Jughead's POV

As soon as I walked into the trailer I knew I wasn't there alone. My father was sitting at the table with a Serpent that I didn't recognize. The only thing tagging him as one of us was the leather jacket. He was about the same age as my father, looking gruff and out of form with a long beard and messy brown hair. The creases in his face showed me that he's definitely been through some shit in his life.

"Jug," my father said as I closed the door. "Clayton was just telling me that Penny's trail ended near Greendale."

"What's that mean?" I asked as I approached them.

"What that means," Clayton said, turning in his chair to face me. "Is that it's likely she's long gone. Probably won't come back."

I shake my head. "I don't care about that."

"Think about it, son," FP sighs, "If she's gone, that's good news. You don't need to chase her down-"

"I still want to," I interrupt, raising my hands in frustration. "I will track her into Greendale if I have to!" Just then, my phone rings, interrupting the heated argument. "I'll be right back."

I walk the extremely short distance to the living room and don't even bother to check who's calling before I answer, buying myself some time to think of a good reason to keep tracking Penny.

"Hello?" I say more harshly than I intended.

"Jug?" Betty's voice is a mere whisper and the word was shaky.

"Betty?" I say, lowering my voice. "What's wrong?"

Of course, something must be wrong for her to call me so soon. I had just left her house not one hour ago.

"Someone's here," she whispers in a broken voice. It sounded as though she was fighting tears.

"What do you mean?" I ask, feeling my heart accelerate as I sit down on the sofa. I can feel the inquisitive eyes of my father and his friend on me.

"I can hear someone downstairs…"

By the way she was acting; I knew she didn't mean a family member. My heart beat against my chest as I realized what was happening. I immediately focused on Betty's safety.

"Listen to me," I say softly. "I need you to get in the closet."

"Wha-"

"Get in the closet, Betty." I say as I stand up. "I'm gonna be right there, okay. But I need you to do that for me. Please."

I waited patiently and heard the slight rustling of sheets and her gentle footsteps before I heard the click of the closet being closed.

"What do I do, Jug?" she whispered desperately.

"Just keep the phone on, face down on the floor so there's no glare." I'm thinking quick on my feet at this point. "Scream if they find you. I'm on my way."

"My mom, Jug," she whispers.

"Do not leave the closet," I warn. "I'm gonna keep my phone on. I'll see you soon."

I shove the phone into my pocket and storm to the door.

"Jughead," FP calls before I could exit the trailer. "You mind explaining to me what's going on?"

I turn hesitantly. "Someone broke into Betty's house." I look pointedly at Clayton. "Seems Greendale isn't as far away as we thought, huh."

"What exactly are you going to do?" he asked.

"Me?" I say back sarcastically. "I don't know about you, but I'm going to save my girlfriend." I turn, but pause with my hand on the door. "You might want to consider that. Alice is fast asleep in that deathtrap right now."

That's all I say before slamming the door shut behind me. Before hopping onto the bike I lift my phone. The line is still connected and she hasn't made a sound. She's fine… for now.

On that note, I revved the bike to life and sped away from the trailer.

Betty's POV

Once I was in the closet, I did as I was instructed. I placed the phone face down on the floor and huddled to the corner in-between my clothes and shoes.

The footsteps were becoming louder as they trudged up the stairs. By the gruff and heavy steps, I knew it was a man. I wasn't sure what to do, so again I just dis as I was told. I say there with my eyes shut, holding my breath.

That is, until the footsteps became unbearably loud. I opened my eyes again and wished I hadn't. I saw jean-clad legs and brown boots at my door, just standing… observing.

Then, he took a step forward. I felt a fear-induced hiccup build in my chest. I placed both hands tightly over my mouth to prevent it from escaping.

He was clearly looking for something… or someone.

He walked across my room to the window, where he must have seen that it was locked from the inside. Then, he did the last thing I expect; he bent down and lifted my bed-sheets, peering under it. Could this person be looking for me?

I wanted to move forward and peer through the gaps in my closet door. I wanted to see his face. But my tense muscles and intense fear overrode all else and kept me rooted to the spot.

Finally, he exited the room. But, instead of turning back the way he came, he started walking towards my parent's bedroom.

At this, it seemed my muscles loosened. As carefully as I could, I leaned forward and pushed the closet door open, cringing when it creaked ever so softly. I pulled myself to my feet and took a hesitant step forward.

