part 5

                                    

                                          
"Where are your cuts from,"
Y/N POV
I looked at him with tears in my eyes. I looked down and let my tears roll out. I felt arms around me. I cry into his shoulder. "Now. Don't cry. Where are your cuts from Y/N," He said. I looked into his eyes. His eyes sparkling. "I-I cut myself. I-I get bullied. In New York. I got abused. And all that crap." I said. I looked at him I could see the sadness in his eyes. "Wow. I'm sorry Y/N." He said. I hugged him and he kissed my forehead. I stood up and walked to Cheryl. "Hey. You look like you've been crying," She said. I go to walk off but she grabs my wrist. Immediately she let go. She saw the pain in my eyes. "I'm sorry I didn't realise your wrist hurts. You should go get it checked out." She said. I cry even harder. "So sorry Y/N," She said.
                          
Jughead Pov
I looked at Cheryl and she looked at me. She lipsynced 'What is wrong with her?' She asked. "Cheryl. A word," I said. She looked at Toni and Veronica and then at you. You still pouring your eyes out. We walked outside around the corner. No one could hear us. "She had this problem in New York. Where she got bullied and abused." I told her. "That explains the look on her face when she's by her family." She told me. I walk in where they are. "Y/N. Who done you know what to You," I asked wanting, Needing an answer. "Can we talk in private I don't feel comfortable." She said. I nodded. We went around the corner. "My. My dad. My dad done this to my arms," She said. I looked at her and then hugged her. "Your gonna be okay," He says. I trust him. He's my Crush. I nod and walk back to Cheryl. I was looking around. And saw everyone's eyes on me. "Y/N. Tell us about your arms," Archie said.
                          
Y/N pov
"How do you know." She asked. "Jug told me. I told the rest of us," She said. I nod. I respect that he's trying to protect me. "I was a young young girl when my dad started this. I was always a good and perfect child that my dad wanted me to be. I would make him cooked breakfasts when I was 7. If it didn't taste right he will throw the food and plate on the floor. I made him more and more until he got fed up of me. I cleaned the mess on the floor and that's when it started he came over to me whipping my back with his belt. I turned around and apologised for everything. As the years passed if I made one little mistake he would beat me up until I couldn't keep my eyes open. When I was fourteen he kept on telling me to hold out my hand I wouldn't listen. Then I was sleeping that same night. I walk up to blood all over my bed. And a bloody knife and my desk draw. I got up that day and packed I was going to move out until he caught me. He pushed me and then He," I said trying to not to think of the memory. "Did what?" Jughead asked me I look at him frightened and cry. I stop crying. "He. He also,"
                          
Word count: 603
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