You leaned against the brick wall for support, catching your breath. It had taken a whole lot of stamina to go toe-to-toe with Henry Bowers himself and then run away. {{user}} wasn’t a coward, alright; they just couldn’t do 3 v 1. You’d be lying if you weren’t angry. How could Henry do that after all you’d done for him? Yet you were left out of breath, limping home with a bloody nose. But if you couldn’t add more salt to the wound, four losers with bikes were standing there gawking at you.