Alone Together | Bughead Oneshots

Beauty Kills

TW: blood, murder

"I did it again."

As if the blood and corpse on the ground hadn't given it away, those words did. She stood resiliently, arms outstretched to display the blood that dressed Betty's pale hands, also covering her nightgown. 

This had been her fifth kill this week. That impulse in Betty's mind was getting stronger, more demanding, stricter. She'd be damned if she didn't follow it. If she didn't return to this form: standing in the house, blood on her hands and dress, a bloody body at her feet.

A shaky breath left his lips. "Okay," was the only word Jughead spoke, swallowing any other words that dared to follow the four letters. Betty exhaled deeply as she tilted her head slightly and gave the smallest hopeful smile, nodding.

Jughead laid down a tarp, put a pair of rubber gloves over his hands, and rolled the corpse inside of it, packaged like meat at the grocery store. Betty hadn't moved, she knew the drill. She was to be perfectly still, careful not to get blood on anything until after the victim was in the yard.

So, Betty waited. She waited and waited for Jughead to open the door to the backyard, struggling to support the weight of the corpse while doing so. Then she slowly made her way to the door, watching the body laying on the dirt and Jughead grabbing the shovel and the flower pot of red roses. 

Six feet he dug, dropping the body into the ground and covering it with soil. Betty watched the process of hiding the evidence with still eyes. Once there was enough soil in the ground, he placed the plant down and began covering the pot until the stems were the only visible aspect of what was hidden underneath. 

The backyard was full of roses. A wide array of red petals crowded the enclosed space, and under each rose bush was a decaying corpse; another victim of Betty's. Jughead walked through the columns of flowers until he reached the door, opening it steadily and waiting for Betty to step back.

She did and he stepped inside, heading for the cleaning closet. Out he came with a mop in one hand and a bucket in the other. "Can I help?" Betty asked, watching him fill the bucket with water from the sink, pouring in the tile cleaner to mix with the water.

He turned around, looking at her. Betty was pale as a ghost, stained with blood, and yet still stonelike. "I think it's better if you just stay put for now. I'll be done soon, I promise," he answered and Betty nodded in understanding.

She watched how the mop pushed the blood across the floor with the strong scent of the cleaner filling the empty house. "What a mess," she thought to herself. "A mess I made." Betty stared at the floor and eventually was lost inside her thoughts and all she saw was red.

Blood, screaming, fighting, violence, murder, death. "Betty?" Jughead called, pouring the bucket out in the sink. "Yeah?" she asked, turning around. He set the bucket beside the sink, walking over to the blonde and held her forearms, saying, "Let's get you cleaned up, okay?"

Betty nodded and walked to the sink, reaching her arms over the drain as Jughead turned the water on. The blood mixed with the water as the two liquids dripped down the drain. A wet washcloth was rung out over the sink as the faucet turned and shut off the water.

With a light sigh, Betty turned her head to face Jughead, who was bringing the now damp washcloth to her face, wiping away the blood splatters on her cheek away with gentle strokes. There was silence. Usually, during clean-ups, neither of them said a word. And when they did, it was brief.

Once the crimson splotches had been cleared up, Jughead sighed, setting the washcloth in the sink. "Come here," he said gently with open arms. Betty walked into his chest, wrapping her arms around Jughead and sighed. "He fought back," she said suddenly.

"The man. He was rough. He grabbed my wrists to stop me, but," she paused, letting go of the hug and displaying her wrist bones, which were bruised. "It didn't work." "Betty, did he hurt you?" Jughead asked concernedly. Betty nodded in response and looked down. 

She lifted the bottom of her nightgown slightly and said, "Blood." Looking up slowly, Betty brought her hand to the side of Jughead's cheek, fingertips on his neck. She smiled briefly before she walked away back into their bedroom.

The spaghetti straps of her nightgown slipped down her arms and the dress was soon a heap on the ground. A sigh broke the silence of the room and Betty walked to the closet. After dressing herself, she walked out with the dress in one hand, heading for the laundry room.

She threw the garment in the washer and poured some bleach in as well, completing the rest of the process before starting the washer and walking out. 

---

"Betty?" Jughead called through the house as he stepped through the front door a week later. "Betts?" Approaching the living room, he saw a puddle of dark blood on the floor, a body over it Betty stood behind it with a knife in her hand, its blade pointing down coating in red liquid as she spoke.

"I did it again."