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But it’s short-lived.
I land on heavy feet and a rush of emotions floods my chest trying to crush me.
“No!” I grunt, refusing to give in.
Jerking my torso to the right, I continue to dance as though my fucking life depends on it. I suppose in some ways it does. Because if I don’t dance, I will seek Pen out and do something I’ll regret. I won’t hurt her that way. I’ve done enough of that already. But what I can say with absolute conviction, is that if Jeb was here now I would kill him with my bare hands. Like the song suggests, I’d find peace in violence. I’d find peace in murdering that motherfucking cunt.
Because Ihavefound peace in violence before.
After Pen walked away, I used violence to control my emotions. The act of violence calmed me, it made me feel numb.
I could live with numbness.
But living like this is torturous, and I need to control this emotion within me before it does even more damage to the one person I need to protect from myself. Lifting my right leg up, I kick out to the side before slamming my foot back down. Sweeping my arms out in a wide arc, I allow my body to follow the motion until I kick off the floor and flip forwards into a series of tumbles. Air rushes past me as the room blurs.
I feel like a leaf dragged up into the vortex of a tornado, twisting, turning, tumbling.
But still it’s not enough.
Reality stills my feet. It drags me back down into the clutches of my emotions that swell, consuming me. My hands rise up my body, my nails digging into the sweaty skin of my chest, my neck, my face, until my fingers curl into my hair and tug. This time a few strands of my hair fall away, dropping from my fingers.
I let out an anguished cry, doubling over as I heave and choke on these feelings.
There’s no peace, no contentment.
“Xeno?”
My whole body stiffens.
Her voice is no more than a soft whisper, a cautionary tale. I hear it. I feel it like a motherfucking bullet to my heart.
The concern. The fear. The empathy. Thelove.
“I’ve never seen you dance like that before,” she says, stepping towards me. I straighten up. Every single part of me pulled taut to the point of snapping.
“Get the fuck out of here, Pen.” I grind out, choking on the words as I glare at the floor. They feel like fucking shards of glass in my throat, slicing my gullet open. They hurt me because they hurt her. Before, I could be cruel because I believed she was my enemy. The words that caused her pain didn’t cut me so deep because I’d convinced myself that she meant nothing to me. It’s different now. All I know is that if she stays in the room, I will lose every last shred of my resolve to hold back, to keep it all in. I have to contain it. Ihaveto. “I need you to go. You're not safe around me right now.”
“No,” she replies firmly. “You're hurting.”
“I can’t stop it.” It’s a warning, one I hope to fuck she hears.
“Thendon’t. Let it go, Xeno. Whatever this is, let it go.”
And that’s when I feel them, the fucking tears. They slide down my face. They aren’t cathartic. They’re not a release. They’re fucking painful, like acid burning into my skin. I’m ashamed of them. I don’t cry.
I. Don’t. Motherfucking. Cry.
The next track begins to play and Emeli Sandé’s songHurtssounds over the speaker system.
Fuck. The beat matches the pounding of my heart and the words fucking speak to my soul.
Loving Tinyhurts. It fucking hurts.
“Don’t,” I snap, holding my hand up and stumbling backwards as she takes a tentative step towards me. This girl. This brave, strong, gutsy, reckless, courageous girl refuses to leave me whilst I fucking break. She loves me despite all the shit I put her through.
“I don’t deserve you.”
“Maybe that’s true, maybe it isn’t. Grim said I should make you work for my love. She wants me to punish you.”
