Chapter Text
How are your dolls.
Penelope Blossom's words were like daggers through Betty Cooper's heart.
Dolls. She was nothing more than a doll. A plaything in sixteen-year-old Cheryl Blossom's collection. But she wasn’t alone. Her best friends were with her; Archie, Jughead and Veronica. Betty felt like screaming. Her throat felt like it was in on fire. She felt Jughead and Archie tense against her.
They were dolls. Betty felt fear clench her gut. She had dolls at home. They weren’t real, they were just bits of plastic. Plastic that she played with. Twisting their limbs, dressing them up and cutting all their hair off. Dolls were toys. Betty was a toy. She and the others were Cheryl’s toys.
The boy’s tried to stay frozen, stay quiet. But the intensity of the situation was killing her. Killing them. Betty felt like she had been sucked into a vacuum. The silence was overbearing. She allowed herself a single breath of air just as Cheryl Blossom answered her mother; 'They're okay.' She said, her tone strained, voice tight. 'I like to check up on them every day to see how they are.’
Penelope Blossom hummed in acknowledgment, and Betty inwardly cringed when there was the delicate sound of footsteps making their way over to her. They stopped directly in front of her, and Betty had to suppress the urge to cry out. Her eyes stung with tears, but she squeezed them so tightly there was a visual explosion in front of her eyelids that made her dizzy.
Betty replayed Cheryl's voice in her head; Don't move, don't blink. Don't flinch.
'It's truly amazing how much youth and beauty has been trapped inside of them.' The woman murmured. Betty felt the woman's claw-like fingernails suddenly scathing her cheeks, and she had to bite down on her lip to stop herself crying out. She could feel sweat beading on her forehead.
'Who's your favourite?' Penelope asked. She continued to rake her fingernails down Betty's cheek, her fingers trailing over Betty's lips. But Betty was powerless. She couldn't move. She couldn't fight back. She could only sit there, a child trapped in a teenager's body.
'Archie.' Cheryl startled her when she answered. 'He's special.' The girl sighed. ‘
'The Andrews boy?' Cheryl’s mother chuckled darkly. ‘Cheryl, he’s nothing special. His freckles are a big let-down. Though, hmm. That startling red hair really does suit him. Perhaps you’re right,’ she murmured. Betty sensed movement as the woman moved onto one of the others. She still felt the violation of Penelope Blossom's fingers on her cheeks, sharp fingernails scathing her flesh.
'I've always been a fan of Jughead Jones.' Penelope said, almost dreamily. Betty felt bile rise at the back of her throat. Jughead was trembling. Well, all three of them were. Penelope Blossom failed to notice the little jittery movements they were making, how the three of them moved as an individual shaking mess. ‘I strictly remember having him brown eyes. They are his only flaw.’
‘He’s a sixteen year old boy, mother.’ Cheryl muttered. ‘You can’t expect him to be a model.’
Penelope chuckled. ‘Oh, but he is!’ she purred;
'His jaw is chiselled to perfection. Penelope sighed. 'It's strange how a little brat could be inside a body so beautiful. Look at his hair, his skin. It's practically porcelain, Cheryl. I never knew how much the spell would affect them.'
Betty felt her stomach twist into uncomfortable knots. What was Miss Blossom talking about?
'Yeah, they're pretty beautiful.' Cheryl said stiffly. ‘Mom, no offence, but you’re starting to sound creepy.’ Her voice shook slightly. ‘They’re still kids, mom. They didn’t grow up like I did.’
Cheryl sounded as disgusted as Betty felt. 'Mom, don't touch him like that!' The girl hissed, an edge to her tone. Betty wanted so badly to open her eyes and look.
‘You can’t-‘ Cheryl’s voice was a protective growl. ‘Mom, stop touching his face.’
‘Mr Andrews is eternally asleep, honey. See, look. If I was to do this,’ Betty definitely felt Archie tense up against her once more. ‘He won’t feel anything. He’s plastic, Cheryl. Just a doll.’
