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bad omen | C20 | sweet pea

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summary: what happens when a hot mess orphan running from her past ends up breaking her hard exterior for a southside gangster, and falls in love? disaster. that’s what happens. warnings: mild angst, mentions of death, mentions of alcohol abuse, guns included words: 9k+ A/N: I am so, so, so sorry that it’s taken literally half a fucking year for me to update this story. I hit such a huge wall in the summer and I’ve been struggling to recover mentally, and so writing of any sort has just been .. hard in general. I promise you, chapter 21 in underway and will be posted before Christmas (I hope!), if not before the year is over for sure. Thank you so much for sticking with me during the hiatus, I lava you all so mucha and hope you enjoy! Special thanks to @niteshines-on @chlobenet and @weaselbyyy for constantly encouraging me and providing me with inspo to help get the chapter written; I truly don’t know what I’d do without ya’ll!

as tumblr is still being weird and doing the thing with posts that contain links not showing up in the tag, considering reblogging this if you liked it!

OCTOBER 3RD, 2014

“Who the hell are you?”

“Hi, I’m Yvette Webb, from the New York State Office of Children and Family Services (OCFS). Calliope, right?” I looked down at her extended hand with a raised brow, and then up at her. She had a pleasant smile, but the rest of her face screamed that she was as over this drop-in visit as much as I was. Her brown hair was pulled back and secured with a clip, and despite being in her late forties, she looked no older than thirty and definitely hit the gym.

I already decided that I didn’t like her, and was trying very hard not to make that known.

Byron always said that the OCFS stuck their nose in where they didn’t need to be. Our first run-in with them had been by accident. I had shown up to school with a bruise the size of a baseball on my face one time — because Sabine had accidentally hit me in the face with said baseball — and a man from child services came by the principal's office to talk to me about life at home.

As far as I was concerned, things at home were pretty good. I saw no reason to lie.

I probably should have, though.

What the youth worker failed to remember is the vital point in her being there to begin with — how the bruise really ended up on my face. As soon as the words “daddy and his friend Jim Bean spend a lot of time together” had left my mouth, it was as though she were no longer interested in the rest of my story.

Here I was, five years later, meeting with another youth worker, because I made their jobs harder being the delinquent that I was. And yet, they never let me be.

“I prefer Cal.” I replied stiffly, folding my wet arms across my chest. “Can I help you with something?”

Yvette followed me into the house, ensuring to look around as we went, taking mental notes of anything that may have looked off. I wasn’t surprised by her disappointment when she realized the house owned was nearly immaculate and looked barely lived in. “This isn’t your regular visit,” she replied as she dropped into a seat in our dining room as I returned to the dishes. “Someone reported Byron; we got a call about negligence and child endangerment a few days ago.”

I felt my brows come together, peering over my shoulder at the woman in worry, “Who reported him?”

Yvette’s lips pursed as she shook her head, “You know I’m not allowed to tell you.”

I let the plate slip from my hand back into the water and sighed. It didn’t seem to matter how much I practiced it in the mirror, and these people would never understand.

“Who called?” I persisted.

But they were always finding a way to meddle with our lives. If anything, they disrupted the peace and brought more pain than they did justice. After each visit, Byron was always left feeling particularly sorry for himself and would spend the remainder of the night wondering where exactly he went wrong, making false promises to do better. To be better.

“It was an anonymous phone call.” Her tone was tired as she let her body sink further into the seat.

Unable to form a coherent sentence, we remained in that silence while I finished the rest of the dishes. Once I had cleared the sink and dried my arms, I turned to Yvette and noticed the series of notes she had spread over the table. It didn’t take my mind very long to play catch up, quickly coming to the realization that each folder had been marked with a date, no doubt each one being an incident report. About me. About Byron.

There were very few people that believed my father was capable of taking care of me. Yvette didn’t happen to be one of those people, despite obvious circumstances indicating that she probably should have had the state take custody of me. In her head, I was probably better off with Byron than I was in some of the group homes.

She checked in regularly, always had me come in to do a physical and make sure I was looked after and in good health. When seasons changed, she either gave me a gift card or brought me clothing. As much as I absolutely dreaded each and every visit, I knew I could go to her with anything, and she wouldn’t freak out on me.

She hadn’t been around that long, but she had lasted longer than the others. So they kept sending her and assigned her to my case. We coexisted peacefully, and when the time came, I knew she had already figured out what was best for me.

2:13 AM, PRESENT DAY

I sat on the cold concrete floor with my back pressed to the wall and legs splayed out in front of me. The numbers had dwindled as the night crept on, Penny remained with the careful supervision of three remaining Ghoulies. I didn’t recognize any of them from Southside’s halls; however, one man, in particular, stuck out.

His hair was long but coiled into messy curls. The stubble on his upper lip and face made him look older, and his eyes had been smeared with black eyeliner. Without the ridiculous trenchcoat or the permanent snarl he wore on his face, he would have been quite attractive under different circumstances.

It was just past two in the morning, meaning we had been sitting in near silence for quite some time. In spite of the early hour, my body was awake and alert, full of energy I didn’t think would exist given that I had been up for the better part of the last forty-eight hours. But with each passing minute, I was finding it harder to not to worry, and more often than not had to repeat a mantra in my head to remind myself to breathe — inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale.

