Pop's was lightly dimmed and calm during night time, no one would come in except few delinquents drunk on their feet ready for trouble. I had gotten used to the air and tension surrounding this place and it was pleasant when everyone stayed away. Which they did, I was gloomy and unapproachable. The way I preferred it.

Currently there was no one except me and some random teens here, there was barely any tension but the mood was gloom and fear. It was as if everyone wanted to say the obvious but no one dared to speak, they all continued normally as if the lives in Riverdale hadn't changed. Ignoring the brutal murder of Jason Blossom wasn't ignoring it, it was not acknowledging it most of the time.

Many wanted to be left out of it if they had nothing to do with him in the first place, and so they didn't want to have anything to do with him later either. I could understand that, and I would do the same if it wasn't for my overwhelming need of distraction. My life ws filled with catastrophe and adding another one would barely change anything, it would just be a distraction to my other problems which are more personal and as such worse.

The murder of Jason Blossom was also a changing point of lives in Riverdale and as such it also intrigued me. Of course this horrible act that has happened had a bigger and more disastrous impact on others, like Betty. She was wrapped up the entire phenomenon like a fly in a spider's web, and the spider's web was the mystery of the Blossoms. I knew her own family had a web of lies of their own, only theirs was more neatly webbed, less invasive and obvious to the inhabitants of Riverdale. Until now of course.

Now since the entire town knew of Polly's pregnancy the web was getting shredded as Betty slowly struggled against it and ripped the truth out. She was fighting even though she was so small in that entire big world, which is why I had unwillingly gotten tangled in the mess too, personally. Everything became personal once you developed feelings for the person that was in a certain disaster. And I had to admit my small wings were getting tangled in this big web, slowly and painfully. It was exhausting.

Now the entire Jason Blossom murder wasn't just a distraction, it was an addiction and a need to keep myself from doing things I'd regret. Typing and thinking and making the entire story was addictive, and a perfect distraction from adding scars to my own skin and reminders of my past.

Age 10

As I sat on the porch of the house carefully turning the page of my book I heard ruffling of leaves from the tree next to me. My eyes like a hawk's turned to it sharp attention. I observantly looked at it and shrugged when nothing else happened. The book he was reading was a murder mystery, he loved reading those. Looming over a book was what he excelled at and what bullies excelled at making fun of.

I didn't have a lot of friends which didn't matter, I didn't believe in status, I knew why they didn't want to play with me. I knew it was because of my nerdy exterior and smart-ass attitude. I never cared what others said, to an extent I was just the gloomy kids in the back of the class with his nose in a book. His hair would always fall over his face so he wore a nerdy hat which the bullies sneered at. I was aware of course, but again I didn't care. This didn't mean I didn't crave attention, I wanted to be loved and have nice friends.

The world just wasn't crafted so everyone got lucky with that.

Miracles do happen from time to time of course; the smile on Archie's face was proof. He would come over to my house to play every day, he demanded we climb trees. I told him that was preposterous every time but still did it. I would never admit I was actually having fun, I would scoff and make a witty remark.

I was a nerdy, witty and lonely kid, Archie was different. But he was fortunately my friend, and I was glad.

Archie Andrews was a bright kid, a happy kid. He was energetic and polite, compassionate, I was sure everyone would love to be his friend. I wasn't Archie's best friend, that was Betty, a pretty girl that was Archie's neighbour. They were inseparable.

"HEY! JUGHEAD! "

I rose my head calmly as I heard Archie's voice loudly yell. He was running towards the porch of my house where I was sitting, his ginger hair flopped while he ran. I wondered why he was shouting, he knew I solved things calmly.

As Archie neared I noticed he looked upset, his eyes were stained red and his cheeks wet with droplets. It was apparent they were tears, his smile was even non-existent. Something bad happened to erase the smile off the face of Archie Andrews and that was the moment in my life I realised that life needed healing.

Archie finally stood in front of me and looked up at him slowly, I felt horrible. I wanted to cry seeing my friend like this but i held it back sharply. Archie's lip twitched and I saw him trying to explain to me whatever that had upset him.

"M-my mom...mom, she... "

I rose suddenly letting the book fall to the floor. The book toppled to the floor and almost did my heart as I stared at Archie desperately.

"Mom a-a-and d-d-d-da-"

"Shush"

I hugged him tightly unsure if this was how people were to be comforted. All I knew was that comforting someone broken was what mattered. I was sure I knew what had happened too, I had been suspecting it for months now. I knew a divorce before it happened.

Archie had never been quite the same since then, he was more shy and closed about his problems than before. Luckily it didn't hit him hard as it had hit me when my parents got a divorce. Unlike my parents Archie's let him visit both of them from time to time, his mom lived somewhere upstate and Archie visited her from time to time.

I don't think I've seen much of my mom and sister ever since they left, maybe twice but everything else was rare in between phone calls. I wanted so badly to unite the family was broken and shattered, Archie's had a slight crack which didn't affect the love that made them all a family. Not to mention back then Archie had only been sad because his parents were getting separated, he knew very well they weren't going to stop being a family. When the divorce with my parents happened it was heated, full of hatred, disgust and fear which scarred me.

Age 8

The chair in the kitchen was shattered, broken and as I looked through the mildly opened door I saw my mother's pain taken expression too. She was holding her head in comfort as my father, most probably, drunkenly laughed again. He was not himself when he was drunk, always slurring things he shouldn't carelessly.

