𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐄
DOES GUILT GNAW AT YOU?
; ♡⋆.ೃ࿔*

"Everybody dies."

That's what Chris had been reminding himself for the past few hours, slumped on his couch staring at the bloody handprint on the wall from his doing. His own small wounds on his stomach pulsing and stinging in pain whenever he made any sudden movements. Mind drifting in and out of consciousness as he thought deeply about that statement that continued to echo in his mind and leaves his lips. A cold piece of metal tight in his grasp with his finger tested around the curl of the trigger. Daring himself to do the deed that he sought to be the only resolution of the things he destroys and has destroyed.

He never understood how he got to this point honestly. It could've been rooted back to his childhood and the pain he endured. Keeping that anger within himself through the years until he met Jason. Some sort of salvation was gifted to him for only such a short time before Jason was taken away from him. Another piece of him being stripped away from him that loved Jason. That truly loved Jason. Losing the first person he actually thought he couldn't live a day without seeing at least once in a day.

The feelings that Chris had held back for the boy, in fear of losing. A piece of him knew when he told Jason these things wouldn't exactly be the same. It had the truth since that rejection had hurt him and only made his alcohol and drug abuse worse. Not able to go a day without maybe three joints. His anger issues got worse, which had led him to be locked up for a day or two. But even then, despite the awkward tension he felt with Jason, he still expected his friend to get him out. When he was still stranded there, his resentment for his friends and his family only got worse.

But then again, he could just root it back to his normal nature as a person. A genuine, honest, cruel person that had been tormented through his life. Not just by his father, but by the kids all over Riverdale. Finding the only solution of any normalcy comes from alcohol and drugs. Knowing damn well that sooner or later he would become addicted just like his father. But even then, he didn't care. All he wanted was that bliss that gave him a sense of freedom of mind. A peacefulness that was given to him. But it is taken away from him and reveals the darkest parts of himself.

This wasn't how he wanted to live his life, breaking his friend's and lovers hearts left and right. There had to be some meaning and purpose to his life that he had yet to find. Only, each day that went by, each heart he broke, each person he hurt, the farther he felt that purpose was. Constantly leaving him wondering what he was even on this earth for. Was his entire reason for being alive to just hurt the ones he loved? To be someone for people to stay away from and to always be alone?

Those were the questions he asked himself as he sat there with the pistol tight in his grasp. The cold metal of the weapon sent goosebumps up and down his body. Reciting the statement like a holy chant to give him that final push he needed. Knowing that in some other dimension, he was good. Life was good and he was finally happy with who was. He had Veronica on his hip, they were going to school and having the time of their lives. They could go wherever they wanted with their friends with them. Exploring the world, partying, becoming adults and having their own separate journeys from one another. But still, they would be tight-knit and would come back to their hometown to reconnect and just relive the good old days. Everything was just, good.

That was just a dream that Chris had and wished to obtain. Where he could finally be happy with who he was and not so broken. Where everything he dreamed of could come to reality. Furthering the beautiful experience of life that he wished to have. But that's some alternate reality and just a dream Chris had no chance of experiencing. He was trapped in this world, an inmate in a prison of his own mind and creation. A cage he couldn't handle spending another second in. Wanting to experience an everlasting silence that would shroud him in comfortable silence. The final warm hold of Veronica as she whispered soft comforting words that would finally ease him into whatever was after death.

Everything about that seemed so amazing to him, so calm and so pleasing. Finally urging him to tighten his grip around the handle of the pistol. Closing his eyes as he slid his thumb up onto the hammer. Pulling it back and letting it click into a locked position, the sound caused a sharp inhale to escape from him. Pressing his tongue to the inside of his cheek as he raised the weapon to his right temple. Maybe death was that salvation he sought to find and feel

The contrast feeling of the cold muzzle pressing against his warm skin caused a shaky sigh to escape his lips. Swallowing the lump in his throat that seemed to have him choke on air for a moment. Not from fear, but just from exhaustion. He was just so exhausted from everything. "Everybody dies." He whispered to himself, giving him that final shove. A painful shove that he knew there was no turning back from.

