A/N: Oof here is the second part of my vent story you all liked so much , and again it's pretty much my life, just if my real life friends were the Riverdale characters. Because it's my vent story again, I'm going to say it's still sad so beware. Much love!
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
It had been three months since Y/N had been to Riverdale, the longest three months of her life. Things had not gotten better back at her old house, she refused to call it home, that was Riverdale.
Everything was still the same as how she left it, TJ still stayed in the basement of their house most of the time, drinking bottle after can, after glass of whatever alcohol he had. He only emerged to go to work in the morning, most times hungover, reeking of liquor and cologne, to ask someone to come watch tv with him, or to yell or demean Y/N, her mother, or her grandmother. The things he would say to Y/N once she returned cut deep, deeper than before, but maybe that was only because she had let down so many of her walls in Riverdale, and she wasn't so used to the verbal assault.
'You're not sad, depression is just in your head Y/N, you're the only one making yourself miserable. You can stop it at any time, and I hope you stop soon, you're starting to make everyone else in the house miserable along with you!' He would say those words to her often, always with a slurred tongue, the smell of scotch and beer filling the air. 'I don't care how you feel, because what you feel is wrong! Do you know how you should feel? Happy, because there is nothing wrong with this house, and there is nothing wrong with me, you're just being dramatic, I'm not an ass to you!' was also one of the more tamer things he said to her.
Y/N could take what he threw at her though, she had done it once, and she knew she could get through it again. What really broke her was what he said to her siblings, and to her mother and grandmother. 'I don't need your contract! I know I'm an alcoholic, but I don't need your negativity! I need positive reinforcement, that's how I'm going to get through this, and your stupid fucking contract isn't helping!' he yelled at her younger sister, only fourteen years in age one night. All she had done was write a contract, a polite one to make matters better, begging her biological father to go get help for his addiction, and this was how he responded to her pleas.
