Matches ♕ Bughead

♕ | Chapter Twenty-Eight

chapter twenty-eight: the devil

♕betty♕

MY MIND   feels as if it's floating, just drifting through the dark abyss of nothing through a deserted ocean, no land in sight from where I stand. I feel as if my head has emerged underwater, a strong hand keeping my eyes from reaching the surface, slowly suffocating me.

It's only when I start to see the light do I realize it's just the drugs that are making me feel this way, keeping my brain sedated to a state of unconsciousness. Slowly I feel myself float closer to the surface of this imaginary ocean until finally I reach the top.

I gasp loudly, taking in a deep breath. My heart beats rapidly, the blood rushing to my head as I attempt to take in my surroundings. Everything in me seems heightened, as if my body has switched into survival mode. As I feel my heart beat in my throat, I feel slightly lighter, my mind thinking more efficiently. I can only assume this is in result to the adrenaline pumping through my veins.

It takes me a second to register where I am, the room completely black. I even find myself questioning if I even opened my eyes because all I see is nothing. It's only when I spot a sliver of light poking out through a crack of the closed door do I realize where I am.

I immediately lunge for the door, sliding my hands over the wall blindly to find a handle. Once my fingers reach the cold, metal knob, I twist it only to find it's locked. This only sets the fear deeper within my mind, my thoughts out of control.

Recollection of what happened moments before I was taken unconscious flood my mind, my chest becoming infested with a burning anger.

Cheryl Blossom drugged me.

The fact that I've been taken somewhere means that someone handled my body, dragged it into a car and drove me to another place. Hell, that means someone carried me out of Pop's diner without drawing suspicion.

How the hell does one manage that?

I know for certain that it was not Cheryl, as she doesn't have the physical strength to carry my body out of there. I wouldn't doubt her intelligence however, as she would be able to hatch up a plan of transporting me out of Pop's unnoticed. She's sneaky like that.

I shift uncomfortably on the cold ground I sit on, my hands placed freely on my lap. I'm not bound by any chains nor rope, but am instead locked inside a dark room.

The more I sit in here the more I brood in my incessant thoughts that are wired by adrenaline. If the room wasn't dark and I knew where I was, I wouldn't be freaking out internally like I am now. I have no idea how long I've been here, or who brought me here. I have all these questions, and this time I'm not able to answer them. That's a reporter's worst nightmare.