Adjusting his grip on the handle, he felt his finger begin to clench around the trigger. Jaw ticking as his face scrunched up. Nose twitching as every millisecond seemed to be much longer than anything else he's ever experienced. And with one final bite of his lip, he pulled the trigger with a snap.

Click!

Chris opened his eyes, releasing a breath he hadn't know he was holding in with the pistol falling from his grasp. Hitting the shattered glass floor with his chest tightening. Whatever ounce of confidence left in him swept away with some form of relief. Running his hands over his face, not even having noticed the cold tears that had escaped and freely fell from his eyes and ran down his warm skin. There were no cries or sobs that left him, but just utter and bleak silence. His entire body was numb and weightless as he sat there on the couch. Body trembling with heavy breaths racking his entire body. Letting his head fall back with his eyes closed, a short chuckle of disbelief leaving his lips.

Every single moment from his friends and family flashed before his eyes like a movie. Becoming the forefront of his every thought, his entire world. They were his entire world. Even though he's lost some people along the way, there were still people that cared for him, that loved him. When no one else did, his friends and family were there for him. Going through thick and thin to help him with anything, so did he for them. They've helped guide him through life, helping him try and find some damn meaning to his life. And although he didn't know his purpose, there had to be something he could find to help him. There had to be something-

"Chris!"

A scream.

A gut-wrenching scream that shook his body to his complete core. In fact, he could feel the entire room tremble and shake just from the volume. It was one of fear, anguish, and an unmistakable amount of pain within it. An evergrowing amount of alarm filled his mind as he spun around. Coming face to face with Veronica that was rushing towards him. Tears brimmed the edge of her eyes as she stared at him.

Frowning, Chris approached her with open arms. "'Ronnie, what's-" His words got caught in his throat when he felt her go through him. Eyes flickering around in front of him, hands patting his body before turning around and inhaling sharply. Being forced to listen to the screams and wails from Veronica who was in hysterics. The addition of the entire group, rushing over to her. Archie quickly scrambled to get his phone out, nearly dropping the fucking thing in the process. Jughead standing over him with such shock and tears of his own being shed. Betty let out yells for Archie to hurry up and Kevin crouched down beside Veronica. She cried, hands grabbing at his bare skin and shaking him in hopes of waking him up. Begging for him to just give her some form of life.

Because as Chris approached them, his eyes widened with his lips parting. "No, no, no." He whispered, hand coming up to cover his mouth. He stared at his lifeless corpse, bullet wound in the side of his head. A slowly forming pool of blood began to build around him. Sickness bottled in his stomach as he took a step back. Breaths getting heavier and tighter with each one, bending over and resting his hands on his knees. "Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck. Oh, god no."

Regret was an instant feeling that greeted him, literally. A knock at the door got his attention and recoiled instantly at the person who appeared. Head spinning, causing him to stumble back and lean against the wall behind him with a frown. "Tommy?" The blonde smirked in amusement. Pulling his hands from his pockets and extended his arms out in a ceremonial gesture. "In the flesh you sick motherfucker." Tommy laughed, approaching a bewildered Chris Jones.

"What the fuck is going on?" Chris muttered, looking between his group of friends and Tommy who now stood beside him. "Well, if you haven't noticed, you're kinda dead, man." The blonde replied mockingly, his condescending tone angering Chris to the point where he tried to punch the boy. Only feeling his hand pass right through the blonde and causing him to stumble to the ground.

Another laugh echoed from the blonde who stuffed his hands in his pockets. Eyes fixated on the group of friends trying to get help to the apartment as soon as possible. "Yeah, that shit doesn't work here, dude." He stated before motioning to the small group. "I gotta say, I'm kinda jealous. I wish had people who came to my help and tried to save me." He commented as Chris stared at him weirdly, letting his gaze slowly drift to his friends.

It is a sight he never thought he would ever see and still, at this moment, never wanted to see. Being forced to watch Veronica weep, hands hesitant to even make any sort of contact with his skin. Watching Jughead sob, Betty held him in his arms as she cried as well. With the anchor of the group, Archie in his own state of panic and shock, stood by the apartment door screaming for help. And finally, Kevin has wrapped a cloth around Chris's lifeless head. But even Chris had to question what the hell that would even do.

