Aberration ≫ Jarchie

T H I R T Y - T H R E E

Trigger warning: physical abuse.

Fourteen Years Old ❣︎ May

FP just lost a bet.

He never loses a bet.

He's angry, infuriated really, and the alcohol flowing through his veins starts to give him the courage to express that anger on whatever or whomever he wants.

People practically part ways in the midnight stricken streets for the angry man. His jaw is set in anger, his fists are clenched unbelievably tight, and his broad stride sends ripples into the ground with the force of his steps. Everyone who witnesses the angry man's trip down the block fear for whoever has to deal with that.

They unknowingly fear for Jughead.

They unknowingly fear for the raven haired beauty who is sleeping soundly in his bed, about to experience a rude awakening.

In no time flat, FP is at the front of his trailer, wrestling with his keys to get them to fit into the blurry lock that seems to be playing tricks on him. A string of curses flow out of his mouth before he finally gets the silly key to fit in the lock, slamming the door open with such force that a vase knocks over on the other side of the room.

Jughead's eyes snap open with terror at the sound of glass shattering, unconsciously cuddling up into his blanket at the intrusion.

In under five seconds, his bedroom door busts open, and there his dad stands breathing heavy with a dazed look in his eye.

"Get up!" He yells, his voice raspy with alcohol and his volume heightened with adrenaline.

The younger jumps, starting to shake with fear before getting out of his bed.

"Yes?" Jughead almost whispers, staring at the ground in complete horror. He's scared for his life, and he's never ever been this scared before. He's never been a coward, he's never felt so helpless, he's never felt so small.

"Come here." His dad seethes between his teeth. Jughead inches forward, staring up at his father wide eyed.

"What did I-" Jughead begins to ask quietly, but is interrupted.

He's interrupted by a harsh slap to the face, leaving his cheek red with a lingering sting from the brute force of it all. He stumbles back, holding his hand to his cheek in shock.

"Don't ask me stupid questions." FP grumbles, but the truth is, he doesn't know what Jughead did himself. He's not thinking clearly at all, and the only thing he knows is that he's mad, and it felt good to take it out on the boy.

He grabs Jughead's wrist roughly, twisting it and earning a cry of pain from the victim.

"Let's go." FP pulls Jughead along, the latter drawing blood from biting his lip so hard, trying to keep in the yelp in pain he so desperately wants to release, but refuses to.

He pulls him outside of the trailer, pushing the boy roughly into the dirt, looking at the hazy image of the boy in front of him. Jughead keeps his eyes on the ground, his wrist aching and throbbing as his knees pulse with pain from landing so hard.