Shedding Our Skin {Jughead Jones}{Bughead}

Chapter Eighteen

I held Donny inches away from the concrete. I felt myself screaming, but it somehow meant nothing.

As his blood soaked into the ground, I felt like a lonely god. Floating in infinite nothingness, a tsunami of existence just out of reach, but not immune to the damage that were my fingerprints.

Someone dragged me off of him, and two large men gently put him in his truck.

I was running. I jumped into his truck and took off.

I wouldn't lose him, too.

There was a clinic on the south side, but they aren't exactly known for saving victims of a shooting.

I knew there was a possibility this would cause trouble, but it would be worth it to save Donny.

Sling and Joaquin carried the man into the hospital, shouting for help. The black we were all wearing and the blood dripping on the floor had a sickening contrast to the white decor of the hospital.

In no time, a gurney was being rolled out to take him into surgery. They took us to a waiting room and told us that he would be taken into surgery immediately.

We had no idea how long the wait would be, so we sat down.

No one spoke a word, leaving only a somehow sentient silence to fill the air.

Fifteen minutes turned into thirty, and thirty turned into forty-five and I could no longer take the atmosphere.

Without a word, I got up and walked out of the room.

I didn't want to leave in case we got any news, so I decided to walk the hospital.

Floor after floor I walked in a daze, trying to piece together what my life had become since the last time I was here.

After walking sometime, I found myself in a place I recognized: the waiting room in the maternity ward.

I sat down and looked at the door.

In a sense, I expected Betty or Alice to walk into the door.

To wake me up, or shake me out of some daydream, and take me home. I'd help out with the babies, and begin to build a life with Betty.

But that's gone.

It's over, isn't it?

Instead I left it behind, and tried to be some hero.

I took out my phone and dialed Betty's number.

My finger hovered over the Call button as I thought about the things that had happened.

I turned my phone off, deciding to handle the ordeal with Pug before I tried to contact Betty.

A familiar ache set into my body. I still missed her as if I had left yesterday. Instead it had been months.

Junior year was ending, and in a short time I'd be a senior.

CPS contacted me, saying that if I didn't find a place to live for the next few years, they'd be forced to put me in the foster system.

They assured me that they had found a very nice family looking to take in someone my age a few towns over.

I kept stalling, saying I was in the process of getting in touch with some distant family.

The truth was, I had no one left.

Mom didn't want me with her, because she was afraid Jellybean would take after me in some way. I wasn't even sure my dad had any family left at all.

I couldn't ask the Coopers to take me in, because I hadn't seen or talked to them in so long.

I was just grasping at excuses.

Honestly, I wasn't sure I would survive long enough to be placed in foster care.

My phone rang, causing me to jump and pulling me out of my thoughts. It was Joaquin.

"Hey Jug, the doctor's here."

"Thanks I'll be right down."

I ran down the stairs and down to the waiting room.

"Hey Jug, they have some news about your dad." Joaquin said, putting a hand on my shoulder.

They told them Donny was my dad?

"What's going on?" I asked the doctor.

"Well, Donny's going to be okay. He'll have to stay here for a few days, but we expect a full recovery."

"Thank you, that's good to hear." I told him.

He smiled and left.

I turned toward the waiting room full of Serpents.

"Will someone stay here with him while I go home and take a shower?" I asked.

"We'll be here, Jug." One of them said.

"Thank you." I replied.

I hopped in Donny's truck and drove to the trailer.

I stood still and let the cold water cover me. I looked down at the ground and watched blood pour into the drain, none of it mine.

I was so relieved Donny was okay. He didn't deserve to be in this pain, especially at the hands of scum like Pug.

I dried off and put on a grey shirt with a faded "S" on it, put my black jeans on, attached the suspenders, and sat down.

For some time, I breathed in and out as steadily as I could. No matter how much I cleaned, the trailer still smelled like smoke and alcohol. No matter how much I cleaned, my father wouldn't leave.

Maybe I'm no better than him.

I stood up, numb, and walked to the one cabinet I would never touch.

-Third Person Omniscient POV-

Jughead blew the dust off of and old bottle of Jack.

He started by taking a few shots, then began to drink straight out of the bottle.

It burned his throat and stomach, but he soon become too relaxed, then drunk, to care.

He staggered out of his trailer, bottle in hand, and threw up a few steps away from the door.

Jughead hopped in Donny's truck and began to drive. Time went on, and he grew more and more drunk. The past months came rushing back to him.

When he once again heard the gunshot that came from Pug's gun, his memories froze. Over and over again, he saw the bullet enter Donny's flesh, and he grew angry.

In all his life, and through everything he had experienced, he had never been this angry. In his drunken state, his anger grew and boiled in him.

He drove to the hospital where Donny was, parked in a place he wouldn't remember, and ran to the waiting room where the Serpents were.

He saw the man before he was through the door, standing there like he had any business being anywhere near the Serpents.

Everyone had left except a handful, who sat with clenched hands and red faces.

When Jughead Jones threw open the door, he turned around.

"Jughead!" Pug said, "Hey man, you don't look so good..."

Jughead lunged at him, and locked his hands around the older man's neck.

Pug's face turned red as he sputtered and struggled against the younger man's hands.

Jughead slurred out profanities and insults.

"My father!" He repeated, in a drunken rage.

Various pairs of arms wrapped around his stomach and chest, pulling him away from his victim.

When he was finally pried loose from Pug's neck, the man held his throat and struggled to breath again.

Jughead took another sip of the whiskey bottle that he had sat on a table nearby, and then immediately passed out.