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It was the deadliest prom night since Carrie's. Riverdale High had been overrun by the Black Hood, my best friend's dad, and the Gargoyle King, whose true identity was yet to be determined.

We needed answers, starting with how the killer had faked his own death, because the girl who was constantly at my side, earphones playing whatever music would drown out our words, had barely spoken since Prom Night and I feared the only way to fix the woman I loved was to solve the mystery.

I had so far been clinging to Jughead arms as I blasted my playlist on shuffle, following him and his dad as they surveyed the crime scene and been to see Dr Curdle Jr. My thoughts were: alone I was vulnerable; here I had the protection of the sheriff and Jughead. The only other person I would have felt happy with would have been Archie, but hanging around a sweaty gym was not my idea of fun or sanitary, or Betty but she had disappeared into the farm.

Even as we sat in Pop's, my head scanning every person in the room, barely listen to Betty talking to Jughead, I didn't feel safe. My coffe had long gone cold and I had only managed to stomach a few fries before pushing them towards Jughead.
"How's Thia doing?" Betty asked. That was a question I heard. Instead of looking to Jughead, I did another sweep of the diner, checking every person that was wrapped in their own conversations, smiling at each other and going about their lives as if there wasn't a serial killer hiding somewhere in town. Even the parking lot seemed happy.
"I'm worried, but she managed to get an hour before we came to Pop's." He was referring to the hour nap I had managed to get. This nap had been spent on the couch of his home, lay directly on top of him. Jughead hadn't moved throughout that hour, not even to ich slightly, barely moving his chest to breath in fear it would wake me. Sadly, JB opening the door a little louder than normal had snapped me from my slumber in a fit of shakes and screams. The poor girl was nearly in tears fearing what had happened until Jughead calmed me down enough for Jellybean to come over to me.

The next day, Jughead pulled me towards a boy who was reading. He sat down and pulled me onto his lap while I played my music, blasting musical soundtracks and the feel good numbers that lifted the audience into a state of elation. If those numbers could make even the harshest critics rise, then they could give me a sense of comfort.

I kept my eyes pinned on the room, analysing every single person that walked in with a hood on, waiting for them to take it down so I could confirm they weren't the Black Hood. This had happened for the previous two people we had visited. Jughead offered the boy 20 dollars, making a gesture to me. The person always seemed to come around when Jughead showed me the state I was now in because of them, because they handed the envelope to someone. Seeing me, a former Blossom queen now frantically looking around, dark circles under my eyes and hair falling around me in a wavy mess.

I seemed to be in a daze. One moment we were talking to JB, and the next he was running out the door leaving me at his house with strict instructions to stay with his sister.

The poor girl barely knew what to say. She was sitting in the armchair as I had my bow by my side. The last time she had seen me I had a major relapse. Now, she was sitting upright, barley moving from her place.
"You can talk, JB." I offered. In fact, talking helped. Talking filled the silence and allowed me to think of something different. With Jughead trying to solve the mystery, his words tended to be somewhat triggering, but I knew Jellybean wouldn't exactly want to talk about the Black Hood. The girl nodded in understanding before beginning to think through what exactly she could say to me. With a wide eyed look of realisation, she turned to me.
"Can I help you feed Wrym?" She asked. JB had been asking for a while to see the snake, and I had always tried to keep her away, not wanting him to bite her. The snake was defanged, which I hated to think about, but at least she wouldn't die from the venom. So, with a nod, we walked upstairs after I had locked and relocked the door a few times.

Flatline ((Jughead Jones)) 3Où les histoires vivent. Découvrez maintenant