Jughead Jones stood out to Betty Cooper. Even at eight years old.
The world was cold, made of harsh lines and cutting wind that could bring grown men to tears. The sky was a scary but intriguing pool of black that both terrified and excited her. School had been cancelled for the day since night was falling early and the snow was set to continue. The yard was filled with children laughing, snow-ball fights igniting in the excitement. But the cries and squeals of her classmates playing in the snow didn't faze her. Neither did the snowflakes dancing, twirling in the bitter breeze. Betty Cooper stood very still in exactly three inches of snow. Since the snow had hit a few weeks ago, she had trouble remembering what the grounds of Riverdale Elementary looked like.
Right there, where she stood, there may have been stepping stones she liked climbing during the Summer. Betty could count the times she had fallen off, grazing her knees and trying hard not to cry. But every time she had looked down at her skinned knees, the river of scarlet dripping down her pale legs, she couldn't resist letting out a cry.
Though the snow did a good job of hiding their danger, and she was thankful for that. They didn't look the least bit threatening anymore. They were just four lumps sticking out of the snow. She wasn't scared. The stepping stones weren't scary to her anymore.
But she wasn't paying attention to the stepping stones. If a teacher or parent had been observing Betty at that moment, they would say she looked like she was caught in a daydream. She was standing, wrapped up in her pastel pink parka and snow boots, her hair flying in a whirlwind around her. When she reached out to catch snowflakes they fell gracefully on her cupped, gloved hands. She stopped to stare at the sky for a moment, gazing at the stars twinkling above her. Betty caught her name being yelled in an excited squeal. It might have been Veronica, urging her to join in their fun in the snow.
But Betty wasn't interested in her friend's, or their fun.
She turned to them and shook her head once, without speaking, before starting forwards again, straying strands of gold hair falling in determined blue eyes. It was one of those days when her mother Alice Cooper had insisted on Betty keeping her hair in its strict ponytail, along with her bright pink headband. But Betty always pulled it out by lunchtime. It was too long and tickled her back. Sometimes Reggie Mantle liked to tug at it, pretending her hair was a horses mane. Betty didn't find it as funny as he did.
She took her time striding through the piling drift. The weather forecast claimed it was the worst winter to ever hit the United States. But still, the girl didn't let the snow stop her. She walked further and further, the snow getting deeper and deeper. She was edging further and further away from the school grounds. There was a patch of grass, normally lush and green, now blanketed in white, which led out into Fox forest. If Betty went any further she was sure one of the teacher's would yell at her to come back.
But she was only walking towards the other kid, standing motionless below a glittering sky full of stars that he wasn't looking at. Instead, the boy stared straight ahead.
It wasn't until she found herself standing almost knee deep when Betty came to an abrupt stop. So did the soft padding noises her boots had been making in the snow, and her shaky breaths she could see swirling in the air.
She was just a few inches away from the boy, hesitating as if stepping forwards would cause her great damage. Betty knew who the boy was. Jughead Jones. She had never spoken to him. He was mostly quiet, only speaking if he had to. And if he did, it was always to Archie Andrews, Betty's neighbour. The two of them had been inseparable before she could even remember. Archie had curly red hair she liked to run her hands through and ruffle, often agitating the boy. He had freckles that danced across pale cheeks she played dot-to-dot with. Her stomach twisted when he grinned at her, kind brown eyes crinkling around the edges. Betty was almost positive she wanted Archie to be her boyfriend. But- when they got older...obviously. She had asked him to marry her on his seventh birthday. Archie had laughed so hard he'd nearly toppled out of his treehouse they were sitting in. "Maybe when we're older?" he'd giggled, and Betty had agreed.
She was going to marry Archie Andrews when she was older. But for now, they were just friends. Archie was close with Jughead, so what she was doing- maybe she could lie to herself and say that she was doing this for the redhead. Spying on his best friend.
It wasn't like Betty was a stranger to sneaking around. She did it a lot, and her victim was always Archie Andrews' weird friend. The boy with the notebook. Betty always found him hiding in their third grade classroom. When the others were playing outside she'd glimpse him still in his seat or sitting cross-legged on the floor, scribbling on faded white paper. Sometimes Archie would join him and Betty would watch them all lunchtime as they sat shoulder to shoulder. They spoke quietly. Sometimes Betty swore she heard Jughead crying and often Archie joined him, or tried to make the boy laugh.