I played with the zipper on my jacket in an effort to keep myself distracted, focusing on the individual teeth, running my nail along the indentations. The sun would be rising within the hour, leaving Sweet Pea very little time left before my former classmates played doctor, and held me down while Eddie gauged one of my eyeballs from the socket. There was a small part of me that felt it could have been an empty threat, but given the Eddie-Pea track record and long-standing feud, but I didn’t put it past Ed to be satisfied taking his frustrations out on me.

“You know he’s gonna come back.” Penny drawled lazily, seeming unamused with my current anxious state.

I wanted to snap back and mutter something about it being none of her business, but it was every bit of her business, and I was trying to stay on her good side. I had rationalized that if Sweet Pea had gone through the trouble to keep me from knowing about her, there was a good reason, and maybe the fear he had shown should be enough for me to take her threats a little more seriously. So, I remained quiet, trying not to draw attention to myself.

I was still pissed at him and didn’t want to believe he was right, but if anyone in Riverdale knew trouble, I was sure it was him.

Penny still watched me, again drinking me in as though I changed with every breath. “Take a picture.” I sneered.

She shook her hair away from her face as she leaned forward, “I’m trying to figure out why you ended up with Nate. Don’t get me wrong, he’s not all bad, and I don’t completely hate him, but you?”

“What about me?”

“If I didn’t already know the in and outs of who you were, I’d have assumed you were a Northsider, which is red flag number one.” I removed my eyes from hers, staring down at the dirt on the heels of my boots instead. “I just don’t get it — I mean, I get it. Look at you,” she gestured to me with a snort, “you’re a solid ten, honey, but I just don’t understand why it had to be you.”

I wasn’t sure if she expected me to know the answer to her questions. Fuck, I hardly knew if I believed him when he said he loved me. I had always felt insecure about not knowing if he was as into this, and as into me as I was with him. I had watched his anger shift from one person to the next in a mere matter of ten short minutes; naturally, I assumed the same was plausible when it came to his feelings for me. “What would you like me to say?”

I wondered about the way she looked at me then, leaning forward with her movements, the rise to my feet slow and cautious. She took a step forward with her eyes narrowed and mouth pointed, the challenge in her light hues sparking some animalistic instinct within me, “You’re a sad, broken girl from a sad, broken home,” she began tauntingly, stopping a mere six inches from my body to smile as she continued, “You were raised by a drunk, you’ve got next to no life skills by the looks of it, and I don’t have much faith you’re any more good for him than he is for you.”

I tried not to be too offended by her words, no matter how much they stung or how much truth there was to them and turned away from her. “Once you get past the jackets and tattoos, we’re all the same. Everyone’s got skeletons in their closet.” I repeated the same words Sweet Pea had said once to me before, moving around her frame to take her seat.

“Especially you,” she added, “when Nate first came to me with your sob story, I thought for sure he was just wasting my time, but then again, he has spent so much time trying to stay away from me … figured I could finally have my fun.”

“You turned him into a drug mule,” I retorted with an eye roll.

“He had to pay his dues like everyone else, since he couldn’t afford to pay in cash. I’m a very reasonable woman, Callie.”

I lifted my brows in slight disbelief, “Sounds like it.”

The silence fell between us again, leaving her to sigh indignantly and turn her attention away from me. She glanced down at the phone she held in her hand, then pointed to where I sat, “Watch her, I’ll be back.” she barked to the curly-haired man, who nodded once curtly.

I wasn’t really comfortable being left alone with strangers — and definitely not these strangers. Their hair fell in thick strands, leather embroidered with steel studs and jewels. The three males turned their gazes to me, none of them saying anything after her departure, but they seemed to relax when they realized I showed no intentions of moving.

What had started out as an attempt to save my best friend had quickly turned into a horrible disaster. I was thinking about how fast dawn was approaching — we all had class in the morning, and I had very little hope that I would get any sleep before my alarm went off. I had been stuck in the basement for hours, and time was running out. With each passing minute, my anxiety reverberated my every organ and bone, leaving me feeling cold and on edge.

I thought about what Teddy said, and regretted not having told him at the very least where we’d be going. Just in case I didn’t make it home, in case none of us did. That thought suddenly felt very real, and with it in mind, I slowly lifted my eyes from the dusty floor to where the three Ghoulies sat. None of them looked any bigger than Sweet Pea or Jughead, and only one of them seemed to have the same muscular tone Fogarty did. Aside from that, the more I analyzed them, the less scary they appeared.

That’s assuming they’re not packing heat, I thought. There’s no chance in hell I’d be getting out of here alive if they were. I could run, and I could run fast, but I was sure I couldn’t run faster scared than they could angry. I lifted my eyes to where they stood once more, picking apart pieces of the puzzle, trying to decipher a way out of this mess.

There weren’t very many exits to the building, none that were open or easily accessible, anyway. I wasn’t sure where Penny and the others were coming in and out of, but it sure seemed quicker than the way we had originally came in.

