Riverdale Ships One-Shots// ON HOLD

Damaged

Trigger Warning: This one shot includes mention of rape, suicidal thoughts and self harm. If you are sensitive to these subjects, please skip this one or read it with a trusted adult/friend. I promise, nothing graphic is mentioned. Information on crisis helplines is located at the end.

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Veronica POV

It's been three weeks since he was here, three weeks of pure fear and pain. Three weeks since my body had been taken from me, since my cries of No! Stop were ignored. The worst violations come from those who you never thought would violate you.

Emotional and physical pain built up inside me until a breaking point, where I grabbed my razor.

I want to die, I don't want to deal with the pain of living anymore. It's too much, and I can't go on like this, constantly living in a state of pain and fear. It's not how I want to spend my life.

Bitch.

Slut.

Worthless.

Daddy's girl.

Whore.

Ungrateful.

Too goddamn sensitive.

Weak.

These words keep going through my head as I grab the razor and move it even closer to my wrist, only an inch away. Am I really doing this? Am I really considering ending it all?

Just as the razor is about to touch my wrist, my phone rings. Shit, I think, dropping the weapon onto the sink and running to the kitchen, where my phone, face down, is sitting.

The name Archie Andrews illuminates my phone screen, and I breathe a sigh of relief. It's just Archie, not him.

"Hey, Ronnie. My roommate locked me out of my apartment, and won't answer my calls. Can I come over?" He asks nervously and I think it over for a minute.

If he comes over, it'll stop me from hurting myself. And keep me away from Nick.

"Yeah, of course. Could you bring some food though? I'm starved and all of my food is gone," I ask, and he agrees quickly.

"Pop's work?" Archie asks and I agree. "Okay, I'll be there in twenty minutes. Thanks."

Hanging up the phone, my mind wanders. I haven't let my mind wander in three weeks to the rape, to the emotionally and physically abusive piece of shit I was dating. Nick St. Clair and I started dating when we were 20, and our relationship lasted about a year. For the first couple months, we were perfect, never fighting, never bad.

And then he showed his true colors.

At a party one night, I was wearing a low-cut, short dress. It made me feel gorgeous and confident. "Take that off. Your body is only mine to see." He had demanded. I refused, and he slapped me. Hard. Across the face.

He'd apologized right after, saying that he was so sorry and that he didn't mean it. I believed him, telling only Archie about what happened.

For the next few months, that's all he would do, slap me and beat me, and then apologize. Every time I believed him, thinking it was honest. Thinking I was the problem, not him.

It stopped for about a month, him abusing me. We were both certain that we were in love, that we would be together for years. We did it a few times, consensually.

Well, the cycle started again after that month ended. Nick controlled all of my clothes, pictures, everything. And I let him. "Slut, that's what you are. Nothing more," he'd say if I wore something he deemed too tight, too revealing.

I wanted to break up with him, I did, but God knows what he would have done to me. Killed me, kidnapped me, beat me worse.

And do I put up with it, loved him anyways. Until the worst day of my life came, and he raped me. Pushed himself inside of me without my permission, violating me in the worst way possible, the most sensitive, dehumanizing way.

I broke it off immediately, telling him to fuck off.

Since then, he's been constantly sending me texts, calling me, sending me pictures, everything. Calling me names.

Bitch.

Slut.

Worthless.

Daddy's girl.

Whore.

Ungrateful.

Too goddamn sensitive.

Weak.

The only words in my head were those; the only ones that I could ever focus on.

I'm pulled out of my reverie by the doorbell ringing and run over to open the door, greeting Archie.

"Come in, come in! Make yourself at home," I gesture to inside, and he chuckles. Act normal, I tell myself. Like nothing happened.

Act normal. Yeah right.

Three minutes after he walks in, I burst into tears, everything reminding me of Nick all at once.

Archie walks over to me and pulls me in for a long hug, reminding me to breathe and whispering sweet nothings in my ear. I only cried harder at his concern.

"I'm sorry, it's just that, a few weeks ago, Nick, he," I dissolve into loud sobs that even I can't understand.

"What did he do?" Archie's strong, calming voice asks me, and I regain control of my breathing slightly.

"He r-r-r-raped me, Archiekins. I said no, and he didn't listen." I admit, and my tears flood his shirt. I feel his jaw clench, his hold on me become more protective.

"He did what?!" Betty walks in. Shit, I momentarily forgot she was coming over today.

"You heard her," Archie glares at Betty before continuing to comfort me.

"I've got to go hide a body." With that, Betty leaves, seething mad.

When I finally stop crying, Archie has pulled my phone out and opened my contacts, blocking him on everything.

"Ronnie, tomorrow, you have to tell FP what Nick did to you. He'll make sure no other girl has to go through this."

"Okay," I agree. No one should ever feel like this. "I'm also calling a therapist. I think, with everything going on right now, I need one."

"Good idea."

🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷

US Hotlines

RAINN (Rape, Abuse, Incest National Network)

1-800-656-HOPE (1-800-656-4673). Open 24/7. Also available at online.rainn.org.

Feminist Majority Hotline

1-800-658-6779. Open 24/7.

National Suicide Prevention Hotline

1-800-273-8255. Open 24/7. You can also text 741741.

This was not a normal one shot, because most of the time, they're pretty light hearted, but this is a topic that I felt needed to be discussed.

Rape and suicidal thoughts aren't discussed enough. I'm lucky that neither have ever happened to me, but I bet that at least one of you reading this has experienced one of them.

If you ever need to talk, I'm always here.

Later loves,

~Ry