An ear piercing scream left the redhead's throat as the reality of the situation began to resonate with her. This was not a joke. This was really happening. Whatever this was.

"Wake up, Cheryl," she told herself to no avail. "You have to wake up. This cannot be real. You…I ... cannot look like that. This is all just an incredibly vivid nightmare."

The front door of the trailer flew open as Jughead Jones nearly fell through the threshold.

"Hobo?"

"W-what?" His face scrunched in confusion before remembering the reason for being there, "I heard a scream. You okay?"

"What's going on? Where am I? Where's Toni?" Cheryl's bottom lip trembled as she listed off her questions. She had never been so lost or confused in her life, not even when her mother had discarded her with the Sisters.

Jughead squinted at her, attempting to figure out if she was serious. "Cher, are you high?"

"Of course not! Will you please answer my questions," she pleaded.

"You're home? This," he waved his arms around, "is where you live. As for what's going on, I have absolutely no idea."

Cheryl scoffed at the accusation, "I most certainly do not. I live at Thistlehouse, the same place I've lived for over a year, ever since Thornhill burned down. You know all this!"

"Thistle...what? Seriously, what laced shit did Tank sell you this time?"

"Please just tell me where Toni is. You are talking nonsense, Jones."

"Toni? You mean Toni Topaz?"

She huffed, "Of course I mean Topaz. You know? My girlfriend."

The raven haired boy burst out laughing at her claim. "I never realized you could be so funny, Cheryl. All this time you've been holding out on me. Like you'd ever date the Northside Princess."

"Wh-"

"Hey, but if you are really okay, I gotta run. My shift starts in fifteen. Was just walking by when I heard that banshee noise thing you had going on." He reached up and scratched his head through his beanie, "Seriously though. If this, whatever it is, doesn't wear off soon text me asap. I can have one of the Serpents sit with you or something."

"Wai-"

"Just sit down on the couch. This will pass; I promise. Here," he opened the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of water before tossing it to her. Cheryl managed to catch it as her eyes blinked rapidly, still not processing what the hell was happening. "Drink that. All of it. You hear me? I'm stopping by as soon as I'm off to check on you. Alright?"

The redhead nodded silently.

"Cool, see you in a few hours," he confirmed before turning to walk back to the front door, still left ajar. The boy paused as his hand gripped the doorknob, "I mean it, Cher. Sit. Drink." He gave her a nod and a smile before exiting the trailer, pulling the door closed behind him.

Cheryl sat the bottle down on the TV stand next to her and ran back to the room she had woken up in, hoping to find some sort of clue to explain what was going on. Something was seriously wrong. Her friends wouldn't do this. Jughead Jones wouldn't worry about checking up on her. She wouldn't have so carelessly pierced her perfect skin. Nothing was right about any of this.

When she had awoken the redhead had not bothered to really examine where she was, and now that she was she noticed multiple Polaroids taped to the wall behind the bed. She swallowed the lump forming in her throat as she approached them. As she feared, they were of her, this version of her. There were a few of her and Jason, but there didn't seem to be any of them past the age of 12 or 13. Most of them, however, were of her with Jughead of all people.

What kind of hell is this?

The redhead went the her closet, looking for some sense of herself but found none. There were a variety of shirts and jackets in her size, but at first glance Cheryl couldn't see a single piece of clothing she'd ever be caught wearing. Everything was cheaply made, and no where in the array of clothes was an ounce of red.

There is no way this is mine. This is someone else's stuff. Someone else's life.

She noticed a safe on the flood beneath the hanging garments. Cheryl knelt down and attempted to open it with no luck. The redhead turned the dial using her birthday as the combination, but it was no use. Out of habit she then tried Toni's; she froze on the second number.

Toni.

Cheryl recalled the words Jughead had spoken.

"Like you'd ever date the Northside Princess."

