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9
Pen
The first thing I do when I get inside my flat is ring my sister. She answers after the sixth ring, her voice sleepy.
“Who’s this?” she asks.
“It’s me, Pen,” I say, sighing in relief just at the sound of her voice.
“What time is it? Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just checking in—” I flick on the light switch in the bathroom and catch sight of my reflection. I look like shit. No, I lookbroken. I’m far from fine, but she doesn’t need to know that. I’ve always protected her, shielded her from all the shit. Tonight’s no different.
“Pen,” she whines. “You toldmeoff for calling you in the middle of the night. Not cool.”
“Sorry, erm, is Mum home?”
“No. I mean she might be. I’m not there is all,” she whispers into the mouthpiece.
“Where are you?” I ask trying to sound casual but failing.
“At a friend’s house.”
“Which friend?” I ask sharply.
“Stop stressing, Pen! I’m at Simone’s house for the weekend seeing as you’re so busy all the time.” She hesitates a beat. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that.”
A long sigh escapes my lips. “I know you didn’t.”
“I’m fine. I miss you, that’s all. Plus Simone’s taking care of me.”
“Good. That’s good. Ring as soon as you wake up, okay?”
“Alright. Pen—”
“Yeah?”
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Of course I am,” I say brightly, hiding the wobble in my voice. “Love you, Lena.”
“Love you too, Pen.”
“Go to sleep, sis,” I say gently. She clicks her tongue against her teeth in annoyance, but I end the call abruptly so she can’t hear the sound of me falling apart on my bathroom floor.
Sometime later, I’m lying on my bed wrapped up in a towel with wet hair, dried tears on my cheeks and a painful kind of anger that verges on homicidal.
I want to kill Jeb.
I want to murder my brother.
I want to hurt the Breakers as much as they’ve hurt me, and yet…
Confusion wars inside my chest because tonight Dax stepped up. He stood between me and Malik Brov,twice. Zayn apologised, though I’m still uncertain for what or even if that brief moment of connection between us was even real. York had looked at me like he knew something was up, like he finally understood my pain and hated himself for it. Xeno… well, Xeno didn’t do a damn thing, but the look he gave me, that spoke a thousand words. Just words I wasn’t able to interpret. These thoughts sit like a grenade inside my chest. Someday soon the pin is going to be removed and I’ll detonate. Maybe then I’ll finally be at peace or at the very least, dead.
* * *
For the restof the weekend I hide out in my flat, living off the remains of my cheap food and waiting for the world to end. Clancy leaves me various text messages that I ignore. She even knocked on my door this morning, but I didn’t have the energy to face her. It’s Sunday afternoon now and I’m still trying to piece myself back together again. I’ll have some grovelling to do with Clancy, but right now, I don’t have the emotional energy to fake feeling okay when I’m not.