"The gun wasn't loaded. I heard it-" Before he could finish, Tommy let out an airhorn impression. Cutting the Jones boy off and laughing as he pointed to the weapon on the ground. "You mean this one?" He inquired, grabbing the gun and releasing the magazine. Finding it filled with only one bullet gone, stuck in Chris's head. "Yeah, it was loaded, Chris," Tommy explained. "When you die, you don't feel the pain. It's instant and you just feel free and numb. Your mind played tricks on you to not make you feel such pain. And I mean, why the hell do you think they can't see you or hear you right now?"

As much as Chris was hating the company of Tommy, it was the truth. He was truly dead. Nothing he could do could benefit anything happening in the living realm. All he could do was just watch them weep over his selfish decision. Unsure if he was even breathing or dead. So many mysteries that he and the others had questions for but no answers able to be given or found.

A gentle sigh came from Tommy who stood beside Chris, both watching the group. The sound of Archie's yells gained their attention and turned to find paramedics rushing inside. "It's too late, don't they realize that?" The blonde huffed, shaking his head. Chris continued to watch as his friends were pulled away. A sobbing Veronica was being held by Kevin as the paramedics were quick to lift him onto a gurney. Cops entered the apartment and ushered all the kids out, now it being a crime scene.

There was this feeling of helplessness in Chris's bones. He knew this could be his final moment even seeing any of his friends. If there was a chance he was alive, the minutes and seconds were dwindling. Only furthering the regret he had for not just putting the gun down and thinking things through. Thinking through his mistakes and what he could've definitely done differently. Now, he was forced to watch his own body be carried out of his apartment. His friends crying and weeping over his dumb decision. Something they couldn't have been able to stop. Something they couldn't try and help him through.

Everything's just come to an abrupt halt and Chris had no control over it. He couldn't change the way his life now hung in the balance. It all now relied on fate and if he was going to be given a chance at life once more. Internally, there was a debate about whether he deserved it or not. Thinking back on Jughead's words frequently. Maybe he was the anchor that held the others down. Perhaps, he was the rotten piece within the batch. So, maybe he didn't deserve this chance at life- at a better life.

"I've gotta ask, why the hell did you do it anyway?" Tommy inquired. "I mean, you had a smoking hot bad bitch, a brother, people who cared about you. Kinda seems like a shitty decision, honestly." He stated, turning his head towards the quiet Jones boy. Knowing damn well that his words were just trying to get under the boy's skin. But Chris couldn't find it in himself to argue with a dead kid. It wouldn't get him anywhere even if he'd like to believe fighting with a spirit saved his life.

And the lack of a response didn't go unnoticed by the blonde who scoffed. "Don't give me the silent treatment, man. Here, we're equals. We can talk about each other's feelings and if you are so feeling inclined, we can even braid one another hair." Tommy quipped with a mischievous smirk on his lips as he leaned back slightly. Chris clenched his jaw repeatedly. The muscles moving and showed that Tommy's words were getting to him, annoying him. Shaking his head and walked towards the apartment door. "Oh, there he goes!" Tommy called out as Chris exited the apartment.

But just as quick as he left, just as fast as he showed up in the halls of a rather familiar location. Eyes slightly widening as he looked down both ways of the hallway. Nightmares, ghosts, demons, all torments of his past coming right back for him. Standing just in that one hallway, it scared him further than anything else. "Ah, so you were a crazy kid, huh?" Tommy questioned suddenly, appearing behind Chris. Hands stuffed in his pockets as he looked around with his lips just barely parted. "You know, I was expecting a bit more mould and cracking of the walls and shit, but they're keeping it together quite nicely for a mental institution."

That was something Chris and Tommy could agree with. The institution; Sister of Quiet Mercy may have helped troubled kids, helping teach them respect and obedience, they as well turned people crazy. And for a small brief of time, Chris felt like he was on the edge of that. "It's not a nuthouse. It was built for kids with discipline troubles. The sisters would beat you into submission or drug the fuck out of you." He explained, walking down the hall with Tommy by his side. "Which did you endure?" The blonde mused, curious as to what the Jones boy would reply with.

