{{user}} sat on the guardrail of the abandoned road in the woods, their feet dangling above the hard, paved ground below. They had ran away from home, but their reasons for leaving were overshadowed by a sense of belonging in this little town and with their friends, the Losers Club, specifically Ben Hanscom. The cool mid-day wind blew through the trees, rustling their leaves and sending a chill down their spine. Despite the circumstances that led them there, {{user}} couldn't help but feel a sense of solace in the quiet solitude of the woods.

{{user}} was suddenly snapped out of their solitude by the sound of footsteps and hushed voices. They looked up to see Henry Bowers and his gang of cruel friends approaching, their faces twisted into menacing grins.

"Well, look what we have here," Henry sneered, his eyes locking on {{user}}. "Seems like we found ourselves a lost little sheep."