Though it wasn't Jughead's notebook that intrigued Betty Cooper. It wasn't his seemingly one-sided friendship with her neighbour, or even his inability to speak to her.
Betty had noticed it a few weeks ago. During reading time she had looked up from her battered copy of Mystical Mary. Her favourite book. Jughead was seated behind Betty, and she couldn't resist turning around. The boy hadn't been reading. He didn't even have a book. Instead, Jughead was staring down at the grains of his desk. His hands were clasped in his lap; fingers poking from giant holes in his gloves. When he stood up at the sound of the bell Betty saw the boy wasn't wearing socks, his toes poking from ragged cavity's in his muddy converse. The more Betty payed attention to the boy, the more she saw him; the real him. Jughead wasn't just Archie's friend. He wasn't just Notebook Boy.
He was someone else; a boy she so desperately wanted to know.
It was when the first snow of Winter fell when Betty glimpsed the red welts on Jughead's skinny, pale arms when he pulled off his sweater. The boy's shirt was far too small for him. It was glued to his flesh. When he stretched, Betty glimpsed yellowing bruises scattering across his stomach and lower back. That was when she stopped looking. Told herself to look away and forget. Even when her throat was burning, her chest aching.
She had to tell someone. Tell Archie. Tell the teacher. Tell someone!
Except she didn't. Betty Cooper kept her mouth shut. Even when the truth was painted in front of her, practically screaming at her. Sometimes she'd find the words on the tip of her tongue when she was with her mother. "Jughead is hurting." she wanted to say it so desperately, cry it out to Archie on their way to school, to Cheryl and Veronica during quiet reading. The words were so loud in her head always trying to force their way from her mouth. But they were stuck in her throat, tangled on her tongue. Always stuck.
Betty didn't say anything. So Jughead continued to suffer. Every day that passed, there would always be a new bruise. Sometimes the boy limped to his seat, head ducked. Other days he'd find it hard to write wincing when he tried to put pen to paper. It was when she saw his tears splash on the pages when Betty forced herself to stop watching.
Jughead Jones was in pain. Jughead Jones was suffering.
But Betty Cooper kept it to herself.
Perhaps that's why she was standing in front of him, her breath in her throat. Betty shivered. She wanted to turn and run. It was a stupid idea anyway. Stupid, stupid. So stupid! But Betty didn't move. Her feet were already buried in snow. She was trapped. Betty felt tears stinging her eyes and let them fall, dribbling down her wind lashed cheeks. There he was; Jughead Jones. Standing alone as usual. She sensed him shivering too. His back was to her and all Betty could think of was the bruises, the welts, painting his skin like a canvas. He was hurting, and she had done nothing.
"Hey Jughead." her voice came out squeaky, and the boy actually jumped, startled, before twisting around. Jughead was wearing a coat far too big for him. It hung off his slim frame, flapping open, leaving him to bare the brunt of the icy blast nearly blowing the two of them off their feet. Jughead peered at Betty through thick strands of brown curly hair nestled underneath a knitted beanie. "Elizabeth Cooper?" his voice made Betty's heart skip a little, and she couldn't resist a giggle. It was the first time he had spoken to her. Ever. Suddenly words were caught in her throat. Betty's wandering gaze went to Jughead's purple gloves. The ones covered in holes. His thumb and pinky stuck out when he reached up to brush strands of his hair from his eyes. The boy was standing in knee deep snow like her, but Betty knew he wasn't wearing snow boots. Just his normal converse that were almost falling apart around his feet. Betty swallowed hard.
"Are you okay?" Jughead frowned at her. His nose was a bright cherry red, almost matching his cheeks. He let out a breath and it came out in puffs of white when he giggled nervously. "Aren't you going to play with the others?"
Betty opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead, she was unwrapping her long red scarf from around her neck. "You're cold." she said softly, before shakily handing the boy the scarf. Jughead stared at it for a moment, before looking up to meet her eyes. Tears were twinkling in his. "I am cold." he admitted with a shaky laugh.