I had learned at a young age not to have such high expectations of people, especially those you stupidly handed your life to. I believed that Sweet Pea was doing what he could to get back here and even the debt. But I also knew there was a possibility that didn’t happen, and I wasn’t sure he had a Plan B in mind, so I would have to.

When Penny returned, she looked to where I sat as lifted her hands in a sort of ‘standing’ gesture. I followed suit, rising to my feet, bracing myself for her next words.

FEBRUARY 11TH, 2016

I walked in through the front door of our two-story home on Nottingham Avenue. It wasn’t unlike any other Friday evening; I was getting in late from dinner with Sabine and her parents, just barely taking notice of the television that still droned on from the living room. This usually meant that Byron had retired for the night, and was already passed out on the couch.

I didn’t bother to look up at him as I passed into the kitchen.

It was my retreat upstairs that made me pause. Something was .. different. And the ominous feeling pulled on a thread in the rear of my mind, and that lingering sensation made my skin crawl. Just go check on him, I thought indignantly, which was followed by a loud sigh, returning down the stairs once I had changed into pajamas for the night.

I stopped at the edge of the carpet, noting the dark stain growing and the pungent smell that hit me like a brick wall. I retched for a moment, holding a hand to my nose to stop the burning sensation as I stepped forward to smack the back of his head. “Bedtime, c’mon,” I growled, reaching over his frame for the remote to shut the television off. There was no grumble in response, no huff in petulance. I nudged him again, “Seriously, I’m not pulling you up the stairs again, let’s go.”

If there was any movement in his chest, it was very faint. For nearly thirty seconds I stood in silence, watching his body so closely, counting the seconds in my head. At the time, I didn’t think to put my hands on him to check for a pulse.

I refused to believe what my mind was telling me.

“Byron,” my voice was weak. “Byron!” I tried again, this time placing my hands on his shoulder to roughly shove him deeper into the cushion beneath him.

.No response. No grunt. No snore.

No, no, no, no -

“D-Dad? Dad, seriously, this isn’t funny!” I hated hearing it, the whine my voice picked up in my moments of vulnerability and weakness. I hated how desperate I sounded, and even worse than that, I hated how I threw myself at him. “Daddy, please!”

I pulled on his flannel until he toppled off the couch, laying him flat on his back. The last time I had been in this situation, the last time I had made this call, the last time he drank himself to this point, I had been too afraid to touch him. By now, it was something I looked for. Standing at the foot of his bed to make sure he was still breathing, trying my hardest to hide every ounce of liquor he didn’t need for the day to prevent it from happening, but my efforts had been futile.

And I hated him with as much of myself as possible.

“You selfish asshole,” I whispered angrily to myself, wiping my nose with the back of my sleeve as I dialed 911 with the other. He couldn’t hear me, and to be frank, at this point I couldn’t care less if he had.

Once the phone began to ring, and the operator’s voice blared through the speaker, I started the compressions. Being as small as I was, I wasn’t optimal for this sort of thing, especially not with someone the size of my father, but I put as much force and strength behind every press.

I was determined to keep his heart beating, whatever was left of it, for as long as I could.

3:49 AM, PRESENT DAY

The snow fell gently from the heavens - my feet carried me forward through the dark forest, holding my hands out in front of me to guide myself. I squinted, trying to make out the shapes of the branches as I moved as quickly as I could while keeping myself upright.

“We’re going to play a little game,” Penny mused coyly, touching the side of my face tenderly. “You’re going to try to navigate your way home - and if your boyfriend doesn’t show up with the money, then something very, very bad is going to happen to you. And I really hope that the cold doesn’t kill you - that would just defeat the purpose of all the trouble I’ve gone through.”

I was exhausted, but I refused to stop. I hadn’t bothered trying to find my way back to the main road - it was unlikely passengers were travelling at this time of night, anyway. Most of the area between Greendale and Riverdale was forest and empty highways.

“It’ll be okay,” I chanted to myself quietly, teeth chattering in response to the cold. I had left my jean jacket in the basement of the factory, foolishly thinking I would be squatting the wait out. I stopped walking for a moment, leaning against a tree as my eyes shut tightly.

As Penny told it, Jude was a good friend of hers that owed her a favour - much like any of her ‘good friends,’ I’d assume. After a couple of phone calls, and a convincing pitch to Dean, Jude was signed over to become my new support worker. He didn’t work for the OCFS, but it required less travel and was far more convenient to have my worker placed here, and so my cousin was willing to make an exception.

Jude was working with Dean to make the necessary preparations to adopt me. He had already gotten legal guardianship of the boys when David left and felt it was only right he have custody of me, too. To make sure we stuck together. I hated the idea less, now that I thought about it. I knew I was going to be here until I graduated. I never planned on moving back to Greendale to begin with — if I had been smart about it, I would have moved back to Pelham with Sabine.

But this was fine. This was preferred, actually. I had a home here, a family to call my own and a place I could hang my personal things — a permanent settlement. It would likely remain there for many years untouched, even after I moved out. From the outside looking in, no one would’ve known we had lived all of our lives separately. Our walls were covered in photographs, our fridge coloured with an array of schoolwork and a growing grocery list.

