Charles Smith stands there. His legs shake beneath him slightly and he will away the tears forming in his eyes. God, he fucked up. So bad.
"You killed Bret! And Joan! Your a serial killer, Charles!" Betty yells, her voice harsh and cold.
"I wanted to protect you. Both of you, he tried to hurt you, Betty, Jug, I just wanted to keep you safe. They were going to hurt you more, I'm sorry, I'm so god damn sorry. Please." Charles knows his voice is weak, he knows it trembles.
He thought he was doing the right thing. He thought that if he could kill their enemies he'd finally show them that he cared about them, and they'd finally care about him. That was all he wanted. To be loved. Growing up in that god forsaken pit of doom, no one had loved him. The sisters of quiet mercy had punished his every action, broken him in, bent him to their will. Most of the time Charles had been drugged out, locked up and alone. Till he met Chic and ran away.
"Protect me? Oh Sweetheart, I don't need protecting. I can look after myself. You say you did this for our family, huh? Well, I think its finnally time I teach you how to be a part of this family. See, we have some special personal things we do. Things that realy show how much a family we are. And I think its time for you to join us, Charles. Jughead, do you agree?" Betty asks, her voice calculating and cruel.
"Betty. Please. Let him be. We can take him to the police or something instead." Jughead says, and he already looks uncomfortable.
"The police? I think, the sheriff will come to us instead, don't you, Juggy? Don't you want to see him punished? I think our brother needs to pay for his crimes. I think, he needs to be taught a lesson." Betty says. Charles feels fear shoot through his body, and waves of nausea crash over him. He does not want this. In fact, he'd rather be stuck with the sisters of quiet mercy than with Betty. Charles cannot help but feel like something is realy very very wrong.
"Juggy. Mum and Daddy should be home soon. I need to go get changed. Handcuff Charles to the table leg please. And strip him off" Betty says. She turns away and heads up the stairs. Jughead chews at his lips awkwardly and then gazes at Charles.
"I can't get you out. Not yet. The locks on the door- I can't leave. I don't agree with this, any of it. It went to far- I don't know how to get them to stop. I'm so sorry." Jughead's voice is trembling, and the sick feeling with in Charles grows.
"I need you to get undressed. Please. don't make this any harder than it alreaady will be. If Betty comes down and you aren't where she asked- we'll both suffer." Jughead begs. Charles gazes down at the floor, dread mingling with fear. Yet the determined part in him, the part in him that does'nt want to die, the little place inside him where he retreats when things get shitty, swells inside him, filling him with a way to survive.
Charles sheds his outift, and lets his brother chain him to the table.
