Chapter 1: The tragedy

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It was a dark foggy winter night in Riverdale. Everyone had stopped obsessing about the Black Hood after Mr. Svenson had been shot a month ago, his finger sawed off. Everyone could sleep peacefully again after he was caught. Not Betty. Even in the arms of the love of her life, she couldn't stop thinking about the ridiculousness of people, wondering when will they ever learn. Both her and Jughead found it extremely unlikely that just some school janitor would do something like this. They kept investigating and discovered many many strings leading them to Hal Cooper, her own father.

So Betty was lying awake in her soft white bed under the thick light blue duvet, Jughead's arms snaked around her waist, her head resting on his chest, eyes wide open. She was getting tedious. It was 3 a.m. on a school night and, as always, she had been woken up by the nightmares she couldn't seem to be able to run away from.

That was until her phone buzzed. She moved her head to look at Jughead's face and saw that he was peacefully asleep, mouth opened a bit, quiet snores coming from his throat. She couldn't help herself but to smile and kiss his forehead before sitting up. That girl was endlessly in love. She couldn't imagine sharing her bed or heart with anyone else except for him.

So the 16 year old Elizabeth Cooper sat up in her queen sized bed carefully not to wake her beloved boyfriend up and reached her hand out to grab her phone. She saw many notifications from Instagram, iMessages, Twitter, etc., but the actual buzz she had heard came from the text message she received just a few seconds ago. She couldn't help herself but to hold her breath when she opened the message from an unknown number she had already learned to be afraid of.

Betty. I know you're not asleep. Come to the basement, now, and meet your destiny. You tell anyone, you take anyone with you, they're dead. The same thing happens if you won't show up... BH.

Betty's eyes went wide, a tear dropping from the corner of her left emerald eye. She had already received this message last night. In the morning, there was a dead cat on the front porch. She knew the old black cat, she remembered petting him ever since she was in elementary school. She always sneaked food for him and the cat loved her. Her dad hated the cat.

She placed the phone back on the bedside table, body filled with shock-weaves as she stared at the boy in front of her. She couldn't wake him up, she couldn't not go. She knew she should've just pretended to be asleep and cuddle up with Jughead again, but she was shaking too bad for this and her curiosity got the best of her.

So she slid out from the bed, her bed-warm feet touching the cold floor which sent shivers through his afraid body. She quietly grabbed a pepper spray from her upper shelf and was on her way out of the door when she heard Jughead's quiet voice, making her freeze and tense up even more than she already were.

"Betts?" he asked, his voice still husky, brain in the sleep coma. "Where are you going?"

Betty faked a small smile and turned around, looking at him through the darkness. "I'm going to get some water."

"Did you have nightmares again?" he asks, sitting up carefully. "Do you want me to come with you?" he adds, knowing that even if his girlfriend is the bravest girl he has ever met, she's always been afraid of the dark and usually wakes him up if she needs to go somewhere in the middle of the night.

She breathed out quietly, but a bit sharper than she usually would. She didn't know what was her so called destiny, but she was sure it wasn't any good. So she walked back to the bed and sat on the edge, afraid that she would never see him again or that something happened to him. "It's fine, Juggie, go back to sleep," she said with a soft smile while touching the black hair on his forehead. "I'll probably be up tonight anyways."

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