The first thing I did upon my arrival to the Pembrooke was grabbing Veronica's taser that she kept under her pillow while I took Mocha outside. This night had been an absolute mess and I wasn't about to start taking chances now.
My sister was thankfully pulling up as I walked out and instantly looked over at me. "You're not going to believe the night I've had," She complained as she shut the car door. "Let's start with I worked on Halloween, which isn't fun as is. Second, a dangerous patient from Shady Grove escaped, killed a trucker, and ended up in my diner, alone, with me."
"Oh, my God, what?" I turned to face her, quickly checking to make sure there wasn't any immediate damage in sight. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," She huffed as she bent down to pet Mocha before we started heading back inside. "He followed me down into the speakeasy and when he was using a lighter to try and find me, I dumped a bowl of tequila on him before smacking him with a chair and running. I called the cops and fire department as soon as I got up the steps."
I stopped to stare at her. "You lit someone on fire? In the speakeasy? Veronica, that could've burned the whole place down!"
"But it didn't!" She emphasized as she opened the door, "I only have to replace a few things of flooring, but I'll take that over me being dead."
"Fair," I mumbled as I locked the door behind us once we were inside. "How'd Archie's party at the Community Center go?"
Veronica let out a short laugh. "Well, according to what I've gathered, the party itself was fine, but FP was called in when a bunch of thugs decided to post up outside with guns for when the event ended."
"And Archie got it handled?" I asked as I watched Mocha begin to run in circles around the dining table. My sister hummed in confirmation as she moved into her room to change before Archie arrived. My phone lit up on the coffee table, the sight of Jughead's picture and name on the screen making me smile. "Jug! Oh, my God, are you okay? I was so worried."
"I'm good, now that is. Bret really went off his rocker tonight, let me tell you." Jughead went on to explain that Bret, Donna, Jonathan, and Joan all locked him in an empty coffin for hours on end before Mr. Chipping pulled him out to claim it was all a prank and that it was an 'initiation' thing.
"Jughead, are you sure you should stay?" I asked as I flopped on my bed with a huff, Mocha hopping up next to me. "You could've been seriously hurt! Or worse..."
"I'm fine, Sav, honestly. But it's weird, it's like Moose completely vanished. There's not a trace of him anywhere."
"Well, is it possible he actually joined the army?" I suggested as I traced patterns into my blanket. "He was in the RROTC and he may want to follow that path."
"Maybe. I don't know. I placed a couple calls, but I know it was them who chased him out of here. I mean, did they lock me in that coffin because they wanted me out of the way while they terrorized Moose into leaving?" Jughead scoffed. "I don't know. I just hate that they kept me here, away from you."
I laughed slightly, the events of the night still swirling in my head. "It wasn't anything special, bub, honestly. Although, your sister did scare the shit out of me at one point so I give her props for that one."
"Doesn't surprise me."
"I'm sorry I didn't come there," I rushed as I rolled over on my back. "I-I thought about it, a couple of times, but I figured you were busy and I didn't want to interrupt you, but I was wrong, and... I'm sorry, Jug. I should've been there for you."
I could practically feel Jughead's smile through the phone. "You were, babe, in a way. You just don't know it. I just kept thinking about you. You were the only one to keep me from losing hope...and my sanity. I started to think, deep down, if I were to ever really did go missing, that you'd be the one to find me."
I hated the idea more than anything but I nodded slightly to myself before replying,
"I would, Jug. I promise."
--
Spring Break
The reflection in the mirror seemed so familiar yet terrifying. All the glass seemed to show was the pale skin, sunken in eyes, dirty hair, and clothes that hadn't been changed in days. I was staring at my 11-year-old self or what was supposed to be my old self, the one that was struggling to keep her head up and find a reason to keep going; yet, this was me. This was senior-year me, on the path to graduate in a couple of months next to my sister, boyfriend, and best friends.
That's what was supposed to happen, yet here I am, staring at the mirror, wondering if I'll ever leave my apartment again. My dog whined behind the door of the bathroom, his paws scratching the wood for attention. I had been sitting on the tile floor for a good hour or two now, my tailbone aching with every second, but I couldn't find it in me to move. It seemed pointless.
I sniffled, my sleeve covered hands moving to wipe my eyes for the countless time in the past few days. This was exhausting. Living, breathing. I was tired. For the first time in the seven years since I had been saved from my father, I was giving up hope.
Jughead was gone. And there was no bringing him back.
--