And when it came to those boys, it was as though no time had passed at all between us. We existed in perfect harmony, balancing each other out, picking up where one slacked to create one well-oiled unit. There was an understanding between the four of us, and we had agreed that what we had now was here to stay; we were in this, together.

I made my peace living on the Southside of Riverdale.

What bothered me was knowing that it wasn’t on my own terms. Regardless of whether or not I felt comfortable staying here until graduation, that hadn’t made the blow any softer, and the blood pumping through my veins was fueled by an odd mixture of frustration, anger, and fear.

If Sweet Pea wanted to keep me here, did that mean he assumed this was permanent?

As awful as I felt for even thinking it, it was something we had yet to discuss. One part because things had been too good to ruin, one part because I was sure he was already aware. Graduation would come, and as far as I was concerned, the plan remained the same. I knew he felt differently about the situation, believed it might turn out in his favour, but I knew I couldn’t guarantee him that.

I nervously glanced down at my phone for the umpteenth time in the last half hour, but there was still no update. The signal out here wasn’t the greatest, and I had already tried sending numerous text messages to Sweet Pea and Sabine. I had grown too anxious to close my eyes and rest for more than two minutes at a time, too worried about when they would get back —

If they came back.

I knew they would. Of course, they would. I couldn’t afford to think otherwise, and if what Penny had told me was true, then Sweet Pea had already gone through so much trouble to keep me here and hold me down to this town, all so that he wouldn’t lose me — so, he would come back, right? I wasn’t too much trouble, and I was worth the inevitable fight. I was worth five-hundred dollars; I was sure of that.

There wasn’t much time left on the clock. I had less than an hour before dawn, leaving me very little time to find someplace to either a) hide until Sweet Pea (or someone other than a Ghoulie) saw me, or b) try to hitchhike back to Riverdale.

Neither of those options sounded very likely. There was a sharp throbbing in all parts of my skull and neck, vision fading in and out with the painful throbbing. Each passing minute felt like I was closing in on certain death. I wasn’t sure what I had to expect when Sweet Pea’s time ran out; I didn’t know if I would be the only one hunted tonight. The lingering thought felt heavy on my shoulders, and I found myself turning my head back over my shoulder in spite of it’s protesting.

What was coming for me?

Keep moving, my conscious demanded, pulling my mind back into focus. Tense and on edge, I continued forward. My knees shook with each step, making the climb over each twister root that much more difficult. It was hard not to give into the part of me that wanted to collapse and give up. I just wanted to rest.

I needed to rest.

But still, my feet kept trudging through the dampness.

“It’s going to be okay.”

I couldn’t make out the shapes of the forest any clearer now than I could two hours ago. My eyes were fighting to stay open, and my body was struggling to stay upright. Find a light. A light meant a home, or at the very least, a person. Help. Any help was better than no help at this point.

I couldn’t have screamed even if I wanted to. My throat was sore and dry, making breathing painful. I wanted to cry. But crying was a weakness, and I couldn’t afford to be weak.

Weakness is gonna get you killed if you don’t start running, I thought grimly.

I hadn’t ventured much further when the shadows in the trees surrounding me began to play tricks on me; I could feel the anxiety crawling along my spine, dipping into the acid in my gut, bile poised and ready to burn my esophagus. The stress of the situation had been hard enough on my body, nevermind the fact that I had quite literally forgotten to ensure I put some substance into it earlier. My stomach was far past cooperating nicely.

I leaned over a twisted root inhaled deeply to keep the spinning at bay. For the most part, I had started to lose feeling in most of my extremities, fingers and toes now null and void due to the dropping weather outside. I hadn’t dressed nearly as well as I could have, but then again, I hadn’t really expected to be set loose on a wild hunt.

Deciding that I had no other options left, I tried my luck with climbing a tree. If I couldn’t outrun them, I could hide until the sun rose. I slowed as I approached a branch that appeared low enough for me to grab onto, and after several minutes of jumping in an effort to get a good grip on the oak, I sighed and scowled.

“You’re about two inches too short for that,” a voice called from behind me; I dropped my arms and turned. Joshua stepped forward with his hands shoved into his jacket pockets, and his smile was promising trouble.

Unsure of who else followed, I folded my arms nervously, “Aren’t you supposed to be with Sweet Pea?”

He nodded once, “I was.”

I swallowed the lump that formed in my throat, “Did he get the money?”

Joshua took a step forward, his green hues carefully studying me. He was closing the space between us until there was nothing more than three inches left, and I was forced to look up at him. He was here to deliver me to my fate, and if not that, then he was here to deliver it to me.

“You don’t really want to do this,” I reasoned, hands held up in surrender. “This isn’t about us, right?”

Joshua paused only momentarily, registering my words slowly enough for me to take another precautionary step backwards. “Penny’s got everyone looking for you,” he replied after some time, resting his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels.

I grimaced. “I know that.”

“There’s no preference on whether or not you’re returned alive,” as the words make it past his lips, my eyes lock onto the object gleaming threateningly in the moonlight, the streaks of silver reflecting dimly. Then, it felt like the soles of my feet had been bolted to the ground, and I was unable to move. Unable to breathe. Unable to think.

