"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.
'All I want is those beautiful snow flake kisses you see in the movies'
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I do not own any of Riverdale, only my characters
**TRIGGER WARNING**
I closed my eyes feeling the cold wind creep throughout my body, I sat on the ground my back pressed against a tree the snow surrounding me. The whisper-like running of Sweetwater river echoing throughout the woods, I let out a shaky breath my eyes still closed. A small tear escaped through my lashes dripping onto my cheeks, I pulled my knees to my chest huddling for more warmth. The scarf that was wrapped around my neck tickled at my hair, my large jacket acting as a cocoon around me. My fingerless gloves reached up and wiping the stray tear away. I opened my eyes peering up at the moonless sky, the stars hidden behind clouds. My hands fell beside me, fingering at the snow feeling the cold substance crumbling underneath my fingers. It still ran fresh in my mind, the events of merely an hour ago. The voices whispering about me, all those eyes peering at me trying to find a reaction that wasn't my already broken structure. My phone kept going off, messages from my friends I presumed. I turned it off after the first few calls from Marcus. Tonight had been a disaster and a mistake, everyone finally knew my secret, they knew what I did. I tried to kill myself, there's no point in denying it now. Then I was locked away in Riverdale's psych-ward, then I was sent to the sisters. Neither helped me. Merely suppressed how I was, told me that there was nothing to be ashamed of. Because being depressed isn't something people like to own up to, even if their mental health is the reason for it.
I know what I am, I know why I'm like this. I know why I have a short fuse, why the tiniest thing can set me off, why the slimiest thing can make me cry bullets. Why I attempted suicide. I'm bipolar, and I have been for a long time, I'm just like Marcus and my mom. Unstable, angry, sad.....broken. I know that I'm broken, I'm the definition of damaged goods. The theory of chaotic perfection some might say. I hated being called perfect because I always knew it wasn't true, I'm not the person everyone thinks I am, and now that the truth is out they're going to see me in a different way. Chuck peeled back the skin that hides the truth and paraded it around like it was a prize, he took my weakness and used it against me. With what he said he may as well grab my wrists yank down my sleeves and show my scars off to everyone. I was humiliated, how am I supposed to face everyone now. No doubt everyone will be asking questions.
Why'd you do it Anna?
Are you alright?
I had a friend that did that to.
Can I see the scars?
No I'm not alright, and no you cannot see my scars because it's none of your business. No one cared before I did it so why would people care now, it's been three months since I did it and I'm fine. I don't need their looks of pity, or their sympathetic words. I'm fine.
