Betty ran as fast as her legs could carry her, lungs burning with the effort it took to breathe. She knew the gash on her arm most likely required stitches but she didn't have the time to go to the hospital. She would know to look for her there. As Betty ran further and further away from the hell she was forced to call home, her surroundings became less and less familiar. She hadn't been on this side of town before. Pausing to let the stitch in her side pass, she slowed her running to a walk, staring at the many alleyways lining the street.
"Hey, lady, you lost?" A raucous voice shouted, followed by drunken laughter, and Betty kept her eyes glued forward. One step at a time, Betty, one step at a time.
"Come on doll, don't be like that," another chided, and Betty saw the two men stumbling their way towards her out of the corner of her eye. She was never one to ignore the fight or flight mode so right now she was questioning which one she should partake in. As a hand landed on her shoulder, her mind came to it's conclusion and she shoved it off.
"Don't touch me!" Betty hissed vehemently, eyes glaring at the inebriated man in front of her. He chuckled; the sound was sharp and predatory.
"Little thing such as yourself should know better than to go wandering into the night by herself. Where's mommy and daddy, princess?" The man snickered and Betty found herself wanting to throttle him.
"You know nothing about me," she said lowly, elbowing her way past him. She hadn't made it this far to be stopped by a couple of drunk idiots; she had handled worse on numerous occasions.
"Let's change that, darling," he smirked, reaching for her, but Betty ducked away from his grasp, nails digging into her palms.
"Stay away from me," she warned, eyes boring holes into him. The man chuckled.
"You're feisty, could be a lot of fun," he mused, and Betty shook her head in disgust. She was used to pigs all the time – it came with the family she had and the job they gave her.
"Whatever," she muttered, stalking past him. She covered good ground in about three seconds flat before she felt a hand yanking her back by her hair. She tried not to hiss in protest.
"That's not very nice," the man growled, breath tickling her nose. Betty did her best to suppress the grimace that wanted to stencil itself across her face at the smell of his rotten breath. Sighing, she calculated how long she had before the woman caught up to her; she always did.
"You've got about ten seconds to let me go," Betty said calmly.
"What if I don't want to, huh? What if I'm having fun?" The man asked darkly, and Betty chuckled lowly.
"Trust me, you won't be having near as much fun as me," she said, the words slipping past clenched teeth. She began counting backwards from ten in her head, rolling her eyes at the way the man smelled her hair and groaned. When she reached one, she didn't hesitate to shoot her elbow upwards, grinning in grim satisfaction when she heard his nose crunch.
"You stupid bitch!" He snarled, letting go of her to pinch his nose, which was bleeding profusely.
"That'll teach you to touch what doesn't belong to you," Betty snapped, before turning on her heel and running forward once more. Once the man's cries of pain was in the distance, she slowed her running once more, eye on her arm. The cut was deep, with blood and grime alike in the sensitive flesh. Sighing, she bent down to rip a piece of her sweater off at the bottom, using the cloth to act as a tourniquet of sorts.
Eventually, the sign she was desperate to see the most came into her eyesight and she sighed in relief as she walked into the bar. The Whyte Wyrm was relatively empty considering the time, and Betty looked around, wondering where everyone was. But, she couldn't dwell on it. She had bigger issues at hand. She made her way to the bar, looking for the familiar shock of pink hair that always greeted her.
"Hey, Betty," Toni called, and Betty smiled tiredly at her friend, flight or fight mode wearing off as her adrenalin wore off.
"Hey, Toni," she said, sitting down on the stole in front of the bar. The gorgeous bartender's eyes went automatically to her arm, where she spotted the bloodied strip of cloth.
"What the hell happened to your arm, Betty?" Toni demanded, and Betty sighed, shaking her head.
"You know better than to ask me questions, T," she muttered, and Toni frowned.
"Penny?" Toni asked softly, but Betty changed the subject from her adoptive mother.
"Can I have a whisky and coke, please?" Betty asked, and Toni sighed before nodding.
"I can't help you unless you tell me what's going on, you know," Toni chided, but Betty shook her head. She and Toni had been best friends since they were in diapers. Toni was one of the few people Penny allowed Betty to have minimal contact with since she was a member of the Serpents. As Toni slid the whisky and coke in front of her neatly, Betty took a sip, letting the strong burn make it's way down her throat.
"Is Jones in tonight?" Betty asked in attempt to distract the pink-haired beauty from demanding to know what happened. It worked. Toni nodded.
"He picked up Jughead from the prison this afternoon and they're in the back as we speak," Toni replied.
It had been two years since Betty had seen Jughead last and even when she had seen him before he went to prison, their time together was always minimal. Penny didn't like the way FP ran the Serpents, saying she'd recognize a traitorous snake any day, and forbade Betty from having anything to do with FP and his son. However, Betty was quite certain that Penny Peabody was the traitor, not FP. When she joined ranks with the likes of Malachi, Betty knew Penny would shed her skin in order to become a cutthroat leader. That's why she never let Betty adorn the same jacket she wore; she didn't want her sharing their skin.
Just then, a voice called out to them.
"Betty Peabody, as I live and breathe!"