“Josh,” I breathed quietly, hoping and praying that the fear bubbling in my stomach wasn’t too evident in the sound of my voice. “Please don’t.”

“Why not?”

Why not? Why did the question sound frivolous? Couldn’t he see the very obvious, very real predicament we had landed ourselves into? Growing up in the suburbs of Pelham, I had assumed if I was going to die at a young age, it was going to be because of an accident. I would never have dreamed that I would be standing face to face with the barrel of a gun that was aimed for the middle of my chest.

“What are you gonna do?” I deadpanned, thinking that maybe, just maybe, if I could prolong the inevitable by distracting him, I could do something to change my outcome. Perhaps an attitude wasn’t the way to go, but he seemed to be listening carefully. “You’re going to shoot me? Right here?” I brought a finger to point to the place above my heart, “Or here?” I moved it a little up towards the hollowed base of my throat. I swallowed the lump that built there. “One pull of that trigger, and it’s all over.”

There was nothing but the sound of the winds blowing through the trees above us; Joshua stood there, unmoving, his face securely set into stone. He had made his choice. “You should know,” he said quietly after a few moments, blinking his eyes. They were softer now, less angry. “You’re the last person I wanted something like this to happen to.”

I let my lips fall into a sad smile, “Then just let me go.” I tried.

“I can’t,” he growled loudly, almost as though it were done in desperation. One thing I knew was certain, and it was that this wasn’t Joshua. Not the Joshua I knew, at least. He wasn’t light-hearted, or carefree. He definitely wasn’t looking at me the way he used to. Not that I personally minded, but that only served as a reminder that he wouldn’t be giving me any mercy. His feet rushed him forward towards me with concentration pulling his brows together as he twisted his lips into a frown. His arms, thick with long muscle and littered in healing (and horribly done) tattoos, wrapped tightly around my torso.

I swung my arms as roughly as I could, trying to rip them from his grasp. “Let me go!” I cried as I dug my heels into the soil to ground myself firmly. Joshua fumbled to adjust his hold on the gun; my elbow knocked his shoulder back, the object in his hand dislodging.

We watched the gun fall to the ground, landing with a distinctive CLINK! I dove headfirst down into the dirt, clawing the earth with my nails in my reach for the weapon. A small part of me felt victorious feeling my fingers lock into place on the trigger, and with that confidence, I hurried to my feet and held it out at arm’s length. It now pointed to his chest. My arm wasn’t steady by any means, leaving me to look fragile, small, and nervous.

Joshua rose to his feet slowly, hands held up.

“Please,” I panted heavily, trying to keep my strength and balance upright. The annoyance that had settled over his shoulders was enough to know my request would surely go unheard. “Just let me go.” There was no mistaking the conviction in my voice. I needed this. Really, this war wasn’t between us. We were collateral damage, and if we kept playing by someone else's rules, we were going to end up burned in the crossfire.

“The only way you’re going anywhere is if you outrun me,” he lamented wearily, lowering himself into a crouch as he prepared to pounce. I moved the gun to the right and pulled the trigger, my eyes squeezing shut in the process.

A bright muzzle flash, the sudden fire jolted me back, a deafening POP! rung in my ears, and all that remained was the acrid smell of burnt gunpowder.

Holy. Shit.

When my eyes finally opened, I brought my stunned gaze to the tip of the barrel, watching the smoke swirl up into the bitter air, mingling with the clouds of breath before it disappeared. Joshua remained frozen in fear, one part because he was still determining if he had been hit, one part because that really just happened.

Did I seriously just do that?

First, I noticed the sweat that had collected on my palms, and how much looser and heavier the metal felt in my fingers. My heart was racing painfully in my chest, and my stomach swayed uneasily. It took my body several heartbeats longer to register that I needed to move. I didn’t bothered watching where I was going, and I wasn’t entirely sure I was heading in the right direction, but truthfully, anywhere but right next to Josh was better.

I had done this run many times before, but I never thought at any point in all my years that I would ever be running for my life. As kids, Sabine and I used to run from boys we had stolen alcohol off of. We ran again when Sabine had slept with the head cheerleader’s boyfriend, and she chased us down the block with a knife in hand —

These were times where I had ran and laughed because I knew that no real danger was waiting for me on the other side. This time, the fear of the unknown drove me forward. The way I saw it, Joshua didn’t owe me any favours. Especially not now. My boyfriend was one of his biggest tormentors, and regardless of how close he was with Donovan, I didn’t see that relationship really stopping him if he were to get his hands on me.

Honestly, I had probably just given him enough reason to want me dead outside of all of that, given that I had just taken a shot at him.

So I ran. Deep inhale, and exhale. My feet throbbed in my now too tight boots, my skin raw and cold with the dropping weather. I kept my grip on the gun tight, shoving it into my pocket as the sounds of Joshua’s following steps behind me were audible again.

It was a sick and twisted game of cat and mouse, and the worst part was knowing that he was definitely going to hurt me if he got his hands on me.

Keep going.

I didn’t stop. When my lungs began to burn, when my legs felt as though they were caving, I pushed myself forward, and didn’t stop until I was certain I was alone, and safely out of harm's way. I rested against a tree, dropping backwards with a sigh, caressing the weapon against my chest.

