Secrets & Lies: A Riverdale story

1. Tragic

Charlotte woke with a start, she was panting roughly. She reached up to wipe the dripping sweat from her brow. Today was no different from every other day. Her nightmares were a constant reminder of what she had done. What her and Cason went through that godforsaken night. She reached underneath her sweat soaked pillow to grab her phone to check the time. 4:30, great. Already knowing she wasn't going to back to sleep, Charlotte got out of bed and slipped on her slides and serpent jacket. Walking through the trailer, the brunette jumped at the sight of the dark figure sitting on the couch.

"What are you doing up Charlie?" It was her father, Carson Jackson.

"I just need some fresh air. Promise I won't be out long."

"Nightmares?" he sounded concerned.

She sighed, "Yeah."

"Okay, don't be out long."

"Yes sir." That said, she headed for the door. Outside, she deeply inhaled. Breathing in the trailer park fumes. A mix between gasoline and pine. Instead of staying on their small front porch she walked behind the trailers to a small swing set. Her special place. She's always found comfort in the old swing set. It held major sentimental value, considering it was the last place her mother took her before she left them for another man. Lost in her thoughts, Charlotte didn't notice the tall, dark haired boy, take a seat on the swing next to her. Neither of them spoke, just swung back and forth, enjoying the sound of silence. Five minutes passed when she spoke, "I dreamt about her again." It was a small, weak whisper.

"I know. Me too." What had happened on that night was terrible, reckless, and life altering. When it happened, Charlotte didn't know what to do so she called Sweet Pea. She drug him into her and Cason's mess knowing it wouldn't end well.

Her voice broke, "I'm sorry." Her voice broke mid-sentence.

"Don't apologize. It only makes it harder on yourself." His eyes stayed focused in the ground, much like the girl's next to him.

Her voice remained low and mumbled, "Where did everything go so wrong?"

"Honestly Char, Riverdale lost its shit last fourth of July." Those words haunted her mind. The fourth of July. The day her mother left town for good. The day Jason Blossom was reported dead and the town of Riverdale changed forever. She didn't realize how late it was until he laid a hand on her shoulder, "C'mon its almost five, why don't you skip first period today and get some rest."

She nodded and they began the walk back to their trailers. At her door-step she looked at the large boy standing in front of her. Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around her petite frame, "Stay with me." Her voice was a barely audible murmur.

"Okay."

***

Almost four hours later, Sweet Pea woke up to see Charlotte's head on his chest. She was sound asleep. Something that didn't occur often. Instead of waking her up, he closed his eyes and attempted to go back to sleep, but his racing mind made it almost impossible. So, he gave up on trying to sleep and just laid there in silence, thinking. Thinking about that night she called him. When he found her, clothes soaked in blood, comforting her twin. That night was the first time in his life where he was actually scared. Not scared for himself, but for the girl he called his best friend. He can still remember, still feel her trembling body against his, her cold face and blood soaked clothes against his body. It was almost like everything happened yesterday, not three months ago.

In the midst of his racing thoughts, he almost didn't feel her move against him. He looked from the ceiling to her, seeing her dull grey eyes peering up at him. "Good morning sunshine." He tried to crack a joke but failed miserably. Instead of responding, Charlie mumbled an incoherent phrase and buried her head further in his chest. "C'mon Char, its nine o'clock and I know how much you hate missing school." He tried to coax her from her slumber-like state. After a few moments, she finally decided to sit up in her bed. Groaning, she stretched her arms and legs and crawled out of bed. The soft-ish carpet comforted her cold feet and cushioned her steps to her dresser where her brush lay.