Sweet Pea Imagines

Two | Pop's and Long Nights

Your heart races as the footsteps get louder. Your stomach aches, a reminder of what happened only minutes ago. You had managed to make it to your room and to lock the door in your haze of fear. Your window is open, ready for you to climb through it, but you can't find the one thing you need. It's not in your closet, nor under your bed, and it's definitely not already in your pocket. You've checked there too many times already. It seems that, if you want to make it out of your very own house of horrors, you'll be leaving without your cellphone.

You hear the door handle jiggling behind you and you run for the open window, launching yourself through it as the door splinters behind you. You land in a pile on the grass, barely having time to grab the backpack stashed under the large oak on your property before you're sprinting down the familiar pathway. You hear his slurred shouts from behind you. Slut. Whore. Mistake. You just keep your head down, your feet on the pavement, and your mind closed. You don't need to hear what you already know to be true anyway.

You slow your pace when you make it to the Main Street. For a Friday night it's pretty dead but that doesn't make you any less nervous to be wandering the streets alone. You have no plan, no money, and no idea when it will be safe to re-enter your house. That makes for one hell of a long night but, really, what else is new? It's not like you didn't know that sooner or later you'd have to flee your own house again. You had gotten about a month free from escaping, it was due for a night on the streets about now. It builds your character.

You keep to under the bright lights, away from the ominous stares of the darkened alleyways and sewer grates. You hate the dark. That's another downside to having to leave your house. Every noise you hear makes you jump and look over your shoulder. You're freezing, the cold air preying on your uncovered fingers. You can see your breath coming out in white clouds of fog. You'd bet the few dollars in your pocket that your nose is red too. All in all, you want to sit down right here, on the dirty sidewalk, and cry. You feel like that's all you do anyway; cry.

You pull your backpack from your shoulders, stopping under a street lamp to see what you managed to throw in there before you tossed it outside. A change of clothes, eleven dollars, and an old, dog eared paperback about falling in love on a sunny beach. Everything you need in order to buy yourself a burger at Pop's and a little shelter for the time being. Besides, it's been too long since you last saw that old man. It's about time you payed him a visit. It might do you some good to clear your head.

You sling the bag back over your shoulders and make your way to the other side of town. It's a long walk but you don't mind so much anymore, knowing you're going somewhere with a little life still left in it. It always does feel like you're crossing a barrier when you go from the Southside to the Northside. It feels like going from danger to safety in the blink of an eye. All you have to do is walk from one sidewalk corner to the next and you've stepped over the metaphorical tracks that divide the already small town into two smaller parts.

The red glow of Pop's breaks your train of thought, warming your face under the full moon. You run the last few steps towards safety; towards one of the only places that has ever felt like home. Pop's is like that for a lot of you teenagers in Riverdale; a beacon of hope in what is steadily becoming it's very own horror movie. When you finally get tired of watching your own backs you always find yourselves in the same place, resting under the glow of a faded sign.

The door chimes when you enter but no one really glances to see who stumbled in. Why would they? It's just a tired girl in an even more worn hoodie. No one needs to see that. But, much to your relief, Pop's welcomes it.

"Y/n! I've missed you bud," Pop's quickly finds his way around the counter, pulling you into a much needed hug, "how've ya' been doing? Not so good it looks."