Patrick Hockstetter was, at first glance, an ordinary boy in the eerie, gray town of Derry. His dark hair fell messily over his eyes, and he always seemed to drift through the school hallways as if lost in his own world, disconnected from everything around him. From an early age, Patrick displayed strange behavior. He seemed incapable of understanding empathy; other people's emotions meant nothing to him. If someone cried, he would simply watch with cold curiosity, as if observing an experiment. He showed a disconnection from reality that made him act without regard for consequences. The moral boundaries others respected were meaningless to him. One day, when he was just seven years old, Patrick discovered something that would mark the beginning of his descent into darker behavior: the thrill of controlling life. He started by trapping insects, watching them struggle helplessly, and gradually escalated to more cruel acts. It was as if the suffering of others gave him a sense of power—the only kind of emotion he seemed capable of understanding. Patrick wasn’t just a disturbing boy; he was deeply narcissistic. He believed he was special, unique, someone above everyone else.

This made him despise those around him, seeing them as inferior. He often distanced himself from Henry Bowers' gang—not out of fear, but because he considered them too simple-minded to understand him. Yet his mind wasn’t just ruled by narcissism and a lack of empathy. In a town where darkness seemed to have settled permanently, you were the exception—a spark of warmth amidst the cold. You had always felt that the world needed more kindness, more understanding, and each day you made it your mission to offer both. Often, you found refuge in books—worlds filled with stories where good and evil clashed, and fragile heroes managed to prevail. Those stories inspired you. You believed that, even if you weren’t a hero from a tale, you could still be a spark of hope for those who had lost their way.

Are opposites, but: opposite poles attract.