist to check for a pulse, but sees the damage that he had done.
“Holy shit, Bill. What’d you do to yourself?” She mutters, before looking over he shoulder at Ben, “We need to try to slow the bleeding! We...we have to press down on the wounds.” Bev rips her shirt over her head, and wraps Bill’s left arm, pressing into the wound, Ben does the same for his right arm. She reaches out with her other hand to feel Bill’s throat for a pulse. It’s there but it’s faint. “Where the fuck is Mike?!? He needs help! He’s going to die!” Beverly is sobbing, her best friend lying motionless in the water.
“He’s coming back, Bev. He went to get someone, to call for an ambulance. It’s going to be alright.” He reassures calmly. He knows that Bev and Bill share a special bond, and though he sometimes gets jealous over this fact because he knows that they used to date, he clamps it down. He loves Beverly with his whole heart, and trusts her. He loves Bill, he is his friend, and he understands that Bev needs to be there for him sometimes.
The paramedics arrive less than five minutes later. They pull Bill from the water and onto a stretcher, and race him to Derry Memorial Hospital. Bev, Ben, and Mike sit shivering and shaking in the waiting area of the Emergency Room. Hoping desperately that one of the nurses will tell them how Bill is doing. After an hour of waiting, they see Bill’s parents walk into the ER. They pay no mind to the three teenagers covered in gray water and their son’s blood. Their faces are blank, and they are taken down a back hallway.
Mike decides that now is as good of a time as ever and that he is getting answers. He’s usually kind and even tempered, but there is nothing about this situation that is allowing him to be of sound mind. He walks up to the counter and waits for the young and pretty nurse to acknowledge his presence.
“Ma’am. I was wondering if you could tell me if there is any news about my friend, Bill Denbrough?” Mike says politely when she has met his eyes with her own.
“Sweetheart, I’m sorry, but I am not supposed to give out patient information to people who are not family.” She says softly, her voice sweet like bubblegum, even when delivering the poor news. Mike’s eyes begin to water, he can’t help it, and her eyes grow large and she gasps at the sight of the boy in front of her.
“P..please. He’s my best friend. And we found him. Can’t you tell me anything?” He stumbles out through tears. The young nurse places her hand over her heart.
“You wait right here, I will see what I can find out. This will be our little secret, Hun.” Mike nods and smiles at her, and waits patiently at the counter until she comes back a few moments later. She waves her hand to summon Mike over, he quickly rushes to her. “Okay, so your friend is in stable condition. He lost a lot of blood, but you guys got to him in time.” Mike lets out a sigh of relief. Bill is alive. They got to him in time. She frowns a little at him, “There’s a bit of unfortunate news though, his parents have decided to admit him to the psych ward. They don’t want to deal with his problems.”
“Can we see him?” Mike is thrown off. He knew that Bill’s home situation wasn’t the best, his parents were absent a lot, they neglected him, plain and simple. But this was on a whole different level. Bill had tried to kill himself, he was crying out for help, signalling that he was in trouble, and they didn’t want to deal with it?
“Aw. He will be under observation for the first seventy two hours, no visitors or outside contact. It’s mandatory, but if you call me after that, I will see if I can get you in for visitation. You and your other friends.” She smiles at Mike, trying to convince him that it’ll be alright.
“Thank you for all your help…?” Mike says, trying to see her nametag, and spotting it quickly. “Nurse Miller.”
“It’s Jessie” She smiles at him. “Here’s my number, give me a call in a few days.” Mike smiles at Jessie, he wasn’t used to the people of Derry being helpful.
“Thank you for everything, Jessie. I’m Mike. I’ll talk to you in a few days.” Mike heads back to an eager Bev and Ben to let them in on the news. He had no idea how they were going to make it seventy two hours before checking in on their friend.
Bill wakes up in a cold, white, sterile room. His arms are wrapped in thick bandages and they are being restrained to the bed by some kind of cuffs. His throat hurts, and it takes him a minute for his brain to remember what happened.
He tried to kill himself. Tried to be with Georgie, and he had failed. Bill feels the deep throbbing in his arms, and the pain that’s permanently taken up residence in his heart. He closes his eyes and feels his tears building up once again. His monitors begin beeping, and a nurse rushes into the room to check on him.