My ears perked to the sound of screeching tires on the wet road just left of where I had been sitting. I looked up, frantically searching for the break of light in the darkness. Tires meant one of two things:

Someone was actually driving towards Riverdale at this ungodly hour.

The manhunt for me had moved out of the woods and onto the streets.

“Help me!” I screamed as loudly as I could manage, my throat sore and hoarse from the bitter air. I rose to my feet “Anybody, please!” It was bloodcurdling. The desperation that leaked into my plea sounded foreign, not typically an emotion I worried over.

I was moving again, only this time hoping to make it to the break in the trees before the car drove too far ahead and passed me completely. Daylight was coming, and squatting risked my well-being. I needed to get out of town. I didn’t care whose car it was, I didn’t care who was behind the wheel, as long as it featured a one-way trip out of here, I wasn’t too concerned.

I just needed to get back to Riverdale.

When the heels of my boots hit the paved road, I bolted straight into the middle, arms held high above my head as I stared at the oncoming traffic.

For the love of God, please don’t hit me.

5:27 AM

One hour.

One hour was far too long to spend stuck in a small vehicle with a complete stranger. I had done it before, and on any other given day, under different circumstances, I would have been okay. I guess I should have been thankful the driver asked minimal questions, though he did spend a good amount of the time glancing sideways at me out of concern.

It hadn’t taken much convincing, to be frank, he seemed to already have the idea on the tip of his tongue when I finally found my voice again to ask for a lift back into town. I wasn’t sure if he was stopping in, or just driving through, but he had been willing to take me to Sunnyside. The entirety of the ride, I had kept my hands inside my pockets, one hand balled into a tight fist, the other gripping the gun. I hadn’t needed to use it again, and truthfully, I would have preferred it that way.

Now, we sat parked just outside of the entrance; I could see the lights on in the trailer and the Jeep parked against the side, indicating that he had made it home safely. I swallowed the lump in my throat and exhaled, wondering if Sabine’s fate had been any different from mine and if she had made it home safe.

I returned my attention to the driver, and offered him a smile, “Thanks again,” my voice was hoarse, and so it squeaked. I tried not to let him notice how uncomfortable I was as I pushed myself out of the car; he tipped his hat and waited until I passed the sign before he revved his engine and took off towards the main road.

I knew that the sun would be peaking in over the tops of the trailers in a matter of minutes, and with that knowledge in mind, it felt as though the exhaustion of the last twenty-four hours came crashing down in one final drop. My feet dragged through the slick mud, baring no caution as I trudged up the steps to the trailer and barged through the door.

The disco light was swirling in its usual corner. However the couch was occupied by Pea’s unusually large frame; his hair was slick against his forehead from his shower, the lower portion of his torso and legs just barely covered by the throw I purchased for the back of the couch. I grasped the knob, using as much of my remaining strength as possible to slam the door shut behind me.

Sweet Pea’s body jolted awake, his eyes moving in a glare to meet mine before they softened. He looked as tired as I felt, dark circles underlining his eyes. “Hey,” he sat upright, removing the blanket from his frame as he rubbed his eyes, “Sab’s asleep in the room; we’ve been looking for you all night.”

“Have you?” I asked quietly, dropping my jacket onto the floor by the door prior to retreating towards his bedroom, flipping on the lights as I went. I could hear his footsteps following behind me.

“Penny said she had let you go.”

I snorted, turning to throw a look at him over my shoulder, “And you believed her?”

“No. We checked every street in Greendale twice. We only just got home, and that’s only because Sabine looked like she was going to keel over.” he replied, now standing behind me as I ran the hot water in the bathroom sink and filled the porcelain. “I knew something was wrong when she said she let you go. She doesn’t just do that.”

I held a hand up and turned to face him, “Why didn’t you tell me about Penny sooner?”

Sweet Pea took a few moments to gather his thoughts. His jaw flexed as he ground his teeth together; clearly, he was still reluctant to talk about her. “Why didn’t you tell me the truth about Byron?” he fired back after a moment, his head falling to the side as he narrowed his eyes.

Uh-oh. That’s not good. I turned back to the sink full of water and submerged my hands. “What do you mean? I have told you about Byron —”

“About how his drinking is what killed him, and he wasn’t the father of the year?” I could feel my entire frame abruptly halt as the air caught in my throat. Anything I had said to anyone in the town about my father had been very much the same, and that hadn’t been by accident. I then thought to the girl sleeping in the next room over; a new anger bubbled in my veins. “About how he drank from the time your mom died until the day his liver quit? Or about how you spent half of your childhood being called by your mother’s name, and not your own?”

It took a lot of self-restraint and focus, but I brought my eyes up to examine my face in the mirror and wiped the running mascara away with a cloth. I tried not to appear phased by anything he was saying. I didn’t tell him the truth about Byron for many reasons, and as much as I loved him, he wasn’t entitled to know those reasons. “How do you know about any of that?” I asked, voice stoic and hard.

