When Charles wakes up, he can tell he is wearing no clothes. He doesn't even need to open his eyes to see that. He can also feel that heavy chains are holding his arms to the wall, and he is practically forced into a standing position. The heavy chains are cold against his skin, and his back is pressed up against uneven jutted stone, cutting cruelly into his skin. His mouth feels dry and he is desperately thirsty. The rank smell of smoke and urine fills the air. He can hear the sharpening of knives, and steady breathing of someone else, and that noise is what makes him open his eyes.

At first, he struggles to focus on the sight before him. His eyes are out of focus, groggy sleep still holding them together, stronger than glue, heavier than lead.

When he does manage to focus, he almost wishes he hadn't.

Betty stands before him. She wears more clothes this time, and Charles is thankful for the small mercy. She walks over to him, and Charles feels relief course through his aching muscles as she lets him down. The chains fall down, weighing his exhausted limbs, and he drops to the floor, slumping against the wall in despair.

"Oh brother. You've been so naughty. Why did you run away? didn't you enjoy our games?" Betty says, the blade in her hand far to close to Charles arm for his liking.

"Of course I didn't enjoy your games. Your a sadistic bitch. Please, if there is any part of you that still cares, let me go. I'm your brother, Betty, can't you see that? And Jughead, Jughead will want you to let me go. Jughead left when you hurt me first. The more you do to me, the further you push him away. Let me go, and perhaps Jughead will return."

Charles knows he is lying. He knows Jughead won't return. He knows that Betty has already gone too far. But Betty doesn't necessarily know that.

"Oh please. Jughead won't return. Any fool can see that. Ut I don't need Jughead. I have his father… his brother… even his sister."

"No. don't hurt her. Please. she's too young, Betty, leave her alone." Charles finds himself begging. He can't let Betty hurt Jellybean any-more than he can get out of here.

"Well, perhaps it is a good thing that I have no interest in women. I only do what I do with my mother for FP's pleasure. And Jughead's, too, I suppose, though he never seemed to get much joy. So no, I won't hurt your sister like that." Betty says, licking the knife in her hand.

Charles breathes in relief.

"Although there are other ways to hurt someone. I could kill her, torture her, right now. she's upstairs. I could bring her down, and I could make her beg for death." Betty says.

"You wouldn't dare." Charles says, feigning a confidence he does not feel.

"Try me." Betty says.

"What would you want me to do? I'll do anything to protect her. Please, don't hurt her." Charles finds himself begging.

"I'm going to hurt you, to make you pay for what you did to Brett and Joan, and for running away. And you are going to submit to me, you will not struggle, you will not protest, you will not try to run, or I will hurt her. And after that, I'm going to fuck you. And you are going to make me cum. And you will find it pleasurable. Understood?" Betty asks.

"Yes. I understand." Charles mutters.

Betty walks over to the fire she has burning and takes a small pot off the fire. She brings it over. She dips something into it, a syringe, and draws some of the burning liquid into it. She walks back to Charles, and squeezes the syringe onto his skin. Burning liquid hits him and he fights back a scream.

"Oil. Simple cheap cooking oil, heated up and poured onto you. A fitting punishment I think." Betty says. Charles whimpers as she brings the knife to his chest and presses down, a thin trickle of red falling down Charles's chest. Charles grits his teeth, not sparing Betty the scream he knows she wants to hear.

Suddenly, there is a loud crash from upstairs.

"Shit. I'd better go check that. Stay here, brother, I'll be back soon."