Cheryl looked around the room, hoping to find a smartphone or something she could use to access the internet. Her eyes landed on an old tower PC sitting a the desk wedged between the foot of the full size bed and far wall. Immediately, she ran to the computer and sat in the metal folding chair in front of it. She placed her hand on the mouse, moving it around to wake the computer from sleep. To her dismay, a login screen appeared.

"Damn it."

She leaned back in the seat, hoping the necessary password would magically come to her. Her eyes traveled upwards, looking for inspiration, when a book laying flat on top of the desk caught her eye. Along its side the were words "Riverdale High Yearbook 2017-2018."

Cheryl stood from the uncomfortable chair and reached up to snatched the book from its ledge. She then grabbed a shirt from the floor to use as a makeshift rag and wiped the dust off the cover before throwing it back to which it came. The redhead walked over to the bed, sat down on the edge, and stared at what was in her hands. Nervously, she opened it and began flipping through the pages to find her class.

Cheryl didn't bother looking at anyone else's pictures, all she cared about was finding the T's. Her eyes scanned through the series of small, black and white photos and let out a shaky breath as her eyes located the photo she had been seeking. A tear fell from one eye, which she quickly wiped away. She gently caressed the page with her fingertips as if she was actually reaching through the page magically to touch the girl in the photo. Her girl.

Cheryl sighed, closed the book, and tossed it aside, not wanting to see anymore. More tears threatened to fall. The redhead sniffled clamped her eyes tight.

Don't cry. Don't cry.

Her self talk did not prevent the floodgates from opening. She fell back onto the bed and cried. Cheryl wanted to get home to the Toni that loves her, not the one in the yearbook who may not even know she exists.

Cheryl's muscles began to ache as the sobs shook her body. The redhead had no idea how long has passed since she started crying. The sun had set, and the room was now being illuminated by a neon sign outside, causing the room to glow a light pink.

A growing ache in her stomach soon became undeniable. She could not remember how long it had been since she had eaten last, and even if she could, the last time she ate was back in the real world. Cheryl could only imagine the last time this body had been blessed with a decent meal.

After forcing herself to get up from the bed, Cheryl ventured out into the living room. She noticed an adjoining kitchen passed the couch and prayed the refrigerator was stocked. The redhead made her way through the trailer, allowing her eyes to wonder for the first time.

The living room had a couch, armchair, an old tube tv, and a makeshift bookcase with an assortment of novels, all of which appeared to be second hand due to their torn covers. The furniture all looked dingy and worn, and one of the couch cousins had a noticeable tear which stuffing was protruding from. There was a tiny table against the back wall with three folding chair sitting around it. Cheryl assumed that was meant to serve as the dining room.

She made a left into the kitchen after passing the long counter coming out from the wall. A gas stove was edged next to the sink, and she thankfully noticed the trailed came equipped with a dishwasher as well. If Cheryl had to be trapped in this nightmare, at least she didn't have to worry about hand washing dishes. Turning to the refrigerator, she noted the coffee pot sitting to its left before grabbing the handle and swinging it open.

The fridge was mostly barren. It's only contents appeared to be an opened 24 pack of Bud Light, a half case of bottled water, ketchup, mustard, and a single red apple. She checked the freezer, hoping there was something in there that would fulfill her hunger. Unfortunately, it was virtually empty as well apart from two ice trays and an expired bag of frozen peas.

Cheryl reopened the fridge and grabbed the apple. She took a bite and was thankful to find it was still crisp and refreshing. She had feared the inside would be rotten, which would be fitting with her current predicament. It didn't take the redhead long to eat it in its entirety due to her hunger. She tossed the core into the trash can next to the refrigerator, wishing there had been more. Her stomach was still as hungry, if possible even more so now that it had been minorly indulged.

There has to be something around here somewhere.

She was about to start searching through the kitchen cabinets when a loud noise outside startled her, pulling her from her thoughts.

"Stupid fucking trashcan," she heard a male voice say.

