Betty Cooper, a nineteen-year-old girl, really, nodded her head at the man before as he slipped an envelope of money onto her nightstand. Her eyes flickered to the envelope, knowing full well that she would never let her touch it. Even though Betty did all the work to earn it in the first place. The man - Jason, Jaxon, something - looked at her. "This was fun."

She tightened her robe around herself, sheer lace playing peek-a-boo with her body. She knew that Jason saw more than she was comfortable with; they all saw more than she was ever comfortable with, but it was up to the woman in charge.

"It was fine," Betty said listlessly. She knew better than to anger her madam of the house. And what a pisspoor house it was. Betty was the only worker. Of course, Alice never did want to bring other women into this. She wasn't running a brothel, as she so kindly reminded her before her hand went flying towards her face. Betty could still feel the phantom sting of an open-palm snapping her head in the other direction. She left a handprint on her face that no amount of concealer covered up. But damn her if she didn't try.

Jason or Jaxon stood to his feet, tucking himself back in. "So, can I expect another night like this?"

"Ask the madam," Betty replied, turning on her heel and walking out of the room. She handed Alice the envelope, noting the sharpness to the other woman's eyes. Betty didn't dare say anything to her. She wasn't in the mood to be told how much she had fucked up this transaction.

The man walked out of the room and Betty walked down the stairs to the basement, hearing the tell-tale sound of Alice's heels click-clacking after her.

"Well, he wants another night with you," Alice said, tone sharp. Accusatory almost, but Betty didn't know what the she-devil was accusing her of. Being good at her job?

"Tell me the night you want me to do it and I'll be there," she sighed, working to keep the impatience out of her voice. She didn't want to give more ammunition to Alice's gun.

Alice followed her down to the basement, walking all the way to the closet Betty slept in. There was a tiny cot, with a manacle, and she sat down on it, already locking her ankle in place. Alice tucked the key into her pocket, and then smirked at Betty. "At least you know your place here."

Betty stared at the woman she stopped calling a mother and just waited for the final blow. There was always one on the nights that Alice felt like Betty was surpassing her. Alice spoke up a moment later. "No food for the rest of the week, I think."

Betty grit her teeth but didn't say anything to offset the vile woman. Alice kissed her forehead, causing Betty to shudder, and then she was stepping out of the small closet and locking the door behind her. Betty pulled the threadbare blanket onto her body, hoping for the smallest bit of warmth that wouldn't ever come.

The last thing she thought about before she slipped off into an uneasy sleep was she wouldn't mind a dark savior riding in on his horse. But those were fairy tales she no longer believed in. She had her story written against her skin. She knew her role.

XXX

Betty didn't know how long she drifted into a pitiful sleep, but it was the sound of screaming that woke her up. Alice was screaming. It took her all of two seconds to understand this. Betty tugged on her manacle, trying to reach the wretched woman she still loved deep down. There was silence for a moment, and she strained to hear what was happening, and then there was the unmistakable sound of gunshots going off. Betty flung herself off her bed, not giving a damn about how her ankle popped as the manacle tugged her back. She hid under her bed, a pathetic excuse for a defense, and she prayed to God that she wasn't about to meet the same fate as the woman who harbored her against her will.

There were footsteps coming down the stairs, directly on top of her cupboard. Okay, Harry Potter. She tucked her feet up underneath her, trying to hide herself as much as possible. It wasn't hard. She was a thin slip of a woman, thanks to the micromanaging of the food she ate. Or didn't eat.

"I know she's in here," came a voice.

Betty tucked her elbows into her sides, ready to use them as weapons if need be. If this was some client who was mad at Alice, then he was most likely going to take it out on Betty. That's what they all did.

"Hang on, this door is locked," came another voice, and Betty heard them right outside of her cupboard.

"Joaquin, break the lock," the first voice said.

"You got it, Jug," came who could only be Joaquin.

Betty felt her heart rate accelerate. "Please, oh please, leave me alone."

The lock broke from outside of her door, sounding out into the room and Betty knew she had mere moments before someone - or multiple people - walked in.

She clung onto the cot's leg, praying to God that these men left her alone. Then, a soft voice spoke out, and she was startled to realize it was coming from her. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Please, don't hurt me. I don't have money but I know where Alice keeps it."

"God," came a hollow voice.

"I'm sorry."

"Hey, shh," a man - no more than twenty-one or twenty-two - said, sliding down underneath the cot with her. "We're here to get you out.

"I can sleep with you for free. Just please don't hurt me," Betty said in a trembling voice.

"Sweet Pea, I think you better get down here," the guy said, staring at her in concern.

Sweet Pea?

Another guy, a taller guy, slid onto the ground next to them, and Betty looked at him. "Hey, Betts. Long time."

"Do I know you?" Betty asked, feeling some of the fear drain out of her. It didn't seem like they wanted to hurt her yet.

"You knew me when we were eight, but my name is Sweet Pea. You called me Sweets," the taller replied, squeezing her wrist tenderly. Then he hissed through his teeth. "She's fucking skin and bones, Jughead."

"Yeah, I can tell," he snapped, and Betty shied away from his voice. Jughead grimaced at her apologetically.

"Sorry, I'm working on my temper," he muttered.

"I still don't know what you guys want with me, or why you killed my mother," Betty whispered.

Sweet Pea snorted. "We shot her in the leg. She'll be fine. But we're getting you out of here."

"I'm not going anywhere with you," Betty muttered, feeling her heart clench. Jughead - what kind of name was Jughead - was already unlocking her manacle. When her ankle was free, she tried to crawl away from him as fast as she could but she had damaged her ankle when she flung herself off the cot.

Jughead held his hands up placatingly. "I know you don't remember us. But we're the good guys. Do you really want to hang out here and wait for another man Alice hires?" His tone was oddly gentle, as if he knew what Betty did for a living.

"I can't go with you guys," she murmured. "You need to leave. Leave me locked in here and get out before Alice gains consciousness.

"Jug…," Sweet Pea trailed off, and the shorter one nodded.

"Go ahead," he muttered, looking at Betty apologetically. He laced his fingers with hers.

"What are you doing?" Betty frowned.

Then she felt a pinch in the back of her neck and she knew no more.