My fear told me to stay put, but my will to protect my sleeping mother was stronger. However, the self-preservation was still there, although it was masked by panic and urgency.

I should have grabbed something to defend myself with. Should have lifted the lamp off my bedside table or even a clothing hanger from my closet. Instead, I kept taking the tiniest of steps, empty-handed and with a tingling in my spine.

Once I reached the hallway, I had an internal debate. I was already fully out of room. I could either continue down the hall to check on my mother, or run in the opposite direction and escape the house. The second option was much smarter than the first, but the guilt of that decision would surely kill me before this man got the chance.

Then, the decision was made for me. I saw one brown boot at the threshold of my mother's bedroom door, and bulleted in the opposite direction. Something inside me told me I wouldn't make it all the way downstairs, so I took a sharp turn into the bathroom. It was a last minute decision, but I rolled with it.

I closed the door slowly and grabbed the old shower rod, an old steel pole, from the floor near the sink, placing it under the handle and standing it up at an angle, making it impossible to open the door from the outside. It was an old trick I learned in middle school while Polly was on 'no locks' punishments.

I backed away and retreated into the shower, where I settled onto the floor. My heart was pounding and the adrenaline threatened to suffocate me.

Then, I remembered that in my haste I'd left my phone in the closet. How would I get help? I tried to calm myself. Jughead was on his way…

Then, my heart sped up impossibly fast when I realized that Jughead was on his way. Was I leading him into a death trap? Why hadn't I thought this through? Why hadn't I called the police?

As I mulled on this, watching my hot tears hit the floor, I heard the handle on the door being turned. My irrational fear of death was there, despite having locked the door. The shaking of the handle became louder, more rushed. Whoever it was, knew I was in here. Knew someone had come in here and locked the door.

I panicked and the sobs escaped my lips. I knew it was too late to pretend. It was obvious that I was here.

"Who are you?" I called through the tears.

I hugged my knees to my chest as the man started shaking the handle more desperately.

"What do you want?" I called again, my voice cut off by a painful sob.

Then… nothing. I didn't hear anything more. Not banging, or jerking or footsteps.

That worried me.

I'm not sure how long I sat there. It could have been anywhere between five minutes or an hour. Then, I heard a knock on the door.

"Betty?" I heard Jughead say.

My head snapped up. I was still frozen in place, unable to feel the relief I should have felt.

Then, I heard a loud bang against the door as his body collided against it, effectively pushing the pole to the side and opening the door. I'm not sure what it was he saw in my face, but he didn't take it well.

"Shit!" he spat out, racing to my side. He knelt down in front of me and placed both hands on my shoulders. "Are you hurt?"

I could only manage to shake my head.

"What is going on here?" I heard my mother's groggy voice before I saw her standing at the threshold of the bathroom. Then she saw my face. "Betty," she whispered, stepping forward. "What's going on?"

Realizing I was still incapable of speech, Jughead stood up and turned to face her.

"Betty called me, Mrs Cooper," he said slowly. "Someone… someone was in your house."

The look of shock on her face as the words left his mouth indicated that she hadn't been disturbed by the mystery man.

That was good. It meant he want trying to hurt her. I was both relieved and jolted by this realization. If he hadn't meant to hurt her…

Jughead realized it the same time I did and instinctively moved to kneel down again.

"Betty," he whispered, peering into my eyes. "Did you see who it was?"

Before I could attempt to open my mouth, I heard footsteps on the stairs again. My heart stopped for a moment before my mother spoke.

"Ah, FP," she griped. "You've come to our rescue, I see. Well, once again, the Cooper women are at the wrong end of a knife."

"Always good to see you,Alice," FP's familiar voice flooded into the bathroom. Then, more quietly, "I'm glad you're okay." I see him step into the bathroom and walk up to his son. "Both of you."

I still hadn't said a word and I now had three pairs of intense eyes focused on my face. I felt my lips quiver, then I felt Jughead's strong arms envelop me.

"We're gonna figure this out, Betty, I promise," he whispered into my ear. "I'm here. I promise you, I won't let anything happen to you. I promise."

His words fell on deaf ears because, at that moment, my mind was somewhere else entirely. Lost in space and time as I digested what had just happened. I knew I'd never be okay again.