Cheryl spoke with gritted teeth. ‘It doesn’t mean you can touch him like that, mom.’
Penelope hummed softly in agreement. 'I'm sorry, honey. I just can't get over them. They're like sculpted angels.' A chuckle. 'Of course in your imaginary world, they're still your little friends. But in the real world, they're statues I'm itching to put in the main hall.'
Betty was sure she heard a single intake of breath. It sounded like Archie. Cheryl must have noticed, because she coughed loudly, before letting out a disgusted snort. 'What?' She hissed.
Penelope ignored Cheryl's tone. 'Hmm. I'm thinking the Andrews boy can go in the foyer. Though the little frown that’s been stuck to his face is almost as bad as his freckles!’ That time, Betty did flinch.
‘Maybe we can force a smile!' Penelope said gleefully. 'All it takes is parting his lips slightly. I have Fred Andrews coming over to talk about ripping down the Twilight diner. It would give me deep satisfaction knowing that he can walk past the son he never even saw grow up.'
Betty thought Archie might break. She could practically hear his shuddery breaths escaping his lips as he forced himself to stay still, to stay calm. Archie had always been the over-dramatic one when they were kids. But they were still kids. Archie was just a frightened child trapped inside a teenage boy.
Betty waited for him to let out a cry, but there was nothing. Only short gasps of breath he was trying to keep discreet. Though as much as Betty tried to tell herself they weren't noticeable, she could definitely hear them cut through the silence that had swept over the room. Come on, Archie. She thought desperately. Betty felt for the boy's hands, an attempt at being reassuring. But there were at least six different hands connected to her, coiled in tough rope.
'Mom, they're not marble.' Cheryl practically growled. 'People are going to talk if you use frozen teenagers as house decorations.'
Penelope Blossom chuckled. 'I'm sure we can find a spell to turn them to a more manageable material, honey.’ She cackled. ‘How about stone?’
Cheryl didn't say anything. Betty's heart was racing. Miss Blossom wanted to turn them to stone?
“Or wax.’ The woman continued. ‘Then they will be completely lifelike.’
‘You have a sick kind, mother.’ Cheryl eventually muttered.
Though the woman wasn't done. Her tone turned sour. 'What's wrong, Cheryl?’ She asked with mock innocence. ‘Have you grown attached to your dolls?'
Betty held herself, forcing her body to stay frozen. But the woman's words cut into her like glass. She managed to keep her eyes shut, despite the overbearing urge to open them and freak out. Betty felt like there were heavy weights on her chest, crushing her heart. The ropes around her wrists and weren't helping. She gave them a gentle tug, far too discreet to get caught. But the bonds dug harshly into her skin. Betty wondered how long she would be able to hold her breath. Cheryl's mother's voice pierced through her thoughts. Her voice sounded so close- as if Penelope Blossom was inches from her face. Betty felt the woman’s breath tickle her face.
Don't breathe. She went over Cheryl’s mantra in her head. Keep your eyes shut. Betty realised, a shot of electricity running through her, that she was crying. She felt tears slowly sliding down her cheeks and fought back a sniff, a whimper. There was an uneasy silence as Betty held her head frozen in the same position. Her neck was aching, her head was pounding. She could practically feel Penelope Blossom’s scrutinizing gaze boring into her. Betty was finding it hard to hold back a tearful shriek.
‘Or we could just...kill them.’ Penelope said softly. Betty felt the woman’s breath dancing across her parched lips. She longed to turn her head away, but then she surely would be caught. Unless Penelope had already caught her.
‘And then we can burn their remains in the backyard.’ She sighed wistfully. ‘Even better. The Blossom graveyard!’
‘Mom.’ Cheryl muttered impatiently. ‘Shouldn’t you be getting ready for The Cooper charity Gala?’
‘Ah, yes.’ Penelope Blossom murmured. ‘The wonderfully oblivious Alice Cooper.’ Once again the woman’s warm breath was in Betty’s face. ‘Completely unaware that her daughter is righttttt here.’