Sweet Pea laughed once dryly from behind me, jerking his thumb towards the hall, “Sab let it slip; though, to be fair, it wasn’t really her fault. She assumed that as your boyfriend, I definitely knew all about your past.” I tried not to pay mind to the way he hung his head, chin tucked into his chest. “You really shouldn’t have kept something like that from me, Cal, I’m supposed to be here for you.”

I nodded in agreement, “You have been, you just didn’t know the details.” I corrected, “And you didn’t need to know the details.”

“And you needed to know about Penny?”

A huff of air flew past my lips, exhaling in annoyance, “Look, I get it. You have a past you don’t want to talk about, obviously, so do I.” he stood behind me, his fingers absently playing with my sides as he listened. “But my past is dead, and your past just moved out of town. Mine isn’t going to be causing any sort of trouble for me.”

“Penny is?”

I shrugged with a nod, “She’s half to blame.”

“Half?” his brow rose in question.

“The other half is you.” I added, looking up at him as I leaned forward to cup my hands in the water.

Confused, he met my gaze in the mirror, “Me? What the fuck did I do?”

I rubbed my face vigorously, blindly reaching for the hand towel hanging above the toilet. “You know what you did.”

“That’s not true.”

I stood upright, “So, you didn’t approach Penny with an offer back in November? Your help in exchange for her help?” I pressed, hands gripping the porcelain as we stared at each other. I hated confrontation, but with the night’s events finally weighing in on me, and exhaustion threatening to remind me that I was only human and could only handle so much, I knew I needed to finish this.

“Doesn’t ring a bell.” he lied.

I glared down at the water circling the drain, “You couldn’t just leave it alone, could you? You had to meddle. And for what? So Dean couldn’t permanently take me from you?”

I could feel the anger radiating off from his frame, but I didn’t take the chance to look at the mirror in fear his eyes might meet mine. There was something about his silence that had always been terrifying; Sweet Pea wasn’t one to keep quiet during his temper tantrums, and not knowing what was going on in his head was nearly equally as frightening as the situation I had just been a part of.

Even still, the restlessness inside me was stirring, and having nothing else left to do with my night other than think about what he had done, I couldn’t stop myself from speaking up again. “All of those nights you didn’t come back to the trailer .. all of the times you told me you had Serpent business .. were you out? Working for her?”

His grip on my hips tightened, and then he nodded once.

I let my head drop back; of all the things I had pictured him doing, this had not been one of them. Because when he told me he wasn’t apart of that, I believed him. Because he promised he was clean and straight, and I wouldn’t have imagined him locking on our middle fingers had that been a lie. “Oh, god.” And now, the utter disbelief of it all had my words tumbling out in between slightly hysterical laughs, “You know, you’d think I wouldn’t be laughing because this is so not a conversation ordinary people have, and I’m so pissed you’ve been lying to me the whole time -”

“Oh, like you didn’t know.”

I deadpanned, glaring at him in the mirror, “That you were moving drugs?” I questioned quietly, voice raising an octave as I continued, words barring no caution, “No, Sweet Pea, I didn’t know that you were your sister’s bitch boy. Or that you were making drop-offs worth thousands of dollars as a favour. You told me you weren’t into that shit.”

Sweet Pea’s jaw hardened as his eyes met mine and he released my hips, “We live in the Southside, Cal, get a grip. So what, I cleared my debt, and then I helped FP out with a few jobs. It’s not like I’m still doing it.”

“You helped FP out?”

“You really need to gain some fucking perspective before you start judging me and my life choices, alright?” he growled, “ We all have dues to pay — it’s not like I didn’t have help with mine.”

This time, it was my jaw that clenched together tightly, nails pinching into the flesh of my palms. “Who, Fogarty?”

“None of your damn business, that’s who.” he snapped.

“So long as I’m stuck here, your business is my business.” I barked back, moving to push past him.

“Stuck here?” he called out from somewhere behind me, followed by the slam of the bathroom door.

I lifted my arms in a shrug, “Yeah. Stuck. Tied.” I began to list, voice beginning to tremble; I stripped the stained sweater from my body and pulled on a clean long sleeve. “Fucking linked to this town until I’m eighteen - because you decided you didn’t want to share me!” I roared at him from over my shoulder.

“I made sure you didn’t get bootfucked back to Greendale!” he bites back. “Since we both know it’s such an outstanding town live in, but by all means, feel free to correct me if I was wrong with assuming you didn’t want to go back.”

I shook my head, grabbing my towel off the back of one of the chairs by the kitchen table to clean my boots off, “It doesn’t matter if you’re right or wrong - you don’t get to fucking make those kinds choices about my life, period. If I was going to end up stuck here, it should have been by state terms —”

“It was —”

“ — as directed by a registered social worker, not my gangbanger boyfriend that’s reluctant to lose me!” I was standing toe to toe with him now, face surely red with the anger that was seeping from my bones. All of the disappointment and confusion was soon replaced with nothing but raw resentment as I stared up at him, studying his features. From what I could see, he felt no remorse. Then, I was sure he didn’t see the issue with what he had done because he didn’t know consequences. He had already rationalized what he had done and excused it.

“Is that such a fucking horrible thing?”