A set of yells could be heard down the hall, the pair's attention diverting in the direction of the sound. Finding a frantic Chris Jones speeding around the corner with blue pyjamas on with his bare feet padding across the floor. "Stay the fuck away from me!" Chris's past self yelled, sprinting past the ghostly figures with two sisters rushing after him. One holding a cloth and the other holding a knife. Chris remembers the memory quite vividly as it had been something straight out of a horror movie. Punching one of the sisters before breaking out of his room. The pills forcefully being shoved down his throat drove him slowly insane until he broke out.

"I should've expected your ass to be in a place like this. A nuthouse probably would've suited you even better after what you did to me." Tommy laughed as they followed after the sisters. "You got yourself in that situation. I warned you, but you didn't want to listen." Chris countered, stopping in his movements and turning to the blonde. Eyes darker than they have ever been before, but Chris didn't know this. Tommy sure did because he recoiled, taking a step back with a forced playful smile tugging at his lips with his hands raising in surrender. "Oh, so feisty. If I wasn't straighter than a totem pole, I would be so down to fuck you." He quipped in a husky tone that left Chris's nose twitching in annoyance.

Cries filled the air that attracted the two boy's attention. Their heads snapping in the direction and being completely transported to a new location. When Chris looked back, the other end of the hall was gone and replaced with the interior of a trailer. His father's trailer. Chris clenched his hands tightly as he could hear the cries of a child. He knew it was him, how could he not when this memory was vivid?

His nose twitched with his bottom lip trembling as he took a few steps back. Tommy, completely clueless as to the memory and what he was seeing or hearing, looked at Chris in confusion. Frowning when seeing Chris's eyes clouded with tears, releasing a sharp and choked whimper. And before the blonde could even question anything, the sound of a hand connecting with a skin filled the air with cries following after it.

An uncomfortable silence enveloping the two boys with their gaze fixated in the direction the sound had come from. Neither making any movement to check what it had specifically been. "What happened here?" Tommy inquired quietly, his tone softer than Chris felt comfortable with. Considering the fact that this was someone Chris had beaten half to death and left for Malachai to kill. But even if he'd like to say what had happened in this trailer, Chris wouldn't be able tind the words to admit it. It'd been hard enough to tell Kaitlyn or Veronica. So, telling someone he never got to actually know besides being on the other end of a beating was still difficult.

Inhaling deeply, Chris clenched his jaw as the cries stopped. No other sound could be heard besides his and Tommy's breathing. "My father beat me." He confessed, walking past Tommy who never let his eyes stray too far from the Jones boy. "Much like how the sisters did at the correctional facility." Releasing a shaky breath as he walked to the trailer door and pushed it open. But immediately hissing at the blinding light that shone so bright in his eyes that it physically hurt to have his eyes open for just a millisecond. Clamping them shut and pushing through the light with a groan.

But when he made it through, the brightness behind his eyelids eased. Instead, being replaced with black and soft orange hues. So, with a bit of reluctance, he opened his eyes and was greeted by a road outside Riverdale. Looking up at the streetlight that stood tall and shone down from above. A blistering breeze engulfed him for a few moments, forced him to clamp his teeth together to not let out a shaky breath. When it stopped, he sighed and flinched when he heard the sound of car doors slamming shut.

Rubbing his hands together as he walked towards the commotion. "This is where they dumped my body. Your friend, Malachai." Tommy whispered, voice full of disgust as he said the Ghoul's name. But when Chris turned to look if Tommy was by his side, he found no one. Swivelling around in a full circle, Chris still found himself alone. So, he pushed on and soon made his way through the trees. Grunts leaving his lips with each step he took.

When Chris left Tommy for dead, left him to face the wrath of Malachai, he didn't show any remorse or empathy. In fact, Chris doesn't think he batted an eye for a second that might show his guilt and regret. But when he made it through the trees and stood at the edge of Sweet Water River, his heart clenched. Because he watched a weeping Tommy be ruthlessly pulled out from the trees and towards the edge of the water. Settled at the edge where Malachai shoved the boy to the ground and whistled out.