Panic set in as she realized the man was heading towards the trailer. Cheryl ran to the front door and flipped the lock on the handle before unsteadily walking backwards, her eyes remaining fixed on the door.

"Why is this locked? The fuck are my keys? I'm too drunk for this shit," the voice grumbled as the doorknob rattled. She heard a key turn before the door is opened, and a man with salt and pepper hair walked into the trailer.

Her eyes widened in shock as a gasp escaped her throat. "D-daddy?"

The man scoffed before tossing his keys on the kitchen counter before taking a drink from the beer can in his hand. "What did you get this time? I keep telling you to stop buying from that kid. I don't care how cheap his crap is."

Cheryl's breathing became ragged as she felt an anxiety attack taking hold. "How… how are you here?"

"Shit," he sat down his beer can and walked over to her, concern painted across his face. "Breathe, Cheryl. It's just me."

"You… no, none of this is real!" The redhead scrunched her eyes in hopes to escape the nightmare.

He's not real. He's dead. He hung himself. He cannot be here. You can not be here. None of this is real. Wake up, Cheryl!

"Come on, let's sit down." She flinched as his hands gripped her shoulders, but Cheryl allowed herself to be ushered to the couch. The pair took a seat, and he began to rub circles on her back. "Sorry, I don't have all my faculties right now, but I'm trying. Just breathe."

"You can't be here," she muttered as her body rocked back and forth. "You can't be here."

"Hey, hey," he urged. "Look at me."

The redhead violently shook her head, "No. I can't. You're a monster."

"That monster is behind bars where he belongs. I know you're having a hell of a trip right now, but believe me, he cannot hurt you. Neither of them can."

She opened her eyes and turned her head to meet his worried gaze. "What?"

"It's me, Uncle Claude. Your dad is where he has been for the last four years, locked behind steel bars upstate."

"Uncle Claudius?"

"Okay, as much as I hate that name, at least you know who I am," he laughed slightly as he continued rubbing her back. "Think you can calm down a bit now? Maybe drink some water?"

Cheryl nodded wordlessly.

"I'll grab one for myself too. Sober up a bit," he added as he got up from the couch. "You hungry? May help to get some food in your stomach."

"I… I checked the fridge already," she replied.

"Yeah," Claude scratched his head as he walked to the kitchen. "I need to go shopping. Money's tight this month… again. We do have noodles though. Chicken, beef, or if you are wanting somethin' special I think we have a shrimp left."

"Any-anything's fine. Thank you."

He returned a moment later and handed her a cold bottle from the fridge. "Here, drink this. Water's boilin' on the stove."

"Thanks," she responded weakly as she accepted the bottle.

As if water will somehow fix this.

Cheryl unscrewed the cap and downed half of the bottle. It was taking every ounce of her strength to not break down. The longer she was in this nightmare of a reality the more the situation became clear. She was stuck here, wherever here was, with no idea how to get home.

True to his word, Jughead returned later that evening. Cheryl was laying on her bed, not that she considered it hers, when she heard voices conversing from the living room.

"How's she doing?"

"Better, I think," Claude answered. "Never seen her like that before. She thought I was Cliff."

"Damn. Well, I'm gonna go check on her."

"Thanks, Jug. I don't know what that girl would do without you."

Jughead stuck his head through the opened door, "Knock knock. Feeling better?"

"No," she replied honestly. "I'm pretty sure I've died, and this is hell."

He laughed, "At least you're sounding like yourself. That's a good sign."

She scoffed and rolled her eyes. "What do you want, Jones?"

"Can't I check on my best friend?"

His best friend? I cannot be best friends with the hobo. This really is hell.

When he received no answer from the redhead, he walked over and sat down on the bed next to her and pulled a bag from his pocket. "Here, one eighth grade A indica, medical grade. I know money sucks for you guys right now so this is on me. I better not hear you buying from Tank or one of his boys again. I don't want another scare like earlier. Alright?"

