"I see you walk with another, I wish it could be me.. I long to hold you and kiss you, but I know it can never be~"
A catchy song about young teenage girls falling in love with boys too old for comfort woke you from your not-so peaceful slumber. You groaned, reaching for your phone on your bedside table to shut the alarm off. Faint light shone through the window curtains, casting a pastel F/C light throughout your small room. It was around 6 a.m. and school started in an hour and a half. A sigh escaped your lips as you stretched your arms and twisted your upper body, cracks and pops from your spine interrupted the eerie silence that swamped your tiny apartment. Your bones ached and your head throbbed, the couple hours of sleep you'd gotten were useless, but rare. Nightmares and insomnia claimed you, taking every bit of energy from you and turning it into something you could only describe with one word: depressing. You weren't depressed, just tired of everything.
You dragged your exhausted self out from under your bed sheets and went to the bathroom to stare at your flaws, part of your every day routine. You spent around 3 minutes focusing on your eye bags and dull eyes and hallowed face before brushing your teeth and hair. You opened one of the drawers in your sink vanity contraption of sorts and searched through rummaged through all the makeup products before finding pencil and liquid eyeliner, mascara, an eye lash curler, and chap stick.
You then began to apply liquid eyeliner on your upper lash line and then you took the cap off the pencil and dragged the soft tip along your water line, going over it once more for an opaque line. And then you started curling your eyelashes, lightly pinching at the base of your eyelashes and then in the middle and repeating that for the other eye. And then came your mascara and chap stick.
Your lips had small cracks and pieces of dead skin on them and your bottom lip was split in the middle and there was a large bruise on your cheek that reached up to your forehead, but was healed enough to not draw attention. A black hoodie covered up most of the bruises anyway.
You sighed and went back to your room, looking for a pair of leggings and your shoes. And when you were done, you grabbed your backpack, keys, and your phone, but before you made it to the door, you were stopped by a drunken man in his mid-40s.
"W-where do ya think yer goin' without giving your old man a kiss-ss goodbye?" His words slurred and he grabbed a fistful of your H/L, H/C locks and pulled your face toward his.
Your lips brushed against the rough stubble that covered his jaw, you did your best to not cry and kissed his cheek softly before he pushed you out the door and onto the ground, slamming the door shut and locking it.
Your father was an alcoholic and was the reason why you were thinking about joining the Southside Serpents, he was, indeed, part of the gang.
You were moving to the Southside with your father due to the fact that your mother was moving across the country and you refused to leave your friends. Betty was and has been your best friend for as long as you can remember, Archie and Jughead are like brothers to you, and hanging out with Cheryl is unusually bearable.
Today was your first day at Southside High, and you'd no idea how you would even last a minute. You knew no one except for Jughead who was off fighting his own wars, and you hated making friends, preferring to skip past the foreplay and seasons greetings and awkwardness new-found friendships bring. But, things have changed, your father basically beat you into a new role in this game they called "Life". And with new roles comes new ways of seeing life and disordered thinking.
You sighed, making your way to the office, getting pushed around and glared at often. You had discussed what-to-do and what-not-to-do with Jughead previously, and he said that if you needed any help, he'd either be with the Serpents or in the Red and Black room.