"Why, oh, why again?"

My mother groaned desperately. Her lanky hands rested on the dirty kitchen counter shakily. I soon realised that she was sobbing and that there was no going back to the damage my father had inflicted on the family. Her tears could vouch for the pain that was active in her heart and my eyes had witnessed enough to know this was the final straw.

"Wasting practically all of our money on going out to get fucking piss drunk with you so called 'friends'? HOW DO YOU THINK I CAN TAKE CARE OF THE FAMILY ALONE?"

I flinched at her tone, I had heard her being angry before but what I was witnessing now was pure rage. This had to be the time the family got completely shattered, it has been a fragile vase for such a long time, void of love. This had to be the moment it gets tipped off, falls and shatters on the floor while each piece lays broken waiting to be rid of.

This had to be the moment.

"I am so sick. "

She breathed in sharply.

"So, so sick of you! "

Her words were laced with venom and I wasn't sure who was getting poisoned more, me or my father.

"I am sick of your gambling, wasting, ignorance and pure idiocy! I am going, we are over! OVER!"

She screamed and time stopped in a way, or the tension was too thick and no one could move. I sure couldn't, it was as if my lungs had forgotten how to convert oxygen into carbon dioxide. Soon of course my mother's tears dried and she wiped them slowly and laughed.

"I, I should have done this sooner, I would've spared myself the unnecessary pain. "

Those words hurt me at the time, I couldn't believe that my mother would just leave like that. Leave the family in shambles and leave half of the mess uncleaned. But as years passed I realised if I were in her position I would've done the same. She had the stress of taking care of two children while her drunk and irresponsible husband gambled and left messes around left and right.

In a way I had done the same, I also left home, if it could be called home at all. So me and my mother had done similar, but it didn't make the hurt of loss of a family any less painful. Having no one in my life was hard.

I didn't have my parents to help me, my sister and Archie had been distanced from me by the age of 15. I was literally alone, no one to turn to in any direction, and I had to admit back when I was 14 and 15 that took a huge toll on me. A bigger one then I should've ever experienced. I fidgeted with the corners of my long sleeved jacket, it reminded me of what I was trying to hide and repress. I got the urge again and immediately started typing again to distract myself from it.

Age 15

The drive in was empty, only person residing here was me. Of course I resided here for a bigger purpose than to just chill, I lived here. I refused to enter the house of the bloody Jones where my father was. Here I was at least left alone to my own thoughts, which I didn't know if it was good or bad.

My thoughts tended to be destructive and harmful for my own self. I didn't know how to stop them, they just came whenever I was alone. Which was always, my constant state.

That exact reason was why I wasn't surprised to see my hands were already covered in scars, I was reminded why I hated going home.

Because it was no longer my home.

I was upsetting myself with these memories and I knew it. My fingers were slightly shaking as I attempted to write another paragraph. But it was futile, I had upset myself too much and the urge was coming to me all over again, but I couldn't, I shouldn't. I have been clean for three months and ruining it now would well for the lack of better words, ruining.

I sloppily wrote a few more sentences; I couldn't take it anymore.

As I rose from my seat slowly and uncertainly someone grabbed my shoulder firmly. I looked around to see Betty looking at me concerned. I felt guilty all of a sudden, like I had been caught stealing cookies out a cookie jar and my mother had caught me. Her expression was one of confusion too, of course she would be, I never let anyone see how broken I was.

So I attempted a cheeky smile.

"Hey, Betty, what brings you here? "

She didn't look amused, she just sat down next to me. Her eyes looked right inside me and I felt helpless, how could I evade her curiosity. I didn't want her to know what I did to myself, what would've done if she hadn't appeared.

"Jug, are- "

She bit her lip nervously.

"Are you alright? "

I tried to calm myself and casually relax into the seating, but I was too tense and my hands were shaking. I was stubborn.

"Of course, why wouldn't I be? "

I plopped a cherry of her milkshake in my mouth, I still looked to fidgety to be casual and I painfully realised she was bound to find out something. So I sadly looked at the table suddenly, I refused to meet her eyes.

"Jug, why are your hands shaking so bad. "

I, in a blink of an eye, hid my hands behind my back and sharply moved closer to the window, I wasn't ready for anyone to know.

"Jug- "

"Just leave it Betty! "

She looked at me shocked, and I myself was surprised at the sharp tone I used on her. The way I lashed out at her was the same tone my mother used when she lashed out at my father. I realised I was over the point of rationality, I was too big of a mess to drag Betty into any of it.

" I'll just leave now, excuse me- "

I rose up and started picking up my things whilst avoiding Betty's eyes, she was having none of it. She grabbed my hand sharply and pulled up my sleeves to see why they were shaking.

"Honestly Jug, if you got inured just let me- "

She gasped loudly.

And just like when my mother said those words to my father that fateful day time froze in a way, or we just didn't move from the thick tension in the air. All I knew was that at one point a tear slid down Betty's eyes and my own pain filled eyes met hers. Unlike my mother she didn't lash out angrily.

She hugged me, and for the first time in years I let myself cry.

"We'll fix this Jughead, I swear. "

Now the question that has been lingering in my mind for years was answering itself. What happens when you live?

You feel emotions, bad or good. You get hurt and you get healed. You make friends and enemies. But most importantly you feel what it's like to be loved, and god dammit did I need that.

so tell me, how bad do you feel for jughead?

have i emotionally challenged you?

hopefully i have huehuehuehue