"What do you expect me to do with that?"

Jughead raised an eyebrow at her, "Judging by the pipe and lighter on your nightstand I think you already know."

She tilted her head to see what he was referring to. Sure enough, there was a teal glass pipe, a black BIC lighter, and a metallic grinder next to the lamp on the bedside table. An opened carton of cigarettes was also present, explaining the smell she noticed when she woke up earlier.

Well that explains why everyone thought I was high.

"So this is my life?"

He rolled his eyes and smirked, "As long as I've known you."

"I just want to wake up," Cheryl groaned as she rolled away from him onto her side.

Confused, he asked, "Are you talking in your sleep now or…?"

She shook her head as tears fell from her eyes onto the black pillowcase beneath her head. "Nevermind, you wouldn't believe me."

"Try me."

"I'll sounds crazy. But… can you… can you just tell me about myself?" she asked, still refusing to look at the boy sitting behind her.

"Uh… sure, I guess. You don't know yourself by now?"

"Forget it."

"No, hey. Cheryl, turn over," he prompted. "Let's talk. I'll tell you whatever you want to know okay?"

The redhead sniffled as she nodded against the pillow before sitting up and turning to face him. She reached up to wipe the moisture from her cheeks and gave a small smile. "Tell me everything you know, especially if I should know it already. Pretend I have severe amnesia or something."

"You're scaring me, Cher. The hell did you take? Was it pills? That's not like you." Jughead grabbed his beanie and pulled it from his head before running a hand through his hair.

"I'm stone cold sober, okay? Can you help me or not?" she snapped through gritted teeth.

He fisted the beanie in his hands and exhaled deeply. "Okay. I'm going to pretend something isn't seriously wrong that you don't want to tell me about, even though we've had no secrets since we were four. Where do you want me to start?"

"The beginning?"

He started by telling her the story of how they met, in a daycare run by one of the Serpent matriarchs. From the moment he met Cheryl, the two of them had been inseparable. He had been close to Jason as well, but her extroverted twin had found his own group of friends. Cheryl had been the shy one, keeping to herself, and as Jughead put it, "Us loners had to stick together I guess."

On the days Jughead would accompany his dad to his job at Andrews Construction, Cheryl often sat in a corner alone busying herself with a drawing pad while the other children played. Jason would try to get her involved with whatever game he was playing, but she always refused. He would eventually give up and run off with his two best friends, Noah and Frankie, leaving Cheryl to her own devices. Her favorite days were the ones Jughead was there because the raven haired boy would simply sit with her in silence so she wasn't alone.

It had been hard on Cheryl when Jughead went to Riverdale Elementary while she had to go to one on the Southside. Jason did his best to look out for her, but he had always been busy with sports.

Jughead didn't feel comfortable telling her what happened to Jason. He didn't seem to be willing to discuss anything having to do with her family at all. Whenever she tried to ask he shut down and tried changing the subject. Whatever had happened was bad, and it didn't take Cheryl long to realize she was without her dear brother in this reality as well.

"Well?"

With tears in her eyes, she answered, "Well what?"

"I don't know. Did that help? Do you know who you are again?"

"No, but it's not like that's what I was expecting to happen. Thank you, Jughead, for telling me all of that."

His brow furrowed, "I just wish I knew how to help you with whatever it is you're going through. God knows you've helped me through enough shit that I owe it to you to return the favor."

"If I thought there was anything you could do, I'd tell you," she admitted.

Jughead reached over to her nightstand and grabbed the pipe, "How about we smoke a bowl of that green I bought you and see how you feel?"

The redhead shrugged, "Guess it couldn't hurt?"

"That's my girl," he bumped shoulders with her. "Worst case you'll get a good night's sleep for school tomorrow."

Anxiety began to return to her, but she did her best to hide it from Jughead, who was busying himself with the grinder. Going to school meant only one thing to Cheryl, something that both excited and terrified her.

Toni.