“Mr. Denbrough?” The nurse says softly as she approaches, and Bill opens his eyes to look at her. “Hi sweetie, I’m Nurse Jensen and I’m here to watch over you. Do you remember what happened?” Bill nodded slowly in response. “Okay, honey. Well after your friends brought you in the doctors managed to stitch you up as good as new and get your heart pumping again…”
“M-my f-friends?” Bill stutters out. What did she know about his friends? What did they know about him? He needed to talk to them.
“Yes. Your friends are the ones who found you and got help. Pretty little redhead and two other boys. They got you right in time.” She smiled, but Bill wasn’t comforted by it. “Your parents have decided that it is best for you to stay here at the hospital. In our Mental Wellness Inpatient Program, until you have things sorted out.”
Bill’s heart broke in his chest at those words. He wasn’t surprised. His parents didn’t care about him, they probably would have been relieved if he had actually died.Now they were sticking him in this damn hospital as his prison, instead of actually admitting that their son needed them. Even knowing what his parents were like, couldn’t stop the pain he felt knowing that even after this, they didn’t care.
Bill doesn’t hear anything else that the nurse says, he’s numb.
The world of the psych ward is gray. The smell of disinfectant is constant, and Bill clutches his pillow over his head at night to drown out the screams from night terrors of other patients. At some point in time he paid attention enough to the nurses and doctors to know that he was still in a seventy two hour observation period. That he could have no contact with anyone, including other patients. He was on suicide watch.
His tiny room has no windows. He can’t see anything, but the four walls. One of the nurses brings him some paper and a pen to entertain himself, along with some beat up paperback novels. He knows that anything he writes on the paper will be used against him, psychoanalyzed by the doctors. He has no interest in the books either. He sleeps a lot, the vivid colors in his dream world keeping him sane, keep him from losing his mind.
When the seventy two hours are up, Bill is lead from the room and down a corridor that empties into a large recreational room. The room has a tv, sofas, some tables, and a sad looking set of bookshelves with old board games and tattered books on them. There’s a nurses station in the corner, and Bill can see several obvious cameras around the room. The patients are always being watched.There are two separate wings that branch off from the rec room, one for boys and one for girls.
Bill follows the nurse to a door, the room is clean and bare. There’s absolutely no personality at all. There’s a bed, a nightstand with a plastic lamp, and a small desk with a chair. There is a window. It has no blinds or curtains, but the desk is situated under it. It’s much better than the observation room.
“So we are in mandatory solitary hours for another forty five minutes, and then the doors open so that you can go to the rec room if you want. If you need anything, all you have to do is press the red button by the door and a nurse will come down to see what you need.” The nurse explains, Bill nods and sits down on the edge of the bed. It’s hard, no comfort to it, but he’s not surprised.
When the nurse closes the door, he can hear the audible click that the bolt makes when it locks him in, like he’s in prison. He looks around the room, and sighs. This place is worse than even his own house. He fiddles with his bandages too, the scabs on his cuts itching, and the stitches feeling too tight. After what feels like an eternity, he hears the door unlock and the noise of other patients moving around. There’s some laughter and chatting, which surprises Bill. Who could be fucking happy in this place?
Bill decides to venture out of his room, see who else is out there. Maybe if he plays nice, they’ll let him have phone privileges and he can call Bev. He wants to apologize, he feels bad that she’s the one who had to find him. It must have been awful. He walks slowly down the hallway, until he reaches the rec room. There are different clusters of kids scattered around, some around his age and some younger. Bill wonders if they have a separate section for older patients, they must. Can’t have crazy adults interacting with kids he guesses. He’s about to give up on this whole thing, to go back to his room and go to sleep when he spots something. Or someone.
Sitting at one of the tables is a boy around his age. Golden brown curls cover his head, and he has soft brown eyes. He’s looking at a book, and trying to copy something from it into a notebook. He laughs at something another patient says in passing, but stays focused on his task. Bill swears that he’s seen him before, in a dream or something, a long time ago. He’s beautiful. He takes Bill’s breath away.
Suddenly the boy lifts his eyes and meets Bill’s, he smiles, and suddenly Bill’s world is in color and his heart is alive again.