Betty fought against a cry of fright. Don’t move. Cheryl’s words were getting harder and harder to follow. Don’t open your eyes. Cheryl’s mother’s voice was as cold as steel, almost the delightful hiss of a snake. ‘Sweet Betty Cooper.’ She murmured. ‘All grown up. No longer Alice’s little angel.’
Don’t breathe. Betty repeated Cheryl’s words in her head as loud as she possibly could. She screamed them with her highest mental voice. She winced slightly, scared the woman could actually hear her. Betty felt a combination of fingers twine through hers. Archie and Jughead. Either reassuring her, or more likely; they were as scared as her, seeking out comfort.
‘Do you pity them Cheryl?’ Penelope asked the other girl. Betty heard the breath catch in Cheryl’s throat, as if her response was an automatic; ‘Yes.’
‘No.’ She replied in a hissed breath. Penelope chuckled. ‘That’s right, honey. You’re to never, ever pity the little brats.’ Betty stiffened. She swore Jughead made the tiniest, most discreet squeak. Was this because of their little games? Their little kids games? Betty felt a stream of anger flood her veins, igniting her from the inside. She wasn’t even- she wasn’t even part of the teasing!
It was Jughead who had hidden her snacks at break-time, and Veronica who had stolen her favourite princess dress. Archie hadn’t really done anything, except complain how annoying she was.
Betty gritted her teeth. She hadn’t done anything wrong! And she was being punished.
This wasn’t- this wasn’t fair! Betty kicked and screamed in her head. She tugged at her hair, ripping it out. She lunged at Veronica. At Archie and Jughead, for being so stupid. So completely stupid!
Yet in this cruel new reality, in this life she had been stolen from for five years. She stayed completely immobile, biting back the urge to cry out from the icy concrete tickling her soles as she rested them on the ground. Despite her mind stampeding inside her skull, having the Tantrum of all Tantrum’s. Get away from me. Betty wanted to whimper in the evil witch’s face.
She felt the woman’s gaze burning into her own, and discomfort wiggled up and down her spine. ‘Betty Cooper, Archie Andrews, Jughead Jones and Veronica Lodge.’ Betty resisted to flinch as each of their names was spat into her face. Betty felt the saliva hit, and settle onto her lips. The urge to desperately wipe it away was overwhelming. ‘Four little kids their parents forgot..’
Jughead definitely let out a single shaky breath that time. ‘The town forgot..’ Penelope continued, before Betty felt the woman’s fingers tangling in her ponytail, before gripping hard- and yanking her head back. DON’T MOVE. DON’T OPEN YOUR EYES. Betty felt tears spring to her eyes as the woman tugged her hair as if she was playing with a ragdoll. She felt her head bash into one of the boy’s, and had to hold her breath to stay silent. To stay completely still. Stay still, Betty. Stay completely-
‘How about we play a game?’ Penelope spoke up. ‘Cheryl, sweetheart, fetch me some scissors.’
‘What?’ Cheryl hissed. She chuckled nervously. ‘Why on earth do you want scissors, mother?’
The woman giggled manically, and Betty heard Archie whimper. ‘Your dolls have looked the same for a while, honey. As much as I love how they look, how about we give them a make-over?’
No. Betty couldn’t do it anymore. She longed to blink her eyes open and scream that she was alive, that she was free- that she wanted her mother so much it hurt. More footsteps. This time however, Penelope went over to the boys. Betty held in a sob, a gasp for breath, when she heard the unmistakable clang of metallic scissors meeting fleshy palms. ‘First of all, I want to cut of all of their hair..’ The woman murmured. Betty could imagine the woman dragging the scissor blade down a much older Jughead’s cheek. A Jughead she didn’t know. As he squeezed his eyes shut like her, his breath held, lungs constricting with pressure as she leaned closer and closer to him, her breath in his face. ‘How about we get rid of Archie’s freckles?’ She said. When Cheryl made a noise of protest, her mother chuckled. ‘He won’t feel anything, Pumpkin. He’s under a spell. Remember?’
