heartbeats ; bughead

43

elizabeth;

The darkness. That thing we're all afraid of. That looming darkness that we don't want to face. That was Riverdale. Right at that moment.

I can't say I liked it, but I did get some privacy. Riverdale was like a ghost town. Barely anyone came out of their homes, and the only thing giving life to the town was the high school itself and the people in it. I was at home, the fairy lights around me gleaming as the rain poured outside.

I was cuddled into a chunky knit blanket, watching my favorite psychological horror, The Sixth Sense. I used to be super uncomfortable with blood. That was before everything happened.

My brother in law died. My life fell apart. When Jughead murdered him. 

Had I really forgiven Jughead? I felt stupid all of a sudden. It had only been a raw month since I'd found out that Jughead had been lying to me, and I just got up and went to his house and kissed everything away. But I was still grieving myself. 

I couldn't even imagine what Polly must have been going through. I decided to get up and knock on her door. As my fingers touched the cool metal handle, I heard a shriek from inside. Again, and again.

Mom and Dad weren't home, and that's when the twins started crying. My instincts kicking in, I rushed inside to see what was wrong. "Polly?" I croaked out, my heart thumping.

She was standing over a box, like a music box. It was clearly old, wooden, with strange engravings on the front. I gently touch her shoulder, and then I pry the box out of her hands. She was trembling, eyes widened. "Hey Polly, it's--"

"Look." Polly turns her blue eyes on me, still widened with shock or grief or sadness or something else I couldn't figure out. 

"What?"

"The box." Reluctantly, I take the box back off the dresser and look inside, and I immediately dropped the box. It reeked of formaldehyde, an iron ting of blood, and I felt like puking. My heart rushed to my mouth, and I felt that I wanted to let out all my internal organs.

There were body parts in there. A finger. An eye, with flesh, still attached, and a clump of orange-red hair. Polly let out another sob, that echoed through the house, reverberating in my ears. I had such a compelling urge to figure out who'd even done this. And why. How could they even have access to the body? 

Questions kept bubbling up, but I could only think that the body was stored somewhere safe. Only Jughead would know--

Jughead. Did Jughead do this? A burst of anger bubbled inside me. Did he lie to me again? There was a sudden urge for me to storm into his house and give him the biggest confrontation of his life, when I saw a note on the bottom. 

Be careful. He's next. 

I knew what I had to do. I immediately rose up, and ran out the door. Something in my gut told me that it was Jughead. Something was happening in Riverdale, and I didn't want to be a part of it. How badly I wanted to run away from the human body parts, from my family, from this dark town where nothing seemed to go right. 

But I didn't. I had to see him. He needed help. It's that feeling when you know someone you love might be in danger, that tugging feeling pulling you towards that someone. I threw on a jacket and sneakers, and stepped out into the pouring rain.

As the cold droplets soaked through my hair, making my ponytail stick to my neck, my socks and my jacket drenched, I kept walking. The wind blasted like a screamo rock song in my face, but I thought of him.

I broke into a run, thinking of how long I'd left him alone. I should've just forgave him, should've tried to figure out a way to not plunge him into further despair. The tears mingled with the rain, until I couldn't tell which was which.