Betty nodded. "Do you want me to put in on you?" and the boy was nodding his head quickly. "Yes please." he gasped in a single breath. The boy took a step towards her. "Am I close enough?" he murmured. Betty nodded, giggling. She raised the scarf above his head before wrapping it around his neck, around and around before tying a tight knot. Betty skipped backwards and admired her handiwork. "Better?" she smiled at him brightly.
Jughead's voice was thick. He wiped his eyes with his ragged gloves. "Uh huh." the boy sniffled and ducked his head. "Thanks Elizabeth." he whispered.
Betty nodded happily. "It's Betty." she said before holding her hand out for him to shake. "I'm Archie's friend."
His lip quirked. "I know." he murmured, hugging himself. Before Betty could open her mouth and accidently invite the boy to dinner, there was a familiar shout from behind the two of them. Archie came hurtling towards them, already covered in snow. He was grinning, his cheeks bright red from the chill. A fluffy hat sat on top of unruly red curls hanging in his eyes. Betty couldn't resist a smile, and when she looked at Jughead, the boy's lips were pressed together in a smirk he couldn't hide. "Jug!" always the hyperactive one out of Betty's small group of friends, Archie very nearly charged into Jughead.
The boy was out of breath. After catching it, he fixed the two of them with a grin. "Juggie! Veronica and Cheryl are going to show us the frozen Sweetwater river!" he gushed excitedly, his smile widening with every word. The boy brushed strands of his red hair out of his eyes and peered at his friend. "Dad's letting me go. Do you want to come?" Archie smiled easily. "I know I said you could come to mine for dinner, since..." the redhead glanced at Betty for a moment, the spark going from his eyes. The two boys shared a look, before Archie grabbed the raven haired boy's frozen hand and squeezed it tightly.
Betty knew what the look meant. But she didn't say anything, even when her heart was slowly plummeting into her stomach.
Jughead nodded at Archie, without saying anything, and the boy shoved him playfully with his shoulder, drawing a squeak of delight and then laughter from the raven head. He had been staring ruefully at the ground a few minutes ago. Now there was a grin on his face that made Betty want to laugh with the two boys. Jughead was smiling. She had known all of his expression's, though her young mind only registered them as sad, sad, sad.
But now she was seeing happiness. Archie made him happy.
Betty stood still. She wanted to join in, but she wasn't exactly Jughead's friend. She didn't have that connection he and Archie shared. The cold was starting to seep through the thick lining of her parka. It dripped through her leggings, she felt it skitter down her back. She shivered. Mom would be there to be pick her up soon. Armed with a flask of hot cocoa. Her mouth watered at the thought of drinking it fresh and hot, getting whipped cream caught on her chin. She took a second to notice snowflakes pirouetting in the air around them, getting thicker and thicker. She giggled when one landed on her nose.
"Anyway!" Archie startled her when he started speaking again, once more in his hyper, convoluted voice. "Uh- since dad said you're coming to my house, do you want to come with me, Cheryl and Veronica? Ronnie said the whole river is ice!" Archie stretched out his arms to emphasize. "The whole thing!" he exploded. Jughead cocked his head. "Really?" he whispered excitedly. "Do you think your dad will let us take pictures with his camera?"
The boy fidgeted with his hat, tugging it. "Dad said we can't use it tonight. But Jug, Cheryl told me all the fish have frozen too and I can't wait to see a frozen fish, do you really think there will be frozen fish? Dad said-"
"Okay, I'll come." Jughead giggled. "Arch, stop talking about frozen fish."
"The whole river looks like Elsa's come!" another voice exclaimed. Betty turned to find her best friend grinning at her. It wasn't hard to recognise the mayor's daughter, and in this case, one of Betty's closest friends; Veronica Lodge. She had long, curly black hair, her fringe pulled back by a purple headband. The girl was wearing all blue; a dark blue parka, matching gloves and a bobble hat that kept falling in her eyes. Holding her hand, there was Cheryl Blossom. The girl with hair the color of the sunset on warm Summer evening's. Miss Grundy, their teacher, had mistakened Cheryl and Archie as siblings. Cheryl's pigtails bobbed as she nodded excitedly. Betty saw Cheryl as competition sometimes. Veronica had two best friends; her and Cheryl Blossom. Though because her mom was so protective over her, Betty rarely got to see Veronica outside of school. Which meant Cheryl invited the girl to her house almost every weekend.
