Page 23

Penelope

It’s been about two weeks since everything happened, and since Riot left. I’m alone. After I begged Linda not to tell him about what happened. She only comes by every couple of days. I haven’t eaten or slept. I’ve sat on the roof. I haven’t been down since, other than to use the bathroom.

It was arranged for a doctor to come to the penthouse and give me a thorough check over. He did all sorts of tests, physically and through my blood. We got all the blood tests back a couple of days later. I don’t have anything to cause concern going on. They also did tests for any STDs, which, by the grace of God, came back negative for everything.

For a girl that’s been abused her whole life, I’m surprisingly healthy, besides the malnutrition. Linda was shocked reading me all the results and what everything means, but she cooked me a huge lunch after to celebrate. She told Riot all the good news, but I don’t know what he said to it all.

My radio has been on nonstop. Playing whatever pop songs everyone loves. Granted, I don’t believe this girl has released an album recently, but Stay by Rihanna plays out of the speakers.

I’ve had many episodes of this deep sadness. Where everything feels like choking on non-existent water. My past haunts my mind, sometimes causing hallucinations that send me into panic attacks.

I just want to be done. I don’t really want to be another prisoner. Even if Riot has feelings for me, would he let me out? Let me live a free life to do what I want? I don’t know.

Deciding my next step, I make my way to Riot’s bathroom. I rummage through every cabinet, grabbing every single pill bottle I can find, and run to the kitchen with an arm full. There are painkillers, allergy meds, so much shit.

I pour every last one into a bag and grab a large cup. Looking at the camera in the corner of the room, tears flowing down my cheeks, I turn back and start smashing the pills.

I grab whatever wine Riot fed to me the other night, pouring a big glass and dumping the powder of smashed pills into it. Letting it sit for a few minutes, I take it to the bedroom, setting the glass down on the nightstand next to the bed.

Lying down on the soft mattress, something startles me, like a ringing noise in the dead of silence of the empty penthouse. I get out of bed, following the sound. In a room I haven’t been in on the second floor, sits a home phone. A landline-looking one. I don’t know who’s calling since it has no screen to tell me a number, not that I know anybody’s. I hesitate before picking it up, waiting for someone on the other end to speak.

“Please, don’t do it.” Riot’s voice rings out in the speaker, sounding almost broken.

“Why?” I ask, my voice sounding equally as broken.

“I need you, Moss. Yo-.”

“But you are not here,” I interrupt him, my tone clipped, feeling angry at myself for believing he cared for me. If he did, he wouldn’t have left. He would’ve stayed here with me. I hear the dial tone start, meaning he hung up.

E-fucking-xactly.

I walk to the bedroom and grab the glass of wine, now heading to the roof. Since the sun is starting to set. I want to see the lights one more time. They have never let me down. They shine bright every night no matter what happens in the world. They are always there. I like that about cities. They are always alive and full of life, even if the people looking at them aren’t.

I’ve been up here for around an hour, my radio was still playing when I got up here, so I just kept it on. The drugged wine sits untouched next to me. I’ve been watching the night lights dance in the sky, the life of the city rising.

This is something I’ll miss. The lights, the music dancing off the buildings, the busy streets. I want more time to enjoy this, but I know it can’t be forever. I can’t live a life that isn’t mine. I want to be free so bad, all the way.

I’m free to do what I want within the penthouse, but nothing beyond that. I’d rather just fall asleep and not wake up.

Memories of my mom flood my mind. Her warm smile, her comforting arms, the brightness she carried into every room no matter the storm that awaited at home. The bad memories flood too, staining my diseased brain.

“Mommy, stop!” My giggles flood the air, her bony fingers tickling my sides, sometimes reaching to tickle my feet. She’s been tickling me for a few minutes after I dared her she wouldn’t. Her slim figure hovered over mine, the widest smile plastered on her face.

“Okay, okay.” Her melodic laugh fills my ears, imprinted in my brain.

“Lily!” My father’s voice booms from down the hall. Her whole body tenses on top of me as I start to hear his boots stomping towards the door. She gets off me quickly, ready to bolt out the door every time he calls her, shielding my view from what’s to come, but she’s not fast enough. My bedroom door opens roughly, and he budges his way in, grabbing her arm forcefully and dragging her out. Her eyes don’t meet mine, but I know she’s scared.

I didn’t see her for the rest of that night. All I heard was her cries from the bedroom, and the sounds of fists hitting flesh. The memory is wired in my brain. I don’t want to remember her that way, but it just won’t leave.

“Moss.” His voice sounds out from behind me. His accent is thick, sounding like he’s pleading, desperate. I look over my shoulder to see him standing there, his shoulders are slumped down. He has his mask on, so I can’t see the emotions on his face, but I for sure hear it. Terrified of what? Of losing me?

Yeah fucking right.

“Please don’t do this,” he begs. Tears brim at my eyes at the tone in his voice. “I’m begging you. I’ll get on my fucking knees.” I open my mouth to say something, but shut it when nothing comes to mind.

He takes a few steps forward, almost standing next to me. “I need you,” he whispers, dropping to his knees, his hands draped limply in his lap and his head hung. I try to calm my racing heart, but nothing works as a few tears escape my eyes.

“I’m sorry I didn’t say it before. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, everything I’ve ever needed, dreamed of. I love you. And I know you don’t love me, but you will. I’ll make you love me. You’re mine.” His voice is laced with vulnerability, getting harder towards the end. While he was talking, he got up and walked right behind me, my head brushing his stomach.