How to be the Perfect Outcast || Jughead Jones / Riverdale

1 || "i sure am popular."

-eden's pov-

It wasn't long until my bare feet hit the soft yet shockingly cold snow that cascades down the hill called Thorn Hill. It had taken me nearly six hours to run this far, and I have just taken the time to start walking.

My tears haven't seized, only grown heavier every time I think about it. I angrily wipe at my face, my vision blurring and causing me to fall, tripping over the ground and tumbling down the snow covered hill.

I groan as my body hits a three, making it stop abruptly. I close my eyes tight, taking a moment to try and control the pain erupting all over my body. When I am done, I gather myself and stand, gasping when I realize my wounds were worse than I thought.

I lift my left arm and pull the torn, bloody, dirt-covered jacket away from my side, examining the long gash that reaches from my hip bone and curves around my side to meet the bottom of my shoulder blade.

I groan again, standing to my feet. I shake off the unpleasantness and continue to limp through the woods. I don't know how long it is when I reach an old, beaten up drive-in theater that looks closed down. I gasp, feeling myself get sort of dizzy.

I hurriedly limp toward the abandoned building, hoping someone is passing by that can help. Anyone. I fall to my knees, groaning, and clutching my stomach, which only makes it hurt worse. My vision goes out for a minute, and when it comes back, I see a blurry figure wearing a tan coat and a flannel.

They yell something at me, eyebrows furrowed, but my ears are ringing. They drop to my side and help me stand, which doesn't do much because I fall back down immediately afterwards. The person leans back down, not giving up. They slither their arms under my knees and around my back, hoisting me up into their arms.

I let out a cry, the reaction from the mysterious male pressing his hand onto my gash unknowingly. They mutter something, before they start to run. My head falls onto their shoulder, inhaling the smell of old books and coffee.

My hands grip onto their shoulders, eyes screwed shut as my body tenses up, trying to ignore the pain that intensifies with every step this man takes. I remind myself to find him and thank him when I get better, if not for him, I would probably be dead.

My vision starts to blur up, and black spots invade it. I try and blink them away, momentarily clearing it up. I gasp when a sudden bright light is beamed down on me. There is more yelling, and rustling around.

I am laid down on an uncomfortable bed thing, and I look to my right, seeing the boy who carried me running beside the stretcher. My mouth is parted, dirt is caked across my face, and my hair is an absolute birds nest.

He still stares at me with wide eyes, caressing the side of my face, like I am the prettiest sunflower in a field of wildflowers. I try and gulp, but my throat is too dry. A doctor starts to poke at me, while another yells at the boy who brought me here.

I use all my strength to speak up, "H-hey! Leave him... alone... Leave him a-alone!"

The nurse stops to stare at me, before pursing her lips and guiding him out of the room we are in, and into the hallway. I watch as she closes the door, but he moves to the side to look through the open blinds, staring at me.

My head is pushed to the side, and I wiggle free to stare at the man again, who has a little smile on his face, running his hands through his hair. I blink to keep my vision clear, but the darkness overpowers me, and I am out like a light.