Trapped

Chapter 16

FP was sitting on his son's bed, softly brushing a hand over the freshly washed pillow case. The house was quiet. In just six days Christmas would arrive. In his hand, a small, black video tape. The memory from earlier that night still haunted him. Kurtz disappearing into thin air.
--------------------------------------------------------------
"He was released" the officer had said "All the paperwork's done"

Hours of searching were pointless. He was gone, vanished. He remembered having to drop Betty and Kevin and Charles off. He remember going up to Alice's room on the Five Season and her giving him a hug and a peck on the cheek. He remembered feeling a little better afterwards. He remembered driving home, unlocking the door and then all the calmness and composure he had managed to built before he entered the house being completely shattered by the sight in front of him.

He took his keys out to open the door. He took a deep breath before sticking them in. He had to remain strong for Jellybean. She would have questions after the way had Charles left. Questions he would have to answer. He pushed the door open.

"Hey sweetie" he said closing the door and locking it, setting the keys on a crystal bowl they had on the table on the side of the door. He never got a reply though. "Jellybean?" He tried again setting his sheriff jacket on the coat rack. The girl was sitting on the couch, the light from the television was the only thing illuminating the dark room. FP could not see what she was watching but it must've been a hell of a movie to not even notice him. He smiled a little in awe and amusement.

"Jellybean what-"

The girl turned and FP felt the words die in his mouth. The tear trucks and the redness looked so wrong in her eyes. With her head out of the way FP could see the screen and felt the air evaporate from his lungs. It took him a moment to realize what it was. His son in a dress and make up, sobbing his heart out while...cooking? He looked so terrible. He was so thin he could see his spine and the bones of his arms and legs. He was so thin FP wondered how he was even alive. His face looked like a skull, pale with black circles under his eyes, and the edges of his face sharp. His hair was clumsily cut, making him look even more messy. Black tear trucks scarred his face, the all too red lipstick was smudged. Blue and purple bruises were now covering up his otherwise pale skin that now looked yellowish and sick. There were scars, some healed, some new.

"He hurt him" he heard Jellybean whisper. It was what had set him in motion as he bolted, jumping over the couch and almost falling down to pause the tape. The girl yelped at the sudden movement. "Dad!" she cried.

FP shuffled away from the television and up on the couch gathering the girl in his arms and pressing her face to his shoulder, hoping to secure her from the horrific image. He had no idea what exactly she had seen but he was absolutely positive it wasn't pleasant. Putting her to bed was difficult that night. Impossible actually. Even when she would fall asleep nightmares would come to terrorize her and wake her up again almost immediately. FP resulted in asking her to just lay down with her eyes closed, just so she could rest a little. The girl agreed.

It was 4 in the morning when she managed to fall into a peaceful slumber. FP had not left her side until then. Only when he was sure she was asleep, only then did he leave. He re-winded the tape to the beginning. He hugged himself for a moment. Maybe he shouldn't do this tonight. Maybe he shouldn't do this alone. He had talked to Jughead, he knew he was alive, he didn't have to watch the tape but...some part of him felt the need to see it, see him. Just...just to know what happened. What Kurtz did. Just so Jughead wouldn't suffer alone.

When the tape began FP took notice of the date on the corner: 10/31/19. Halloween. That was just a couple of monts ago. Jughead was standing in...a bedroom? He recognized it from the first tape. The embarrassment and shame and humiliation were all to obvious on his face, taking form on his tears.