CARMEN, riverdale.

monstrosity | ✔️

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— MONSTROSITY

       BANG! BANG!

       CARMEN COWERED in her place, tears filling her eyes as the pain stabbed at her chest. She was wearing a bulletproof vest, but it did nothing to stop that phantom pain from the bullets. It just stopped the bullets from actually penetrating her body.

       At least it wasn't in the head. While it didn't shed blood, she would be sure she'd have bruises later — even just for the sake of another chance at living... if she even made it out alive.

The teen couldn't decipher the difference between the pain in her torso or her wrist — or even everywhere on her damn body, which also bled, just as bad as her face.

The mangled face — which she was responsible for — of the body that laid among a bed of broken shards was still facing her. Their eyes looked like they were staring her down, beating her down piece by piece, mistake by mistake. She knew they would haunt her dreams for a long time.

If she even had that privilege.

Her name was being called, she felt her shoulders shake violently as if something unseen was desperately attempting to get her attention. The room grew colder, as if she was already dead.

She could see the glint of the knife above her, tears flooding and grabbed onto the wielder's hand.

        She thought she had already accepted the prospect of death — but no. She didn't make it far only to end up this way, she didn't give up her childhood too soon only for everything to deem that her life was done for.

        Carmen sobbed, letting out a scream as the inevitable dares to come closer until she's staring at it in the eye and her arms are straining.

       "Carmen, wake up," She couldn't even see who the hell that voice belonged to, but an impulse caused her to sob out her father's name. "Carmen!"

       Everything stopped, freezing as the sinister images faded from reality. With a deafening scream, Carmen shot up, trembling so hard as she sobbed.

       "Make it stop, please, just make it stop!" The sight of the her like this, so broken, angered him because he rarely ever see her at her breaking point and he ached to bring hell down on whatever — whomever caused her to be like this. He pulled his daughter in a tight hug, never letting go as she sobbed, and cried, and clung to him as if he was the only thing keeping her alive. "I want it to stop! Dad, please!"

       In defeat, she looked up at him and shed another tear at the ugly bruise he sported, beginning on his jaw. "Did — Did I do that?" She whimpers in horror, instantly trying to pull away. Another sob is ripped from her lips.

       "Hey, shh. Baby doll, it's okay, it's not your fault — " He pulls her back — well, attempted to, as he disregards the fact that she just threw one hell of a punch.

       "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry — "

       "No, no, god," He breathes out. "Bubba, it's not your fault."