Them [bughead]

~Her~

"I think you should go home to your mom." Jughead said when she had emptied her coffee cup. Betty looked at him as he sat down beside her and put his arm around her. "I'm not letting you near FP, and your mom probably needs you." Betty placed her head on his chest.
"I don't think I can." She whispered, thinking about Polly.
"If I go with you inside?" Betty nodded. "I love you." She looked up at him.
"I love you too." She kissed him softly and let the electricity overpower her intense fear.

He took her hand and walked up the few steps to the door. She took her keys and opened it. Her heart was beating faster than ever and her head was spinning. She tightened her grip around Jughead's soft hand. With a deep breath she walked inside.
"Mom?" She shouted and her mom appeared from the living room. She looked like Betty felt like. A mess. "Hi." She whispered. She had never in a million years thought she'd see her own mom this...broken.
"What is he doing here?" Alice scoffed and stared at Jughead.
"I was just going. I'm sorry for your loss mrs Cooper." Alice wore her baby blue silk pajamas and her hair was tied in a messy knot.
"As if. You're the reason she's dead."
"Mom!"
"It's true. Without him Polly would've been..."
"That's enough mom." Betty sighed. She turned around to Jughead and kissed him. "I'll see you tomorrow?" He nodded and walked away. She shook her head and slowly walked upstairs.
"Betty?" Betty ignored her mom and kept walking. "Betty!" Betty turned around.
"What?" Her voice was harsh and her tone was hateful.
"I love you." Three simple words. Easy to say. Hard to mean. But when Alice said them she really meant them. And Betty knew she did. Because she, Elizabeth Cooper, haven't heard her mom say those three words since she was six.

Betty hid behind the door with Polly. They both peaked through the keyhole. One at a time.
"What are you doing here?" Their mom asked.
"Alice, I know I shouldn't tell you this but...well we are...after all...friends and Hal and I...we're close." Betty hit Polly's arm and whispered that it was her time to peak.
"Get to the point Tom." Alice said. She didn't sound mad. Just like in a hurry. Betty observed her mom and Tom Keller. One of her best friend's dad. And also the sheriff. He was cool. Betty really liked him. Especially because he sometimes let Betty and Polly ride his police car and once he even put on the siren.
"Alice, Charles...he's dead." Betty watched as mr Keller hugged her mom. And she turned to Polly. Betty didn't know it at the time, but Charles dying changed her mom. From a loving, caring mom, who in many ways was perfect, to a broken, harsh mom, who in even more ways tried to be perfect.
"Polly, who's Charles?" She whispered. Polly shrugged and smiled.
"It's a fun name. I want to name my dog Charles when I'm bigger." She smiled. "My turn." Betty moved aside for her bigger sister and pushed her ear towards the door. Hoping she'd hear what they were saying.
"I...I never should've put him up for adoption." She cried. Adoption was a word she didn't understand. Polly, however, knew exactly what it meant. And she had heard her mom and dad discuss the subject of adoption before. But she never payed much attention to it.
"It's not your fault." Tom comforted her. She took a deep breath.
"I'm sorry." She whispered to him. Betty was curious. Who's Charles? But she knew better than to ask. She heard her mom close the door and walk to the living room. Betty and Polly rushed to the couch and sat down. They pretended to be playing rock, paper, scissors, and sneakily watched as their mom sat down. Her eyes were glossy but she looked...okay...happy almost.
"Come here." She whispered. Both of her daughters hugged her. "I love you." She said and after that, Betty wouldn't hear her say the words until ten years later. When her mom had lost her daughter. She had had three kids. But ten years later only one was left.

The memory popped up and Betty remembered how she had asked her mom who Charles was. And how her mom never answered. And how she eventually got used to the mom who painted herself to become even prettier so that she could hide the broken person she was. Hide all of her invisible scars. The scars she thought everyone saw if she didn't have a facade. The scars that no one saw. The scars that were so deep they sometimes threatened break her down. Betty stopped. Watched as her mom walked back to the living room. Replayed what her mom had just said. Over and over again.