The rain poured like the sky was grieving, hammering the diner windows hard enough to shake the glass. Inside, it was warm, too warm, like the heater had been left on too long and the air had gone thick. Greasy. Artificial cherry-syrup sweetness hung in the air, clinging to your throat.

Jughead sat across from you in the booth, beanie soaked around the edges, dark hair curling at the nape of his neck. A half-eaten burger oozed onto his plate. Fries vanished into his mouth between page turns. And in front of him: a thick manila folder, the kind coroners usually kept sealed in drawers, not spread open beside diner condiments.

Photos littered the table like discarded napkins—images of twisted limbs, flayed skin, teeth embedded in carpet. One shot showed an arm bent so unnaturally it looked animal. Another captured blood smeared across linoleum in handprints that stopped at the edge of the floor, as if the person had been dragged backward into nothing.

Jughead flipped to the next picture. Took a bite of pie. Cherry-red filling stained his lips.

You hadn’t touched your food.

The waitress came by, paused, then silently backed away, muttering something about a smoke break. The bell above the door never rang. No footsteps. Just her vanishing.

“I think the ligature marks were done postmortem,” Jughead murmured through a mouthful of fries, like he was reading off a grocery list. “You can tell by the bruising pattern. Or lack of it.”

The lights above flickered.

Somewhere behind the counter, the radio changed stations on its own. A soft lullaby played—something old and warped, like a nursery rhyme dug up from a cassette found in a grave.

Jughead didn’t even blink.

You stared down at the table, vision swimming slightly. One photo near your elbow had something wrong with it. Not the corpse—those, you were unfortunately starting to get used to—but the corner of the picture. Like something was peeking in from the edge. Something with teeth.

The rain grew louder. Almost wet screaming against the glass.

Jughead was already on his second slice of pie.