Betty turned around, smiling warmly. "FP. And it's just Betty. No need for a last name."
FP chuckled. "With Penny as your mom, I reckon you have a fair point."
"Adoptive mom, FP," she corrected him with a smirk. The man loved to wind her up.
"C'mere, kid," he said, holding out his arms. Betty knocked back the rest of her drink before she went to go give him a hug. "I'll pretend like I didn't just see you drinking alcohol."
"It had coke in it, so not completely alcoholic," she informed him, feeling his chest vibrate with his booming laughter. When they pulled apart, he got a good look at her arm.
"What the hell happened?" FP demanded. Unlike Toni, he didn't know about the way Penny treated Betty behind closed doors so she simply shrugged.
"Tripped over a brick," she lied calmly.
FP chuckled. "You're the biggest klutz I've ever had the fortune to meet, Betty."
Betty rolled her eyes, looking to the left of him where his son was standing.
"Hey, Jughead," she greeted him, holding out her hand to shake. The guy took it, gripping it in his firm grasp.
"Betty, it's been what? Two years?" Jughead asked, and she nodded.
"Something like that. Maybe a bit longer, given the fact we didn't see each other too much before…," she trailed off, hoping he would fill in the blanks.
"Before I was arrested? Yeah, and who's fault is that?" Jughead teased.
Penny's. "Mine."
"Yeah, it seems Toni was the only one lucky enough to get to be with you," he added.
"Eat your heart out, Jug," Toni quipped, taking a sip of water.
Jughead studied Betty's arm. "That looks like it needs stitches. You should go to the hospital."
Swallowing down the fear at being somewhere that Penny could find her, Betty shook her head.
"It's fine," she replied politely but firmly, tone daring him to argue with her.
He took the bait. "You're bleeding pretty profusely, kid."
"I'm seventeen. Three years younger than you," Betty reminded him, and he chuckled.
"Not so much of a kid anymore," he agreed, and Betty smiled. "At the least, let me stitch it up."
Quirking an eyebrow, Betty addressed him. "You know how to put stitches in?"
"Prison taught me a thing or two," he replied, before tilting his head to back room. "C'mon. And, bring some alcohol."
Toni slid a bottle of tequila towards her before Betty even had to ask. Dipping her head appreciatively, Betty followed Jughead to the back room.
"Sit," he said, tilting his head towards a seat in the corner of the room.
"Where are those manners FP raised you to have?" Betty challenged, and he grinned sheepishly.
"Please," he added, ducking his head. Betty rolled her eyes as she made her way to the chair he had indicated and sat down.
"Take a swig of this because this is going to hurt like a bitch," Jughead said softly, unscrewing the lid to the tequila and handing the bottle to her. Betty took a gulp, noting the burn in her throat wasn't as apparent as it had been with the whisky. Good. That meant she might not be as uncomfortable as Jughead was insinuating.
"Take a deep breath, alright?" Jughead asked softly as he sat down on the chair next to hers. Betty nodded as she watched him pick up the needle and thread he had resting on a side table. She knew in his business with the Serpents that it was only considered beneficial to have someone who knew how to stitch skin together. She inhaled deeply, bracing herself for the pain. As he threaded in the first stitch, her fists clenched involuntarily, and she focused on the numbing pain that came from her usual coping mechanism.
"So, you tripped over a brick?" Jughead asked, and Betty knew he was trying to take her mind off the discomfort he was causing. Loosening her fists and laying her palms flat on her thighs, she exhaled as she nodded.
"That's what I said, isn't it?" Betty asked.
"That's what I heard," Jughead agreed. "Jury's still out on if I believe it or not."
"You can tell the jury to shove it," she said casually, eyes on the wall opposite her.
He tried a different tack. "How's Penny Peabody these days?"
Betty shrugged, face impassive. "She's fine."
"How long have you been living with her, now?" Jughead asked, eyes trained on her arm. Betty sighed.
"Since I was five," she replied. "My real mother bolted right after my fifth birthday."
"That's rough, I'm sorry," he said softly, and Betty shrugged again.
"Your condolences, while appreciated, are misplaced. I'm fine," she said acerbically.
Jughead seemed to have the sense to not push anymore and just finished sewing up her skin in silence. When he was through tying off the thread, he threw way the trash and looked at her.
"That's you done," he said, and she nodded.
"Thanks," she muttered. She stood up from the chair and made her way into the bar again, heading towards Toni and FP.
"I'm out for the night," she said.
"Betty, you can stay with me tonight," Toni said, but Betty shook her head.
"I promised Penny I'd be home," she said, and there was a knowing look in Toni's eye that said she understood the implications behind her words: Betty would get her ass kicked if she didn't get home to Penny. And, Malachi if he was there.
"Alright," Toni sighed in defeat. "Call me when you make it, yeah?"
Betty nodded. "Yeah."
With one more hug to FP, she nodded at Jughead, smiled at Toni, and turned on her heel, making her way to the hell that was surely waiting for her.
Author's note: Okay. Real talk: half my stories I don't have love for anymore. I've had this idea for a while and toggled back and forth with posting but here it is. I hope you give it chance and leave any kind of encouragement that you can. Always helps a writer out! Xxx