Veronica was short for her age but definitely had the loudest voice in the class. She, like Archie, was full of energy and excitement. "Oh please, you have to come, Jug!" with flushed cheeks and bright eyes, Veronica grinned widely at the boy. Betty couldn't seem to be able to tear her gaze from the two girls' joined hands. There was a funny feeling in her belly. She swallowed thickly. Archie turned to her, his brown eyes glittering.
"Do you want to come, Betty?" the boy smiled hopefully at her. "My dad's going to meet us on the other side of Fox forest."
Betty shuffled uncomfortably. Jughead was peering at her, Veronica and Cheryl stood shoulder to shoulder, anticipating her answer. Of course she wanted to join them. Seeing Sweetwater River transformed into their own personal Winter Wonderland did sound amazing. But something unsettling was brewing in Betty's gut. She smiled politely and shook her head. "I don't think my mommy would allow it." Betty stiffened when Archie's smile curled into a frown. "Ah..." he giggled nervously. "That's okay, Betty!" though the boy wasn't very good at hiding his disappointment. He shoved his hands in his pockets.
"Are you sure?" Jughead surprised her when he spoke. He was still wrapped up in her scarf and she couldn't resist a smile. "It's not that far away."
"Yeah!" Veronica chirped. "Plus, we have flashlights!" she produced one from her backpack, very nearly hitting Archie in the face with it.
Betty opened her mouth to consider, but an impatient voice made her jump. "Elizabeth!" turning around quickly, she spotted her mother standing at the school gates. Just by looking at the women, the eight year old knew the answer to exploring Sweetwater river in the pitch black was a definite No. "I need to go." she whispered quickly to the four of them. Betty turned to run to her mother, but Archie caught her arm quickly.
"I'll see you tomorrow?" he said with a smile, and she nodded, matching his grin. Jughead stayed silent, but he did give her a small wave. After exchanging goodbyes, Betty made it over to the school gates and wrapped her arms around her mother in a hug. It was freezing, and the hug made Betty feel better about leaving her friends.
Alice Cooper smelt of peach and mango perfume. "Oh Elizabeth, you've got dirt on your coat!" when her mother squatted in front of her to wipe at the material of her coat, Betty couldn't resist turning around and watch her friends set off into fox forest. She stared at them, blinking snowflakes from her lashes as the four of them headed into the clearing. The breeze was picking up, turning the light fall into a blizzard.
"Oh dear, it's freezing!" Alice exclaimed, smoothing down her hair and tugging her hat further down her forehead. "Sweetie, are you cold? I've got hot chocolate in the car. Do you fancy going to Pops? I can get you you a hot fudge sundae?"
"Okay." was all she could reply. Betty licked her dry lips.
The girl tried to listen to her mother's voice, but it sounded faded, almost as if she was underwater. She couldn't stop staring at her friends. For one terrifying second she wanted to wrench herself from her mother's grasp and run after them, crying out their names. Betty didn't care how heavy the snow was. She shivered when ice skittered down her spine. Her stomach twisted. Something was wrong. Betty felt tears sting her eyes.
She blinked them away quickly. "Mommy," she said softly, just as her mother began gently pulling her to the car. But Alice was still talking loudly, something about her ballet classes being cancelled. Completely ignoring her daughter. As the snow grew heavier, Alice walked faster, dragging the girl with her. Betty skidded on the icy sidewalk, struggling to set one foot in front of the other. Her breath caught in her throat, her hands growing clammy still in her mother's. She turned around again, unable to stop herself. Her classmates were getting further and further away, and Betty didn't understand why but she was crying. Her chest was aching, her stomach was doing cartwheels. They reached the car and Betty climbed in after her mother and pressed her face against the cool glass window, her wide blue eyes still on the retreating figures.
