𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗢𝗧𝗜𝗖

6: Nighthawk's Back

Chapter 6: Nighthawk's Back

FP and Alice were in the kitchen when Jughead got out of bed. He didn't sleep the best. Waking nightmares kept him from peaceful rest. Alice handed the man his pain medication and a glass of water. Alice gave a careful glance to FP, who shrugged his shoulders.

"Thanks, Alice." Jughead thanked, handing the empty glass back.

Alice took it without a single thought, went over to place it into the sink and smiled. "No problem, Jughead."

FP couldn't stop thinking about the boy's eyes. He could see bluish bags underneath his eyes. The father in him began to worry something was going on. Jughead clearly wasn't sleeping well. Alice told him Jughead might be suffering from PTSD. As much as FP didn't want to admit it... she might be right. He had signs himself after coming back from the army - - all the things he had seen. The people who were innocent risked their lives to protect their country.

"Jughead, would you like us to show you 'round town?"

Jughead politely shakes his head. "No. I'm good. I think I'll do better on my own, but thanks for the offer." He grabbed his crutches, carefully taking each step at a time as they were under his armpits.

It hurt being rejected like that. FP nodded, understanding while Alice kept her eye on FP. She knew that deep down that struck a nerve in him. They watched as he went through the door, adventuring on his own. They both knew that Jughead was trying to escape their harboring eyes, hovering over him like he's broken. FP felt like he was stung by a lot of bees. He's not used to this kind of rejection.

Alice pulled him close and whispered softly." He didn't mean it."

He shook his head." I know... it just hurt."

"Think on the bright side. You can go into work and let him figure out how to connect the dots on his own. We can't tell him what to do. He needs to find out on his own."

—xxx—

He walked up a small diner, rubbing his stomach. He was starving. He went inside, waited to be told where to sit. The waitress told him he could sit anywhere he'd like. He chose the booth three tables away from the door, stared out the window seeing the pretty autumnal colors on the trees. He thought he'd been here before. It all felt so familiar to him like he belonged.

He looked down at the menu, sipping occasionally at the hot coffee in the cup in front of him. A memory flashed in his brain.

Our story is about a town. A small town. And the people who live in the town. From a distance, it presents itself like so many other small towns all over the world. Safe. Decent. Innocent. Get closer though and you start seeing the shadows underneath. The name of our town is Riverdale.

He's typing on his laptop at one of these very booths in this diner. It looked like to him that he was writing about this town. But why? Apparently because he has been here before? It was finally piecing together... slowly but getting there.

And our story begins, I guess, with what the Blossom twins did this summer... On the fourth of July, just after dawn, Jason and Cheryl Blossom drove out to Sweetwater River for an early morning boat-ride. The next thing we know happened for sure is that Dilton Doiley, who was leading Riverdale's Boy Scout Troop on a bird-watching expedition, came upon Cheryl by the river's edge.

Cheryl Blossom? Jason Blossom? Why did those names sound so familiar? And why was he writing about them?

Riverdale Police dragged Sweetwater river for Jason's body, but never found it. So a week later, the Blossom family buried an empty casket, and Jason's death was ruled an accident.