Helpline ((Jughead Jones)) 2

28

Jughead POV 

I sat up in my seat, jolting out of the terrible nightmare, only to be plunged into one even worse. Incessant beeping, monotonous, even, was the only thing that was assuring me she was alive.
"Are you alright Jug?" Archie asked. He was sat across the room with Cheryl and his dad, my dad having gone out to get food. It was 8:36 now. I had slept for 23 minutes. She had been out of surgery and seemingly stable for 1 hour 19 minutes. I had been counting.

That question didn't even need an answer. He could see I wasn't. My eyes were stained with red tracks from the tears. My voice was as sore as my right leg that hadn't stopped bouncing up and down since we entered the hospital. It had been just over 12 hours since it all happened.

The door opened, and a nurse walked in. Last night it had been a young girl, clearly new, and she had struggled to answer any of my questions, but now, it was a middle aged woman, who smiled at us sympathetically when she entered.
"Are you the relatives of Miss Blossom?" She questioned politely. Her voice was calm, clearly well practised at her job.

Fred stood, introducing us all. Her dad. Her brother and sister. Her boyfriend. I chose not to look at the nurse, instead looking at girl, my angel, lying on the bed. There were over 10 different wires sticking out of her and more bandages than skin on show. It should have been me. That was the only thing I could think. She was lying on the bed, I went looking for her last night and gave up. Too many 'ifs' were circling in my mind.

"Have you been told the extent of her injuries yet?" I nearly scoffed at that. We knew more about Midge Klumps condition than we did Cynthia's. She was found backstage by Sheriff Keller when he went to find any clues about the attack. She was found dead. It could have been Cynthia.
"No, we haven't." Cheryl answered, standing up with Archie, going over to Fred's side while I stayed in the chair next to her bed, too scared to touch her in case I caused her more pain.

"Well, she has two major wounds through both hands from the two knives that held her weight above the ground. Then both her legs and her right ankle are severely broken in multiple places, most likely to incapacitate her before he did anything else to make it easier for him. The worst injuries are in her back. When paramedics got her down, the body was pinned to the backdrop by three large knives that held her in place. One has fractured her spine in the lower part, which we are certain will effect her legs. The doctor does think she'll be able to walk, but it'll be hard. She'll go through months of physiotherapy in order to..."

I put my head on the bed next to her body. My hand gently rested on her arm, and I let my tears escape my eyes and fall onto the bed. Never, had I cried so much. It felt like I was lost in the middle of the ocean on one small wooden row boat in the middle of a never ending blackness. I could feel the sway of the waves, and the cold feeling as water splashed onto me. I needed her. I needed her, the lighthouse to my dark world, to save me from being lost. I needed her to be alright.

Lifting my head, I took off my beanie, wiping my face with my other hand, not realising it was shaking just a little. It was just slightly worse than losing her, because there was nothing that i'd be able to do to take her pain away. She'd suffer with emotional and physical scars for the rest of her life.

A hand rested on my shoulder. When I turned to face him, it was my dad. Before I could stop him or say I was fine or that everything would be ok, he wrapped his arms around me tightly. I broke, something inside me, like a string holding the rest of me together, just snapped. My legs gave way and I broke down in loud, hard sobs, collapsing on the floor, clutching my dad, as if he would have the answers. My cries matched Cheryl's as she cried into Archie. Betty and Veronica and Kevin and who knows who else were sat outside, and when I heard the door close, I looked up. It was only me and him in here now. The others must have gone to give the news.

"Jughead, look at me." I did. FP had given some alright advice previously, as well as many scolding lectures as a child. I had seen him at his worst, and now he was seeing me at mine. Just looking at him without crying was taking away all of my energy. Just 24 hours ago I had held her in my arms as we slept, and I had watched her slowly grow heavier on my chest as sleep consumed her. Just over 12 hours ago I had kissed her for the last time before her pain-free and healthy life was stripped from her and she was forced into this state.

"When she wakes up, and she will, she'll need you. She'll need you more than anyone. For every physio session where she thinks it's pointless to carry on, for every moment of pain she feels, for each time something reminds her of what that monster did to her, you will give her a reason to carry on, you'll show her that she is still beautiful, and a badass Serpent. Every time she cries, you'll be her rock. Because that's what Jones men do, Jughead. That's what you do. She comes first. Now wipe away those tears because she needs you." Then FP got up and left. It was like he knew what I would do, like he knew that I understood what he was saying and knew that I wasn't about to cry anymore. So, I got up off the floor once the door was closed, and I moved to the left side of her bed, taking a seat.

This time when I looked at her, I didn't see a wounded girl, I saw an angel that had walked through hell and was willing to keep on fighting. I saw my Lady Serpent who would become my Queen. I saw my Cynthia, and my Cynthia who needed me more than she ever had before. So, I took her hand in mine, rubbing my thumb over the back of her wrist, and I waited for her to wake up, so I could start healing her myself.