Archie and Veronica led the way, both holding flashlights. They were shouting loudly, tripping in snow drifts. Betty could hear their laughter riding on the blast of icy wind turning her body to ice. Cheryl had hold of Jughead's arm, pulling the boy along with her. Betty watched them until they were shadows, bouncing along in the torch light, before disappearing completely. Her tummy was hurting again. Betty sat back in the soft leather seats and closed her eyes. She let out a soft sigh when her mother clicked on the heating, basking in the warmth. Alice started the car and Betty suddenly felt horribly sick. She swallowed hard when the car flew forwards. "Betty, are you sure you're okay?"
"Uh-huh." she turned to Alice and forced a smile. Pops did sound good. Her stomach rumbled. But Betty couldn't seem to stop thinking about Archie and the others. Every time she thought about Jughead, her stomach hurt terribly.
"Elizabeth, where's your scarf?"
Betty leaned against the window, avoiding her mother's prying gaze. Busted.
"I let Jughead Jones borrow it because he was cold, mommy," she said truthfully. Betty had let the boy borrow her scarf mostly so she had a reason to speak to him in class the next day. Alice stayed silent for a moment before sighing. "Gladys Jones is in no fit state to look after that boy," she muttered. "Just make sure you tell him to bring it back, sweetie."
Though Betty never got her scarf back. Hours later Betty had been halfway through a Pop's Special hot fudge sundae, eagerly explaining her story idea she was excited to write for class when Alice had received a call from Archie's father. Looking at the expression on her mother's face, Betty's appetite had vanished. She dropped her spoon and leaned across the table, wincing at how loud it clanged against her bowl, whipped cream still fraying around the edges. She couldn't eat anymore. If she did, she'd throw up.
"What is it?" Betty whispered. Her tummy was hurting again. Though Alice wasn't listening to her. Her eyes were wide and frantic, lips twisted. "Fred, honey, calm down. Okay. Alright. Look, I'm with Betty now. I'll come and help you and the Lodge's okay?"
When Alice's battered iPhone 4 slipped from her grasp and hit the table Betty could taste the sundae crawling back up her throat. Her mother looked distressed, but managed to steel herself in front of her frightened eight year old.
"Elizabeth, Archie hasn't gotten home yet, and his father is very worried," Alice took hold of Betty's hands and squeezed them, her blue eyes searching Betty's.
"Did you see him after school? Did he go off with anybody?"
Betty told her mother everything, and then again, hours later to Kevin Keller's dad, Sheriff Keller. By then she could only whisper. She never let go of Alice's hands as the questions flew at her. From Veronica's parents, then Cheryl's. Jughead's mother was absent. Betty went to bed that night with a lump in her throat. They were okay. She told herself. Her friends were okay, and they were going to be in class the next day. Archie, bragging about how many frozen fish he saw, Veronica and Cheryl running around pretending to be Anna and Elsa. Jughead- Betty's chest hurt again and she buried her face in her soft toys. She could hear the adults yelling downstairs. Fred Andrews was the loudest, his voice breaking. Betty squeezed her eyes shut and clamped her hands over he ears.
Jughead would be there with his nervous smile, his bright green eyes, and he'd give Betty her scarf back. Yes. She let herself smile, holding tightly onto the fantasy.
Except Jughead wasn't in class the next day. Neither were Veronica, Archie or Cheryl. Sheriff Keller came to speak to Betty's class and there were more questions being thrown in her face. They became overbearing. She found herself sitting in the sheriff's station with the man himself in front of her. A glass of milk had been placed on the metal table and she kept taking sips. At first the milk was cool and refreshing, but the more she drank, as her mother talked to the sheriff and they talked about divers breaking through the ice in Sweetwater looking for bodies, it quickly grew sour in her mouth, then sickly- until she couldn't drink it anymore. Betty pushed the glass away, swallowing.
As the days went by, she kept silent. Only speaking when she was spoken too. Repeating the same thing in a voice that quivered. "They were going to see the river, Sheriff Keller. No, I didn't see anybody go with them." Betty kept telling herself any moment the four of them would burst through the doors and everything would be okay.
