When I say I love you, its not because I want you or because I can't have you. It has nothing to do with me. I'm in love with what you are, what you do and how you try. I've seen your kindness and your strength. I've seen the best and the worst of y...
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Jughead speeds down the road heading South. He's going top speed with no helmet and no fucks. He passed Southside Riverdale awhile ago but he's not ready to stop. He wants to be as lost as he feels.
The world is crashing in on him. His emotions are too much too reign in. He's pissed. He's thoroughly pissed, has been his whole life if he really thinks about it.
In a moment of self pity in epic proportions he thinks about how life had never been fair to him. He wonders if it will ever be. He's so mad and so broken and he can't begin to piece himself together right now. He cannot direct his anger because it's all consuming and overpowers everything in its wake.
Jughead feels something he doesn't believe he ever truly felt.
Hate.
He never knew hatred could be so pure, but it is. His hate has no solid place of dwelling. He's not sure if he hates Riverdale, the world, his life, or himself in general. Had he done something to bring all of this on in a past life?
The part that hurts the most is he cannot bring himself to hate all the things his mind tells him he should.
Riverdale.
Northsider.
Archie.
Betty.
His parents, both of them.
Veronica.
Instead he focuses the hate inward into a deep abyss of self loathing. It suffocates him. Sometimes the snake of his back has its tail wrapped around his throat.
Some much corruption and greed. It's everywhere it's in everyone. He's always been so passive. He's tired of being passive. He's tired of letting things happen to him and happen around him. He has no idea how to take control. Joining the Serpents had been a step, but now it was also making him feel more helpless then ever especially after being put on probation for trying to help. Now he had a group behind him that he also felt helpless to save. What he'd done to Penny had cost him something deep within himself. He'd always had darkness but it had never been violent or malevolent. The part that scares him the most is how much a part of him liked what he did to Penny.
He remembers his hands wrapped around Veronica's throat. He had felt in control then. The image runs through his mind unhidden. He had put just enough pressure to be imposing but not enough to cause her harm. He would like to say he doesn't know where the impulse came from but he knows exactly where. Veronica becomes her father and he imagines his hands around Hiram Lodges neck. The image dies out as Jughead concedes he isn't a murderer. Not yet. However, he does need to take control of the situation he cannot run forever.
How desperate does one have to become to result to such measures? How far down the rabbit hole was he willing to explore?
He stops his bike on the side of the road where there is a break in the trees and he can overlook the forest down the hill. He sits sideways on his motorcycle and lets his mind go blank as he takes in the vast space of green.
How easy to be a tree it must be.
The anger and hate festering in him breaks the surface and he screams his pain into the green abyss of forest. He has an aim now. H e wants to shoot back at Riverdale in a trail of fury. He's done being passive. He's done being trampled over. He's done having things taken from him. He's tired of the panic always residing in him that they might be trying to take his father again, but he uses it to fuel his rage. Finally after a day of mental blocks plans begin forming in his mind. He knows what has to be done. He has to embrace the dark, all of it. His father had done it to protect the Serpents before, it was his turn now. Hiram had embraced it to stretch his pockets and his influence, he had to turn it against him now. Hiram was born in the Northside, he was like Archie. Hiram could dance with the darkness all he wanted but he hadn't been born into it. Jughead needs to show Hiram Lodge that dancing with the darkness would always catch up. The song would always end and sometimes the light never comes back.
Jughead started his bike back up and shot off towards Riverdale. He pushed his bike as fast as he could shifting gears. He felt weightless as he sped through the empty lane.
A slight drizzle of rain had begun accompanied by the roll of thunder. Jughead felt it was his vengeance come to life. The rain began to pour harder and he had yet to slow down he felt his pulse pick up as the hatred surge through his veins. He felt like a cobra poised to strike. The venom rose to the surface and all he had to do was strike his target.
Burn the script.
Burn it all.
Jughead knew that if Riverdale wanted to burn down the Southside he would make sure the Northside got caught in the flames too.
It also occurs to him that all the hardship his father must've faced. He now knew the pressure of leading a group against the world in the worst of circumstances. It had driven Jughead to the dark so he could not help but understand his fathers own downward spiral into the bottle.
To think that Jughead was only leading the younger Serpents not even the gang as a whole. His father needed more credit. He would give his father that credit just as the rest of the Southside did. He would help wherever he could whenever he could. They jokingly called him the Serpent prince a title he hated because he had never felt like any type of royalty, but he would take up the whole mantle to save his home. He would be as bad as he had to be. He would destroy Riverdale if it would send the message
THE SOUTHSIDE IS OFF LIMITS.
Jughead's body reacted before his body even knew what was happening.
A flash of light and the sound of a cars horn blared through his mind. Jughead's body tensed as he shielded his face in the brief half a second between losing his balance and falling off. His tires slipped on the rain drenched pavement. He slammed into the ground so hard he felt his bones shatter right before everything went black. He glided hard across the rough road. Thankfully he had instinctively shielded his face with his arms forcing his shoulders to take the brunt of the force.
His slide of the road, his bike a few feet away from his body. The rain poured harder and lightening crackled as the screech of tires could be heard in the distance piercing the night as if fled the scene
