sweet tooth s.p

03

                        

              Asher was getting really fed up with Archie and Jughead, even the girls, who had been almost non stop following her around.

Archie had told them about her "weird" interest in the "cruel" Southside Serpent. She only saw them being the cruel ones.

They say they're worried by her sudden, bold change in demeanor but it made her feel strong. She wasn't so scared anymore. Asher was so sick of feeling weak, of being scared of everything. She was sick of feeling like her voice was pointless, that nobody wanted to listen to her.

"And you're sure you want to come tonight?" Betty asked for what felt like the ninth time in the bland student lounge. Asher looked at her with a strong annoyed expression on her face.

"Betty, I'm done being too scared to talk. I wasted a year of my life, I'm ready to have fun. To enjoy my high school experience." She finished her sentence and threw her head against the chair as she stared up to the ceiling.

That is until Reggie stood in her gaze, bent over to meet her eyes. "I'm sorry- did you just say you'd be coming to my party? And you're ready to enjoy some time with the Reg Dog?"

I laughed as I swung my head back to normal, "I'm going to have fun in general, with my friends. Who you aren't one of Mantle." He pouted but shrugged away after shooting her a wink.

"You girls gonna come over and get ready? Or am I on my lonesome?"

—

Once the bell rang I went to head to chemistry but I quickly noticed someone in the hall, "You! How dare you show your face here after what you did!"

Cheryl quickly stomped up to me, "I swear to the God's that blessed me I am going to make you rue the day you were born, Asher Rye!"

I only smiled at her for a moment, "I'm not scared of you, Cheryl. You try anything with me and I promise you won't have to worry about rueing anyone- ever again." Her brows furrowed at my unclear threat.

Either way she was silent as I passed her and headed to my last class of the day in this hell hole.

By the time school ended I had a stack of assignments and reading to do for the days I missed, not like I minded having something to do in my free time.

When I entered my home I was greeted by deafening silence, another reason why she stopped talking. Nobody ever heard her anyways.

I took two stairs at a time to get to my bedroom as I was really ready to start picking apart this stack of homework.

After an hour and a half of Calculus homework I wanted to die, it's like my brain had just stopped understanding numbers. So I decided I might as well start my writing assignment for my writing class, Jug and I shared a love for it. I took my work on more of a fictional level, most of my stories or expressions hold deep meaning- they hold painful secrets.

I wrote about myself- but a self no one knew. I write stories of a silenced daughter, a absent mother, an emotionally absent father and- and as difficult as it is to write about, a rape survivor. I kept a huge folder of my graded work, I felt as if my teacher Mrs. Beckner was the only one who really knew my truths.

The topic she gave me for the week was something I never wrote about.

                               Love. What does it mean to you? To your characters?

I hated the topic. Love is imaginable, it's a fake unfathomable thing that rips people apart. It crushes souls and ruins lives.

I started full of hate.

         Love? Love means nothing to me except for a feeling of pity. There is nothing love will fix as it is just something people use as an excuse to not be alone. They can't handle their own self, many would rather take care of others. Humans beg for consistency. The idea of love can give them this life, a life with a husband or wife to love them in "sickness or in health"

I stopped for a moment as I stared at my spilled sentences, when had I become so angry? I glanced at the time to see that it was only 5:34 pm. I was incredibly bored, I didn't want to write about this anymore.

I zoned out looking around my bedroom, that is until my eyes caught a sketch I had done. And suddenly I wanted to draw, something I hadn't let myself do. I couldn't help but draw his eyes the month after my attack.

When I allowed my legs to take me to my dresser I gave in, pulling out my charcoal and papers. Grabbing a box of tissues back to my bed.

I didn't really know what I wanted to draw, when the hair was done I assumed my hands missed Jughead.

Hours passed of me zoned into my art, I hadn't noticed the first two phone calls but quickly heard Betty's ringtone.

I jumped up to answer the call, "Hey, what's up?"

There was loud noise, "Hey? Are you coming?"

I was confused, "What do you mean it's only-" My voice broke as I looked at my clock.