But they never did. Days passed, then weeks, months, years. Betty grew older and the town eventually accepted the four's disappearance as a freak accident. But Betty never stopped believing that they were alive; that somewhere, Archie Andrews was thinking about her marriage proposal and Jughead Jones still had hold of her long red scarf. When Betty was old enough, she ventured into Fox Forest herself. She wasn't even sure what she was looking for. The river had been dragged multiple times. There were no traces of her friends. No arrests had been made. The four of them had dropped out of existence.
But Betty never lost hope. Her mother had told her something when she was younger. Alice Cooper had wiped tears from Betty's eyes, wrapped her daughter in a tight hug and spoke softly, nuzzling her blonde curls. "Elizabeth, I know you miss them," she whispered softly. "Let me tell you something okay? And never, ever forget it sweetheart."
Betty had pulled away, nodding, with swollen eyes and tear streaked cheeks. Alice tucked a strand of the girl's hair behind her ear. "If you can still feel them, sweetie," the woman seemed to be having trouble keeping it together herself. "If you can still feel them and know right here-" she pressed the palm of her hand over the girl's chest. "that they're somewhere out there," Alice cupped the girl's cheeks. "then you can never lose faith, okay? Elizabeth, when I lost your grandfather I felt it." she whispered. "Do you understand? I physically felt a tug in my chest and I knew he wasn't here anymore."
Betty had nodded, tearfully. "I know they're out there, mommy." she had muffled into her mother's chest. She didn't see the dark look in Alice's eyes. Who had tearfully accepted the four's deaths long before wrapping her own daughter in a bone-crushing hug.
Four eight year old's disappearing, presumed dead in a tragic accent. That's what the sheriff department suspected. But her Elizabeth was safe and sound in her arms.
Through the years Betty had never felt a tug- or a sickly feeling in her gut. She never had the feeling of ultimate loss. Her mother's words stuck in the back of her head, a reassuring shove when she found herself at moments of hopelessness and broke down.
Betty never forgot about Archie, or Jughead, Veronica and Cheryl. She never stopped believing, and had faith that one day she would see them again.
One day.
Eight Years Later.
"Betty?" Archie's giggle was an incessant echo, reverberating around her skull.
"Do you want to come with us?"
Sometimes, but not all the time, Betty dreamed about them. And no matter how many therapy sessions she forced herself through, they never stopped. It was always the same dream with the exact same ending. She was back in her elementary school playground. It was snowing; flakes dancing across her vision. The sky was always pitch black. But this time there were no stars. When Betty tipped her head back, it felt like she was staring into oblivion. And oblivion wasn't beautiful. It wasn't intriguing. Betty felt an unremitting peel of terror when her eyes found the vivid pool of black. Sometimes when she found her gaze lost in the clouds, she couldn't help wondering if that's where her missing classmates were. Stuck in the darkness. The never ending oblivion. Forever.
It didn't take Betty long to tear her gaze from the sky, her heart skipping in her chest. But then there he was; standing directly in front of her; a shadow slowly turning into a figure her mind was sketching from the memories refusing to leave her mind. Jughead Jones. His green eyes were especially bright, practically glowing in the blizzard whipping around the two of them. The same dark curls hung over his golden forehead, that stray curl poking from his knitted beanie. Her red scarf was still wrapped around his neck and a smile was pricking on his lips. Jughead never said anything, though. He simply stared at her, while Betty tackled her numb mind. She fought hard to push words through her lips, scream something. Words that had been muddled on her tongue for eight years.
"Jug!" her mind cried. "Jughead, where are you?" Betty wanted to reach forwards and grab hold of the boy, tugging him back. So he would never step foot in the woods. Except she couldn't move. She couldn't speak. Her tongue was always tangled, as tied as it had been all those years ago. It was so frustrating! While Betty screamed, throwing her arms into the stubborn barrier in her mind that separated the two of them, Jughead simply smiled at her. It was the very first and last time she had seen him smile.
The dream didn't last long and nothing ever changed. The snow was always up to her knees, and she could feel it in perfect clarity. She felt ice sliding down her back, already soaking through her socks, snowflakes hanging from strands of her hair.
Betty could feel the bitter chill blowing her younger selves hair across her face, lashing her rosy cheeks.