‘Yes, of course.’ Cheryl said weakly. The woman made an acknowledging noise. ‘Oh Cheryl, imagine the possibilities! We could make them even more perfect than they are now.’
Cheryl didn’t answer. Betty sensed the girl’s discomfort. How on-edge she truly was. ‘Mom..’ She started softly, but Penelope cleared her throat, ignoring her daughter. Betty had a feeling they had a strained relationship. ‘I’ll start with the Jones kid. His eyes have been bugging me. Fetch me some Blue dye, honey. I think a lovely Sapphire Blue will suit him perfectly.’
‘You can’t...’ Cheryl choked out a laugh. ‘Mom, you can’t dye his eyes!
‘Why not? He won’t feel it.’ Betty heard the grin in the woman’s voice. ‘Look at him,’ Betty imagined Miss Blossom’s witch-like fingers gripping her best friend’s chin and forcing it her way. She remembered Jughead’s ten-year-old face perfectly. Chocolate brown hair and a teasing grin. It hurt her to think Miss Blossom was being so violent. She felt every shiver that ran down the boy’s spine. She felt every tremor he tried to keep discreet that rocked his body up and down. ‘Now all I need to do is prise open his lids. Cheryl, please don’t dawdle. I have some Azul dye over there.’
Betty felt sweaty fingers entwine with hers, and she swallowed a hiccup. Juggie. She wanted to cry out to him, to tell him it was okay. Cheryl was going to save them from the evil witch. They just had to hold on just a little longer. Just a little longer, Juggie. She whimpered in her mind.
Though part of her, the inner ten year old that had failed to grow up, despised her friend. He and Veronica and Archie were the reason why she was in this mess. Because they were mean.
Because they had made silly passwords up for their games, locking her out when she tried to play. But Betty failed to understand that she too had been giggling with them, making up words so Cheryl could never guess. Ten year old Betty was far too stubborn to remember she too had been a bully;
‘Cube?’ Cheryl was on the edge of tears, her lips sealed together. Though her eyes lit up with hope as she uttered what must have been her tenth attempt at guessing their password to join in their game of tag. ‘Nope!’ Veronica shouted gleefully. ‘Guess again, Cheryl!’ she giggled. Clearly enjoying it.
‘Can you- can you give me a clue?’ The girl whimpered. Betty shook her head, her blonde ponytail whipping in her face. ‘Wrong again, Cheryl!’ she clutched Jughead and Archie’s hands, and they all shared a sly look, knowing that they could make up any word in the English language and Cheryl would never guess it. Jughead giggled. ‘You have one more try, Cheryl. Come on, it’s easy!’
‘No.’ Cheryl’s reply shocked her out of the memory, and Betty very nearly opened her eyes. Penelope’s sharp intake of breath chilled her to the core. ‘No?’ The woman repeated, with mock innocence. ‘Why would that be, Cheryl?’
Don’t move. Don’t flinch. Don’t open your eyes. Cheryl’s mantra was getting harder and harder to follow. But it was when Penelope Blossom let out a hiss. ‘I knew it!’ and Jughead finally let out a loud and very noticeable shriek, when Betty’s eyes flew open, her thoughts pummelling her.
‘Get away-‘ Jughead’s voice was surprisingly cold. But he was whimpering. ‘Get away from me!’
She blinked rapidly through clouded vision and twisted her aching neck, so she could see what was happening. Betty let out a breath when she finally saw Archie, who had also turned his head, his eyes wide open in fright. The two of them made eye-contact. Two ten-year-olds seeing each-other as grown teenagers. No matter how hard Betty looked for her friend, all she saw was a grown boy, with dark red hair- that wash of freckles still decorating his pale face. Archie stared at her and swallowed. His lips twisted into a frown. ‘Betty?’ He whispered. His voice was hoarse. But there was no time for a reunion. Both of them twisted back around when Penelope Blossom let out a loud laugh. ‘You broke the spell!’ She cackled, at Cheryl, who was standing frozen, almost petrified, behind her.
