"Just tell me what happened that night!!"
Some secrets can bring people together, some can tear them apart.
But some secrets destroy people.
And Annabelle Underwood is about to be transformed by hers.
'The only satisfaction that I feel is when I'm not pretending anymore'
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I don't own any of Riverdale, only my characters.
MY CHEST FELT TIGHT FROM RUNNING. I sprinted into my house, yelling for my mother before I heard the soft, yet raspy response from the bathroom upstairs. She was crying hysterically, her head in her hands and lying on the floor. My eyes softened as I approached. "Mom, are you okay?" I asked.
She slowly pulled her hands from her face, revealing a purpling bruise formed around her neck, moulded in the shape of hands.
Anger coursed like battery acid in my veins, my eyes narrowing into dark slits upon looking at his handy work. My father, it was his signature.
I felt my throat become clear of salvia, and pure air burnt up the flesh. "I'm going to kill him" I growled standing to my feet, only for my mother to lunge at me, gripping my hands tightly like she was begging. "No don't Anna, it'll only make things worse" mom sobbed, pulling me back down to floor.
My eyebrows furrowed as she gripped my hands, begging me not to do anything. "No mom, he can't keep doing this to you. He doesn't get the right to do it, maybe we should get Mar-"
"-Don't!" mom snapped cutting me off, "don't say his name, don't even think about bringing him back here. Not while your father is living under this roof"
"Mom" I sighed, as her hands gripped me tighter.
"Anna, I'm fine" she whispered wiping her tears and standing up, she turned to me a small smile on her lips. "How was your date?" She asked her whole attitude changing within seconds.
"It was okay" I said quietly, not wanting to talk about my 'date' if that is what you'd call it, but the abuse caused by my father.
"Just okay?" Mom questioned, "mom are you still taking your medication?" I asked.
Her smile turned into a scowl as she looked at me, "why would you bring that up?" she snarled.
"Mom, are you still taking them?" I said more sternly, "they make me bloated, so no I'm not" I rolled my eyes at her.
"You're worried about your appearance more than your mental health" I snapped, "don't snap at me Annabelle, you shouldn't worry about me" she said, her voice turning softer. Tears began pooling once more and she latched onto me, sobbing into my jacket. I sighed and patted her head softly, kissing the top of her hair an holding her tightly as I blinked tears away.
This was happening too often, dad would hit mom, mom would cry then pretend everything's alright when it sure as shit isn't. She'll smile and act the perfect part of the loving wife and mother until it'll eventually break her. It'll snap at her kindness and softness, before rendering them harsh and cold until there's nothing left. This was the life she condemning herself to, forcing herself to live this way, and I don't know if she realises what's its going to her.
