Bowers is completely batshit. That's why he's in Juniper now.
(The crazy son of a bitch killed Mike's poor dog, for Christ's sake. Among several other things that Eddie preferred to not think about if it could be helped.
Eddie's jaw works back and forth and he shrugs a little bit, feeling impossibly awkward.)
I don't...(He didn't understand it all that well himself. He winds up sitting down back next to Richie.)
It's hard to understand. (That's all he can really say. To this day, he still struggled with it. Most of the time, he felt grateful to be away from her, like he had won somehow. Other times though, he felt horrible for leaving his mother all alone. His father had left her on her own too. And she technically had only ever wanted to the best for Eddie. Had wanted him to have a good life, a healthy life, and sure she was overbearing, but no one could say that she didn't love her son.
Eddie was too young to understand how there was such a thing as bad love, loving too much, loving in the wrong way. "Love" was a good word, and mothers loved their children in ways children didn't always understand. How could something so positive have such a negative outcome?
And he loved his mom, was the thing, he loved her a whole lot. Just like he was frightened of her a whole lot. He wants to tell Richie all of this, tell him about how he understood why, but truthfully? He doesn't understand why. Because despite getting that she cared, he also felt like he'd been robbed of so much. He'd spent so many days laying in hospital beds, taking medicine that he never needed- and God, he worried nonstop about getting sick still. And for what?
His mindmother wails in his head, Eddie! You can't leave your mother. You don't know how sick the world is. You'll never make it!)
I don't think she wanted me to leave. And maybe, if she could keep me sick, and fragile, then I'd always think that leaving was dangerous.
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(The crazy son of a bitch killed Mike's poor dog, for Christ's sake. Among several other things that Eddie preferred to not think about if it could be helped.
Eddie's jaw works back and forth and he shrugs a little bit, feeling impossibly awkward.)
I don't...(He didn't understand it all that well himself. He winds up sitting down back next to Richie.)
It's hard to understand. (That's all he can really say. To this day, he still struggled with it. Most of the time, he felt grateful to be away from her, like he had won somehow. Other times though, he felt horrible for leaving his mother all alone. His father had left her on her own too. And she technically had only ever wanted to the best for Eddie. Had wanted him to have a good life, a healthy life, and sure she was overbearing, but no one could say that she didn't love her son.
Eddie was too young to understand how there was such a thing as bad love, loving too much, loving in the wrong way. "Love" was a good word, and mothers loved their children in ways children didn't always understand. How could something so positive have such a negative outcome?
And he loved his mom, was the thing, he loved her a whole lot. Just like he was frightened of her a whole lot. He wants to tell Richie all of this, tell him about how he understood why, but truthfully? He doesn't understand why. Because despite getting that she cared, he also felt like he'd been robbed of so much. He'd spent so many days laying in hospital beds, taking medicine that he never needed- and God, he worried nonstop about getting sick still. And for what?
His mindmother wails in his head, Eddie! You can't leave your mother. You don't know how sick the world is. You'll never make it!)
I don't think she wanted me to leave. And maybe, if she could keep me sick, and fragile, then I'd always think that leaving was dangerous.
(Which...he still kind of did.)