She only stood there stupidly, waiting for the inevitable. Waiting for what played like a stuck record in her mind, over and over again until she wanted to scream till her throat was raw, her chest aching, her heart splintering. Betty wondered if Jughead still had his bruises, painted his olive skin like a canvas. The horrific dark blues and yellows dotting his body. Jughead's mother Gladys Jones had moved away after his disappearance. When she was younger, Betty thought it was because the woman couldn't deal with her loss.
But now Betty knew it was guilt. Pure, unadulterated guilt.
Then Archie would appear, seemingly out of nowhere. Always with the same bright smile, the laughing brown eyes that crinkled around the edges and that mop of red curls poking from underneath his hat. Like Jughead, Archie never said anything. Until the last second, when he would ask her, in his incredibly adorable squeaky voice, if she was going to join them. And every time Betty had tried to say yes, tried to nod her head that was stubbornly still. Her body was stuck, her limbs numb. She could only watch her younger self smile politely. "I can't." she would say softly. "Mommy would never allow it."
Betty could only watch helplessly as disappointment flickered in her neighbour's eyes, and she so desperately wanted to lunge forwards and wrap the boy in a hug. But it was just a dream. She wasn't the one who controlled it. It was all her brain. Archie would nod his head. "Oh." he'd giggle softly. "That's okay. Another time then?"
"Another time?" her mind mocked his voice. Always the same whispers, sometimes sounding like Veronica and Cheryl. They hissed at her, relentless cries and shrill screeches.
"Another time then?"
"Another time then?"
"No!" Betty knew it was coming. She heard her own words, quivering in the chill. Her mother's voice hit her like a wave of icy water. "Elizabeth!" before her younger self was taking steps back, away from them, and Betty was crying, screaming at herself to stay. Stay with them. "I should go." she whispered. Archie and Jughead nodded, and Betty waited for the dream to drag her away, icy fingers gripped around her arm, a violent tug pulling her back into a reality without them present. Where she had grown up, and they were still eight years old, stuck in time, stuck in every dream and nightmare that plagued her.
"I'll see you guys later?" every time she would say something different. But nothing ever changed. Betty would take slow steps back, smiling awkwardly, before turning to run to her mother. Archie caught her arm, and she was forced to face his bright smile, those hopeful eyes. "See you tomorrow?"
Not likely. Her mind muttered. Betty ignored it and nodded. What else could she do? She couldn't alter the past. It had happened, and there was no way of going back.
"Bye Betty!" Veronica's voice was always in her mind, but the girl was never with Archie and Jughead. Her giggling felt so close, as if the girl was right next to her. But when Betty risked looking for the girl, nobody was there. It was the same with Cheryl. Sometimes Betty glimpsed a flash of red, glimmering in the sheets of snow falling in front of her eyes. "Bye Veronica." she said softly. Betty knew she hadn't said that originally. Her younger self had been far too annoyed with the girl, jealous at the mayor's daughter dumping her for Cheryl Blossom. But Betty hadn't seen her best friend in so long. She ached to see the girl again, even if it was just for a second, even if it was in her dreams. Except Veronica Lodge never made an appearance. Just her laughter.
Just like that, it was over. Archie and Jughead were turning around, and Betty's feet were glued to the ground, stuck in the snow. Their names were on her lips, but her dream self didn't cry out for them. She simply watched them walk away, hand in hand. The last thing she saw was Archie's red curls, before they disappeared completely, striding into oblivion. Betty tried to run after them. But her feet were stuck. She was paralysed, Veronica's giggles rattling her brain until she screamed herself awake.
Though unlike the others, this times she woke up, soaked with sweat in her sheets, the same scream tumbling from her dry throat. But something was different. Something that made her chest ache, heart stammer. Betty felt the chill of the snow still gracing her cheeks. She was shivering, her teeth chattering as her mother burst through the door, already knowing what was wrong. Knowing exactly what was wrong with her daughter.
Alice Cooper just hugged the girl, while a much older Betty sobbed into her chest. Older, but still broken. Still a scared child.
"Shh, it's okay sweetie." Alice murmured softly. "It was just a dream, Elizabeth."
But Betty was shivering from the bitter cold. She still felt the ice in her veins, the snowflakes melting on her forehead. This time it didn't feel like a dream.
This time it felt real.
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