‘I had to.’ Cheryl whimpered. ‘Mom, it’s abuse. It’s kidnapping- attempted murder! It’s not fun anymore!’ she insisted. ‘Mommy, they were suffering. I could tell they were in pain, that they were trapped.’
‘So you freed them.’ Penelope murmured. She started to pace the room, and Betty followed the woman’s manic stride with wide eyes. ‘You let your childhood tormentors, your little dollies, escape.’
‘I’m going to take them away, mom.’ Cheryl said softly. Calmly. ‘I’m going to find the witch that did this to them, and take them back to their families.’
Penelope barked out a laugh. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, you little brat.’ Then the woman was marching towards the teens, grabbing hold of Archie by the hair. The boy hissed out in pain, but didn’t cry out. ‘You made a mistake awakening them, Cheryl.’ The woman growled, as she got to work untying the Andrews boy and yanking him from his seat. Betty felt the boy being ripped away, his back no longer pressed against hers. Jughead strained in his bonds, letting out a cry; ‘Let him go!’
Penelope dragged Archie so he was facing his friends. She held him in a tight embrace, her arms coiled around his neck. He struggled to no avail. ‘How about I slice his freckles off now?’ The woman cackled. ‘While he’s completely conscious?’
‘You’re crazy!’ Jughead cried. ‘Why are you doing this? Let us go you crazy witch!’
Betty couldn’t help it, then. She turned her head to look at this older version of Jughead, this boy she hadn’t seen grow up. When she did see him, her heart spiked a little. Her stomach rolled with a feeling she didn’t understand. The teenage boy was twisted in his own chair, his dark eyes wide with fright as they set on Archie. He had the same dark hair, tousled and curled at the edges as it brushed against that same olive skin. But that was where the familiarities stopped. The boy’s face was curvier, his eyes darker and a lot older. Gone was the childish gleam she was so used to.
Jughead was staring back at her, she realised. She detected confusion clouding his iris. Betty? He mouthed.
‘Aw, isn’t that sweet, Cheryl?’ Penelope murmured. ‘Your dolls remember each-other.’
Betty turned back to the crazy woman, blinking hard. So much to take in. Jughead and Archie looked completely different. Her heart ached. What about Veronica?
Penelope had hold of the scissors again, and was scathing the blade slowly down Archie’s cheek. The boy squirmed in her grip. ‘Please,’ he gasped. ‘Miss Blossom, Please don’t- don’t do this!’
Cheryl was unusually quiet. Betty struggled in her own bonds, yanking at the ropes twined around her wrists. That had held her for five years. ‘Juggie.’ She was speaking like a child, but with the voice of a teenage girl. It terrified her. ‘Juggie, what do we do?!’ she cried.
His reply startled her. She would never get used to his grown-up-voice. ‘I don’t know.’ He whispered. Both of them had no choice but to watch the horror unfold, as Penelope Blossom sliced the blade into their friend’s cheek. ‘Cheryl!’ Betty squeaked, her eyes filling with tears. ‘Please stop her!’
Cheryl didn’t answer. Her dark green eyes were instead pin-pointed on the wooden doors of the barn they were in. She was rolling her phone around in her palm, muttering to herself.
Archie let out a cry, as the blade slowly dug into his cheek, a pool of scarlet starting to dribble down his pale cheeks. ‘Stop struggling,’ Penelope growled. ‘You’ll look better without those disgusting freckles-‘
The woman’s words were drowned out by a mechanical roar of engines, which forced a cry from Betty’s lips. She ducked her head, cowering with fright when the huge barn doors crashed open, followed by a silver Vauxhall, which careered directly into Penelope Blossom, who instantly let go of Archie, who fell to his knees. With the woman distracted and on the ground, Cheryl made her move, lunging towards her mother and smashing something- a vase? Over the witch’s head.
