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TW: mentions of a miscarriage, mention of blood

I guess by now I'd started to recover a bit more. I finally got out of bed and managed to leave my room. My appetite was hard to describe; it felt like I only ate because I knew it'd been a while since I last had food, not because I was hungry. 

Every morning before now, my mom would come in and try to convince me to eat, but I always turned her away gently, always telling her that I wasn't ready to leave my bed, which I wasn't. I still felt so empty and alone, and I wasn't too sure breakfast would fix anything.

But nevertheless, I walked with Jughead down the stairs and into the kitchen. My mom had already made a pretty big spread and put everything on the table. "Just take what you want; don't feel overwhelmed with everything. 

I honestly felt like I might have to throw up as I looked at all the food. I picked a few pieces of fruit to put on my plate, considering I probably should get something in me after three days of being in bed with no food.

I tried to keep quiet while the other two ate and talked briefly because I just wasn't ready for all of this. It felt like I almost wasn't ready to "rejoin society"; like I forgot how to be a person or at least function like one. 

I just wanted to go back to bed and back to sleep, but I knew that at least for now I had to sit and eat and try to regain some kind of normalcy. I knew it wasn't gonna happen overnight or after one breakfast, but I really wanted to start going back to school and talking to people.

"Betty?" My mom asked, snapping me out of my trance. "Uh, yeah?" I replied, looking up from my lap, where I guess I'd been staring. "What's on your mind?" she asked gently. "Um, just how I...how I wanna get back to normal," I answered before slightly shaking my head and taking a bite of watermelon.

I hated the way that sounded as I said it. I don't want to forget about Tate or anything even remotely close to that. I just want to be able to remember my baby and get out of bed. I knew even then that there wouldn't be a day going by that I didn't think of my little baby boy and miss him.

And I still wished that I could hold him in that little white nursery and sing "Sunshine" to him everyday, but I guess that point in my life is where I started to come to the acceptance stage in my grief. 

I mean, Jughead and I are still young, we have all the time in the world for a family. But then again, I was terrified of getting pregnant again just to have another miscarriage. I also feared that having a kid would somehow replace Tate.

It broke my heart everytime I looked at Jughead and saw his tear-stained face or heard him crying when he thought I was asleep. He's always been good at putting on a brave face for a crowd because of his past and family, but it killed me that he felt the need to do that.

"Betty, are you sure you're okay?" Jughead said in a quiet voice, his hand on the small of my back as I took another forkful of fruit. "No, I'm not okay, Jug, but I'm trying," I replied, tears coming to my eyes as I said that. "I know, baby. I know you're trying. And I'm so proud of you."

Suddenly everything came back. All the flashes of blood and tears and agony came rushing through my head. The room started spinning as I stood up and headed for the stairs. "Elizabeth?" My mom called after me. 

"I'm just...I'm gonna lay down for a bit," I said, using the stair rail to brace myself as I walked up the steps to my room, practically throwing myself onto my bed, a hand on my forehead trying to get me to calm down. 

I heard Jughead walk into the room, saying, "Betts, what happened, are you okay?" I sniffled into my pillow and turned over to face him, crying, "I just miss him so much. I miss my baby."

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