A singel look:Bughead

I feel numb

Betty's POV: 

Everything was supposed to be one day, eight hours. But now I have to live through four detention more. I swear I will kill Blossom if she even talks more with me. She thinks she is so much better because she has money, a big yard and has learned to lick people in the ass. She could not even give me a good fight. She thinks she's so much better than people like me because she's one from the north side. Everyone is equal. But none of them are better than us. We are all the same junk. But all of us do not have the trouble to live on a junk yard.And I finally got Jones down on earth. He believes that only because he dresses like them and behaves like them becomes one of them. But he will not be. He just gets weak of it. Like everyone else on the north side, he becomes weak. They just think they are better than us because they have money and good homes. But everything with them is so colorful and pep. 

I walked around in my little room in my family's trailer. The room has gray walls and a single bed. My wardrobe stands against the wall at the door. Around the floor are clothes and braces. I'm looking through my wardrobe after doing something appropriate to work. I rotate in the boxes among the clothes. I pick up a black tank top and pull it over my black bra. At the door, in a high I found a black skirt that I'm wearing. I look at myself in the whole figur mirror. I look good. My skirt is short and sits tight, it points out and highlights my curves and killer legs. The top is short and knows the biggest part of my breasts. It only covers my bra. I drag and tear in the ring of the top to make sure it is seated correctly. I am well aware that my breasts are bigger one of them fastened girls. But it feels like I'm never enough. That's how our parents make me feel.
"Elizabeth pulls her whore ass out here" sluts my dad from the kitchen. He's full I hear. But that's what he does with the days he drinks. And he drinks a lot.

I'm going out of my room I saw my mom sitting on the couch with a bottle of wine beside her. 

I go out into the little kitchen Dad is sitting at the little table. The table is full of empty bottles of alcohol. He stares at me. In his hand he has a vodka bottle.
"Do not you look a bit fat today?" he fails to mock.
"I ... I do not know," I answer nervously. he is drunk and then nothing can end well. He threw the bottle he had in his hand. It hits the wall behind me.
"So clear you see it. You've seen in the mirror or how? You look bold." How will we get money if you look fat. Who wants to throw money into a fat whore? " He gets up and walks towards me. I baked baked but baked into the wall. He grabbed my wrist and took me away. He grabs the other hand around my neck and enters the bathroom. He forces me down my knees. He grabs me by the hair so my head is over the toilet. I feel how his fingers strap my lips. He dropped his fingers in my throat until everything in my stomach was gone. He throws me in the floor and leaves from there. He leaves me crying on the floor as always. 

I clean up myself and go to The White Wyrm where I work. I hate my life. I hate my job. What sixty year old girl wants to strip a bar for money. Here is the answer: None.
Every time I get up on the stage and have to touch my body with the music, I feel numb. I'm getting numb. I can not feel anything. But sometimes it feels liberating.
But I get well paid for it and it makes the family happy.