Two new Ghouls made their way over and pinned the blonde down. Ignoring Tommy's silence pleads and snotty and tear-stained face that trembled. Begging just to be let go, anything besides what was to come. Chris wouldn't say that Tommy didn't deserve it, 'cause he did and was punished for it, but even as twisted and heartless as Chris could realize when something was going too far. A bullet in the head should've been the only thing Malachai did to Tommy, but nope. The beating he'd received from Chris had been enough and there shouldn't have been any more to follow. That was his fault for not stopping Malachai.

"What he did next wasn't anything you hadn't done!" Tommy yelled, time stopping with Chris's eyes flickering from across the river to the blonde who stood near the frozen figures of the past. "He practically put a knife through my ankle and made me run. I ran for 10 seconds before he put a bullet in the back of my leg!" He explained with Chris bowing his head. "Come here, Chris." The blonde beckoned with a wave of his hand. When there was no response that left him, Tommy inhaled deeply in annoyance.

"Come." He growled and Chris's eyes rolled back into the back of his head. His body became numb until he fell to his knees in front of Tommy. Blinking and looking to his left to see the frozen sight of Malachai smiling evilly with a sobbing Tommy. "He did this all because he had a crush on a girl way out of his league. Still, to this day, I can't believe he thought he would ever win her over." Tommy laughed as he crouched down beside Malachai and stared at the man. Face hardening with a snarl as he tried to punch Malachai, but found his hand going through him.

"Tommy, I'm sorry for what happened to you. I should've stopped him and let you go." Chris breathed, standing to his feet with a deep inhale. "You think a simple apology will do the trick, Chris? Like, everything would just be fine and I would keel over and forgive you?" Tommy questioned harshly, standing to his own feet and stepping towards the Jones. His words had Chris shake his head and close his eyes. Muttering quiet "no's" until Tommy grabbed him by the collar of his shirt.

The actual contact shocked Chris whose eyes nearly popped out of his head. Flickering down to the blonde's hands and back up to his baby blue eyes. "You killed me. You have only hurt the people that love and care for you. Everything you've done is the reason why people hate you and resent you!" Tommy yelled, quick to shove Chris back. "You will have no one by the time you come out of this and I'll be fine with it. Are you?"

Chris pursed his lips, shifting his weight from one foot to another. Lifting his one-eyed gaze to Tommy and attempting to speak, but sighed softly and closed his mouth. Pressing his tongue to the inside of his cheek as his hands came together, thumb rubbing harshly into the back of his hands. The question he was left with was one that was good and shook Chris to the point that he didn't know what to do with his body. Fidgeting now became something he couldn't control.

Everything around fell apart, being wiped away and plunging Chris into darkness. A light above gave him some vision of what stood ahead of him. Nothing. "You've been through it, man. I'll give you that." Tommy's voice echoed. "But you've used that as an excuse to do horrible things when you had no right to do."

"You don't think I know that?" Chris exclaimed, spinning around in circles. "You don't think I hate myself every day, wishing I could do better? I've tried everything to be a better person." Laughter filled the cold space as Chris closed his eyes. "You say that, but you are responsible for Jason Blossom's death, bud." A snap of Tommy's fingers caused Chris to gasp.

When his eyes opened, he found himself outside the Whyte Wyrm. Watching a figure rushing down the steps at the back of the bar that led down to the basement. There was no time for him to try and grasp the claim Tommy had made only seconds ago. Abruptly being transported into the basement of the Whyte Wyrm. Instead of being a bystander, he now stood in the shoes of what he quickly discovered was his past self.

Right in front of him, stood Clifford Blossom, towering over the injured figure of Jason Blossom who spoke in rasped and shallow breaths. Words muffled by a thick cloud of dissociative essence in Chris' head as he stared lifelessly. Clearly seeing Jason talking to him, pleading for some response or subtle movement, but he earned nothing. Chris couldn't move or even put together a thought even if he'd like to.