Penelope hit the ground with an oomph as the car came to a stop, its headlights blaring making Betty squint. A boy stuck his head out of the window, and Betty had to bite her lip to stop herself from screaming her friend’s name; ‘Kevin!’ The boy was undoubtedly Kevin Keller. He had the same close-cropped dark hair and tan skin. He was even wearing a sweater vest.
‘What the hell?’ Kevin jumped out of the drivers seat and delicately stepped over Penelope Blossom’s body. Archie was on his knees next to her, breathing heavily. ‘Did I just witness you smash your mother over the head with a vase?’ Kevin hissed to Cheryl, who had wandered over to Betty and Jughead and started to untie them. Betty felt the ropes loosen around her wrists. The relief was overwhelming. Cheryl was breathing heavily. She let out a choked laugh. ‘For once, Keller. Your shitty driving saved us.’
Kevin frowned, confused. ‘Saved who?’ His eyes were on Betty, Jughead, and then Archie. His eyes widened comically. ‘Cheryl, why are they tied up?’ He asked shakily. ‘Who are these kids?’
Cheryl sighed. ‘It’s a really long story. Can you just get Archie into the car? I’ve got these three.’ As soon as Betty was untied, Cheryl helped her to stand. Betty was wobbly on her feet, but the girl kept hold of her. Cheryl grabbed her shoulders and forced a smile. ‘I know this is scary, Betty, and I know you’re still ten years old. But you need to trust me okay?’
Betty nodded shakily. Cheryl helped Jughead up next, who automatically grabbed her hand, squeezing it like his life depended on it. Kevin wandered over, looking flustered. ‘Cheryl, that red-head isn’t saying a word, is he mute?’
Cheryl shook her head. ‘I’ll tell you everything in the car. For now, grab Veronica. She’s still asleep.’
‘Uh, sure.’ Kevin started to untie the dark haired girl. ‘Cheryl, no offense, but did you guys like, go on a kidnapping spree, taking four random teens?’ Kevin managed to carry Veronica, bridle style, over to the car. While Kevin was gently lying the girl across the seats, Cheryl turned to Betty and Jughead. ‘Try not to freak Kevin out, okay?’ she hissed, ushering them to the car. ‘Try and act like teenagers.’ The girl sighed. ‘If he asks you anything, just- uh... grunt and mutter something.’
Jughead folded his arms across his chest, with a childish huff. ‘Why can’t we speak to him? He’s our friend.’
Cheryl sighed again. ‘He doesn’t remember you.’ She eventually said. ‘Nobody remembers you.’
Betty stared at the girl, and Jughead gripped her hand so tight she had to hold back a cry.
‘Alright, we’re ready to go!’ Kevin shouted from the drivers seat. Betty and Jughead climbed in the backseat, where Archie was kneeling on the plush leather seats, Veronica lying over his lap. His cheek was still smeared scarlet. ‘I’m scared.’ He said softly, and Jughead grabbed his hand, as Kevin started the engine and flicked the radio on. ‘Kev!’ Cheryl hissed, to which the boy frowned. ‘What?’ The boy hissed in frustration, his hands gripping the steering wheel. ‘Alright Cheryl, you’re gonna tell me why you had four teens tied up in your barn and why they look like traumatised three-year-olds.’
‘I’m ten!’ Jughead insisted. Archie nodded. ‘Same here. We’re not three, Kev.’
Betty didn’t say anything, but she did watch Kevin Keller’s cheeks get progressively paler. He twisted around to frown at the three of them. ‘You’re ten?’ He repeated, his voice strained. ‘And how exactly do you know my name?’ His eyes narrowed.
Cheryl rolled her eyes, leaning against her seat. ‘Oh boy.’ She grabbed the boy and forced him to sit straight, towards the front. ‘Drive, Keller.’ She said. ‘Drive, and I’ll tell you everything.’