“You don’t get it, okay, I don’t want to fucking be here!” The burning behind my lids had returned, voice quivering again, body seeming frozen in place but alight with anxiety as the words tumbled from my mouth, “Everything here reminds me of something I didn’t have, or something that I did have but don’t anymore. But neither of these things have to do with you, and that has been okay, okay?.”

Behind the mask of the tall, dark, handsome young man I had fallen in love with was someone far more malicious, someone I had once been certain would have never thought to make an appearance in my presence. “You’re not the only person with issues, Calliope. You had a deadbeat alcoholic for a father - so did I.” he shrugs. His shoulders were locked in a square, hands closed into tight fists at his sides, “And, I mean, it doesn’t really sound like he hit you, and you’ve said so yourself you got everything you ever needed, so excuse me if I fail to see where the childhood trauma is supposed to come into play.

His words hit like a hard slap to the face, and I took a step away from him. I was left feeling nothing other than disappointment and disbelief as I stared up at him, “Two seconds ago you were pissed at me because I didn’t tell you the truth about Byron, and now you’re throwing it in my face like it’s nothing?”

Sweet Pea’s hands came up into his hair, tugging on the roots with a frustrated growl, “Do you see what I mean? This is why I never told you about Penny, or introduced you to my family; everything is all fucked up.”

But still, it felt as though I were talking to a wall. And this was all it ever was with us, really. Arguments were never merely disagreements - we were two emotional waves constantly rocking against each other, battling for dominance. The decision wasn’t an easy one, and I was sure by dinner the following day I would have regretted it.

This is for the best.

“No, my best friend didn’t know how to keep her fucking mouth shut for more than ten minutes when she was alone with you and told you my life story before I could.” By now, I had swallowed every bit of nervousness that once resided in me, voice hard and firm as I spoke, “She took that from me. You people just keep taking things from me expecting me to be okay, to just sit back and let the chips fall where they may - fuck that shit! You might think you have it all sorted out, you might think you know who I am, but you have no idea who I am, okay? Not a goddamn clue. You don’t get to tell me it doesn’t sound like I had a traumatic childhood, and I’m getting really sick of playing this whole my-tragedy-is-worse-than-your-tragedy bullshit with everyone.”

Silence looms between us, a thousand unspoken words catapulting back and forth, two different arguments ensuing in each of our minds; I couldn’t find the energy to care anymore. Instead, I sunk into the familiar feeling of loneliness.

Once again, it was me versus the world.

This is for the best.

Uninterested in any further conversation, and knowing we likely wouldn’t be able to reconcile, I took that as my cue to leave. I reached for my bag on the coffee table and started throwing belongings into it.

“C’mon, don’t do this.” Sweet Pea’s voice seemed pleading, yet he made no action to move. “Where are you going?”

“I gotta drive Sab to the terminal.” I replied evenly, feeling more of the anguish and grief alleviate as I carried on.

This is for the best.

He reached for my arm, “Let me drive, we can talk on the way back.”

“I can drive myself.” I assured him.

He shook his head, trying to stand in front of my moving figure, “You’ve been up all night, you’re cold, you’re soaked. You need a shower, and sleep, alright? We can figure out what to do with Sab after class.”

Class. Right. I had forgotten that the beginning of our weeks was starting and that I was expected to be present and in attendance in the next few hours. I thought about having to make myself presentable, forcing myself to focus on the lectures, and internally cringed thinking about how hard that would be.

“Alright.” I lamented after a few moments, deciding that I didn’t want to fight with him anymore. I spent my entire night stewing in my disappointment and anger, and frankly, this wasn’t worth it. “I’m still gonna head home. I need a shower, and clothes,” my feet brought me around his frame and towards the door again, reluctantly pulling my arms through my damp jacket, hand immediately reaching into the pocket to ensure that the gun was still concealed, “I’ll figure Sabine out. Get Dean to come by, or Teddy, bring her to the terminal, do damage control with Em.”

“Calliope,” I stopped when he grabbed me again, forcing my eyes shut. This time, I allowed him to pull me into his chest. His arms barricaded me to him, his warm breath saturating the top of my head as his placed his lips down in a gentle, lingering kiss. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

I didn’t have anything left to say, but his warmth was intoxicating, and his scent was comforting, and even though this moment between us lasted a short thirty seconds, the lingering heat made the ache in my chest feel all that much more powerful, and raw. I nodded against his chest, and wrapped my arms tightly around his waist to squeeze him to me one last time.

“I’ll be okay.”

He was reluctant to let me go, but helped me get into the Jeep. He didn’t return inside of the trailer until I was onto the street and heading towards the main road. The drive from the trailer park to Mooregate wasn’t very long, and in less than twenty minutes, I was begrudgingly carrying my feet up the stairs to the bedroom.

I didn’t bother with my clothing, limbs screaming and crying for relief as I focus my gaze on my heaping pile of blankets folded neatly on my bed. I kicked my jacket under the box spring and collapsed face forward onto the mattress.

It felt as though all of the exhaustion was pressing down on my body, sinking it into the pillow-top inch by inch, as though I were melting into its plush comfort. I had barely ensured my legs were securely covered by my duvet when sleep finally came for me, pulling me under, my mind incessantly chanting:

This is for the best.

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