"I wouldn't waste my time trying to talk to him if I were you," Clifford told his son. "Had him hypnotized to be under my command. I had to put the poor boy in this position because I knew he could lead you here." He explained, standing beside a mute and dissociated Chris Jones. Slinging his arm around the boy's shoulders and smiling menacingly.

"Dad, this is between you and me. CJ has no point in being here. You used him and you got me, let him go." Jason pleaded, voice trembling with his hands tugging to get free. Wishing to just reach out and grab Chris and pull the boy into a hug. And the gun resting in his dad's grip didn't exactly help with his anxiety for his well-being and Chris's. A scowl formed on Clifford's expression as he dropped his arm from Chris's shoulder and stepped in front of his son. "This is why I am so disappointed in you, son. The fact that you can't realize that there are sacrifices that need to be made for our family business."

"Chris..." Clifford motioned, turning halfway to the boy with a sigh. "He's a good kid, but his freedom will be granted until it's not. I can only give you that, Jason." He told the boy. Jason still couldn't find his anxiety eased as he continued to tug at the restraints. Eyes still focused on Chris who didn't move a single inch.

Internally, Chris was crying, screaming, fighting to gain control of his body. His mind did not want to accept the fact that even if he got control of himself, it'd be too late. This was a memory that only now made its attempt to present itself. If it was Tommy who helped reveal it, then Chris was grateful, but another part of him wished the truth stayed hidden. Sometimes the truth was better to stay hidden.

And that had been the case when he had to watch Clifford put a bullet in Jason's head. The sight was enough to break Chris free from that hold his body had been placed under. The vision was swept away and brought him back to his apartment. Back to the moment when everyone had been forced out with only the police now making the room a crime scene.

"I'm sorry for what I did to you." He spoke up, already feeling the gaze from Tommy. "I am wrong and you are right. I used that excuse and only now, seeing Jason be killed because..." Chris inhaled sharply and turned to Tommy. Eyes fixated on the ground as he exhaled heavily. "because of me. I realize that now I am not a good person. I don't deserve this life because of what I've done to people like you Tommy. My actions have been unjustifiable and I'm sorry for what I did to you."

Admitting that not only replaced the weight and guilt on his chest but gave him meaning. Simply to try and do better if given a chance at redemption. If he was given that shot, perhaps he would do better. There was no telling considering the fact that he was stuck in Limbo. But his eyes connected to Tommy's and he was surprised to find the boy smiling. Releasing a soft sigh of relief as he brought Chris into a hug.

Almost instinctively, Chris hugged the boy back. Stuffing his face in the blonde's shoulder and whimpered quietly. "You saying that Chris has been what I've wanted to hear for months now," Tommy whispered before softly pulling from Chris. A gentle smile on his lips as his eyes flickered across Chris's tears stained cheeks and glassy eyes. "You've given me my chance to move on."

Those words were the last ones Tommy said before his body disappeared. Crystalizing and shattering into tiny little pieces. The warmth Chris once felt had washed away and left him alone. A bitter cold enveloped his body as he stood there silently, sniffling as his energy had started to loosen. Blinking tiredly from the number of tears that he was shedding, but by how many emotions flowed through him.

Standing in his apartment, unaware of what would happen next. He knew that if he was given the chance, he would do better. After what he's done and witnessed, it was something that needed to be done. Not only for himself but for his friends and family. For Jason, Jughead, Archie, Betty, and Veronica. But it was just the question of if he deserved that second chance. If he was given a shot for redemption, he would take it. If that meant running away and trying to do better someplace else, he would. He just needed to have some faith. But the next question was as simple as it could be, yet one that could not be simply answered as he would wish it could.

Would he ever wake up?

A/N: there we are! That's the ending for Ruin! I want to personally thank every single person that has shown love to this story. There were times where I was frustrated with this story, doubting myself at every turn. But I have grown to love this  story and the people who have cared to just come and check it out. Even if it was only for one chapter or two. So, thank you to everyone who took the time out of their lives to check this out and showed it some love. And if you are reading this, I love you!

P.S, the second book is up :)