She knew she shouldn't have come tonight.

Betty could feel her heart thumping in her ears as she tried to breathe. The dark room felt like it was closing in on her, making her feel even more panicky. Trapped beneath the weight of him, she felt claustrophobic.

"Shhh…just relax, babygirl," he caressed her face in a way that was probably meant to soothe, but it just made her even more uneasy. She then felt his lips at her ear, teeth enclosing the lobe, and her stomach lurched. He smelled strongly of liquor and weed.

Why didn't she fight back? Why didn't she tell him no?

Maybe she just thought that eventually he'd realize she wasn't reciprocating and go away.

She'd initially stolen away to the quiet bedroom to escape the loud sounds of the party. Her roommate, Cheryl, had insisted that she should come with her to the frat party, "at least once." She'd promised that after one drink, if she wasn't feeling it, they could leave. Of course, this isn't what had happened and Betty knew that it wouldn't. Cheryl ended up getting very drunk and dancing with her sorority sisters, as Betty expected. She really didn't mind though.

This was who Cheryl Blossom was. It was her lifestyle: she loved to party and drink and dance. Betty'd even joined in on the fun, dancing with them and taking a few jell-o shots (though not near as many as her red-headed friend). But, it was nearing two in the morning, and her head hurt and she was tired. She knew Cheryl would probably be out till dawn, so she planned to just sit in a quiet room for a while, drink some water to sober up. She'd make sure Cheryl had a safe way home, and then walk the short block back to their dorm.

Falling asleep wasn't part of the plan. Waking up at God knows what hour to a stranger kissing her wasn't part of the plan. What had happened to her that night was not part of the plan.

She suddenly came to her senses, and she weakly pushed against his chest. "Wait, no…"

"Don't worry," he murmured. "I'll be gentle."

By the time hiked her dress up around her waist, fingers hooking into the waistband of her pink lace panties, shimmying them down her legs, it was too late. Fingers wandered to places where no man had ever touched her, and then she heard him fumble with his belt buckle and then his fingers were replaced by him inside her.

It hurt. It hurt so much.

He continued, thrusting himself in and back out, much too rough, much too fast, over and over. She dug her nails into her palms, drawing blood that dripped onto the navy bed sheets.

He finally finished, pulling himself out and coming onto her thigh.

And then, as he buckled his jeans he asked her if it hurt. Asked it as if she were his girlfriend, his friend. As if he actually cared how she felt about it. Like it was something she had engaged in.

She stared at him through tears, dumbfounded.

"Fine, bitch," and he left her alone.

Betty had never felt so alone.

"I know I've told you like a million times today, Kev, but thank-you," Betty says, as she and her best friend set the last of her boxes into the plain bedroom that was now hers. "You're a real lifesaver. And you saved me from having to move back in with my parents," the blonde scrunches her nose up at the thought of having to live with her overbearing mother again, especially after she'd gotten a taste of what it was like to be free of her.

"No worries, Betty," Kevin smiles, wrapping her in a tight hug. "What's a gay best friend good for if not to offer roommate services."

Betty laughs at his goofy grin before her face fell. It had been a long few weeks, and she honestly felt like crap about everything that had happened.

"I'm pathetic, Kev," she shakes her head, turning to open one of the boxes with 'miscellaneous' written along its side in thick black sharpie.

"No, you're not, Betty."

"Yes, I am," she shrugs, beginning to unpack the various decorations, photos and knick knacks, placing them about the room. "I manage to escape Riverdale and go to Harvard, of all places. And then I crack under the pressure. Not even through my sophomore year, and I've already failed out."

"It's an Ivy League, Betts. It's not like you flunked Riverdale Community College."

"I know, but," she sighs, turning toward him. "I've spent my whole life trying to be perfect. Which isn't good, I know, but, for once, I felt like I'd found something that I was good at. I really thought I could pursue this writing thing, Kev. And I spent all this time and energy and effort to make good grades so I could go to a good school and get the hell out of this fucking town.…just to have a mental breakdown and end up right back where I started?"

There's a long, thick silence, before Kevin finally speaks again, his tone serious. "What led you to do that?"

Betty shrugs, trying so hard to squelch down the emotions that arose when the incident was brought up. She'd only ever talked about it to the head doctor when she got committed to the psych ward, and that was only because she knew if she didn't they wouldn't let her leave. And even then, she didn't tell her about what had happened that fateful night at the frat party, which was probably the real reason she'd flunked out of school and attempted to take her own life. It would be a secret she would carry to her grave.

"It all got too much, I guess? My sister's drama, school, all of it..." she looks down at her hands, fidgeting them nervously. "I was trying to be everything for everyone. I just…. I needed it to stop, y'know?" She quickly blinks away the tears that threaten to poke out of her eyes.

"Betty, if you ever feel that way again, please tell me. Or somebody."

"I will. I promise," Betty nods, smiling softly. "I think I should be alright, now, though. They've got me on some good old fashioned crazy meds, and they actually help, surprisingly enough."

"Look at it this way," Kevin grins, "when you're at the bottom, the only way you can go is up!" He was trying to make her feel better, but it was obvious by the grimace on her face it'd ended up having the opposite effect. "Not that you're at the bottom or anything, you're far from the bottom, in fact, um… I'll just leave you to unpack."

"That might be for the best," Betty let out a small laugh. "Thanks, Kev. For everything."

"Of course," he smiles again before ducking out of the room.

Betty turns toward the small mountain of boxes that had formed in the center of the room. "Wanna help me unpack, Caramel?"

The little orange cat doesn't move from her spot on the newly made bed.

"You're about useless, you know that?" she laughs. "Welp. I guess that leaves it up to me, huh? This isn't going to unpack itself."

The blond brings up her hands, using them to tighten her already tight ponytail, before setting to work make the tiny room hers.