Pen
My eyelids flicker open, and I blink back the heavy fog of unconsciousness. My muscles feel weak, my throat is dry, and a headache already blooms across my forehead. It takes me another few minutes to have enough strength to sit upright. I groan loudly, my gaze flitting around the dimly lit room as my hands slide over my body. I’m dressed in a loose t-shirt and sweatpants. Something about that doesn’t seem right, but I can’t gather my thoughts enough to figure out why. My fingers creep across the bedding, which is surprisingly soft beneath my hands. The room itself is warmly decorated in jeweled tones, there are canvases covering the walls with art that looks vaguely familiar in my foggy brain. Even though I feel like I’m drunk or high, I know this isn’t a dream just like I know that this isn’t my flat.
Where the hell am I? What am I doing here?
Then, like a spotlight being switched on inside my dark and cloudy thoughts, I remember.
I remember being in the cage at Grim’s club.
I remember dancing.
I remember the girls.
I remember Xeno.
Xeno.
Xeno who told me to trust him, who told me he loved me then stabbed a needle in my fucking neck! My hand lifts automatically to the spot, my fingers pressing against my skin where he’d injected me, and I wince at the phantom pain. Adrenaline rushes through my veins at the memory, followed swiftly by betrayal and anger.
Flipping my legs over the side of the bed, I sit upright. My head goes woozy at the sudden movement and I have to squeeze my eyes shut to force my brain to stop thinking I’m on a rollercoaster. When the feeling passes, I open my eyes and take another good look around me. On the side table next to me is a glass of water and a packet of headache pills with a sticky note fixed to them.
Take these, it will help.
Fuck that. I don’t trust the note or the person who fucking wrote it.
Speaking of which.
A familiar voice draws my attention to the slightly ajar door. Gingerly, I creep forward, my feet padding over the soft carpet. With the side of my body pressed against the wall, I peer out through the crack. At the end of the hallway is an open plan living room. Sitting at a table that separates the kitchen area from the lounge, is Xeno. He’s talking in hushed tones into his phone.
I see red.
Anger like I’ve never felt before courses through my veins as betrayal clogs my throat.
I yank open the door and storm down the hallway into the room ignoring the way my head spins, ignoring the fact that my balance is still off. Thank fuck for adrenaline, otherwise I’d be on the floor in a fucking heap.
Xeno’s eyes widen and he bites out a terse reply before placing his phone onto the table and rushing towards me. “Tiny, fuck, you need to sit down before you fall down,” he says, reaching for me, concern rippling across his traitorous face.
“Don’t you fucking touch me!” I shout, holding my arms out as I stagger sideways, gripping hold of the back of the sofa to steady myself.
“Tiny, let me explain…” His hands drop to his sides and he steps back.
Tears prick my eyes. “Let you explain? Let you fucking explain?! You drugged me. You stabbed me with a needle and knocked me the fuck out, Xeno! You stole hours of my life. Why would you do that? Why would you fucking hurt me like that?”
My body shakes so hard that my teeth start to chatter, and my skin covers in a sheen of sweat, instantly cooling my heated, enraged heart until it’s ice cold. I want to throw up. But there’s nothing in my stomach, so I just heave and gag instead. I double over, retching, with nothing to show for it but a burn in the back of my throat that matches the sting in my eyes.
“It’s okay, you’re safe,” Xeno says softly, but there’s the slightest hint of an edge to his voice as though he doesn’t quite believe that either. It’s as though the softness of his tone is covering up how he truly feels. When he presses his hand against my lower back, I feel the tension he holds, and the lies burn a tattoo into my skin.
“Safe?” I hiss, forcing myself upright and backing away from him even though a small part of me wants to step towards him, but fuck that. Just because he says I’m safe doesn’t mean it’s true. Xeno asked me to trust him, and then knocked me out. How can I trust him now? Who the fuck does that to someone they supposedly care about? “Don’t you dare lie to me!”
“Sit down. Let me explain.” There’s a pained look on his face, and I see how his hands shake, how he curls his fingers into fists trying to suppress whatever’s eating him up inside. “I won’t hurt you.”
I bark out a laugh. It sounds thready, broken. “Again, lies! I see you. I fucking see you, Xeno,” I shout, my gaze falling on his fists, at the veins bulging beneath his forearms like any minute now he’s going to lose his cool and show me the man underneath the mask.
He shakes his head, his nostrils flaring as he uncurls his fingers and shakes out his hands. “Don’t make this harder than it already is. Sit down,” he orders, pulling out a chair at the table.
“Where am I?” I snap, ignoring his request and looking wildly around me. Hanging on the wall above the fireplace is another huge painting similar in style to the one in the bedroom, the bold colours and style familiar even though I don’t know why that is right now. My head’s still too foggy, my thoughts disjointed.
“If you calm down, I’ll tell you.”
“Don’t fucking patronise me, Xeno,” I snap, forcing myself to look at him.
He watches me carefully, his bottle-green eyes glinting like cut glass. The shards deep enough to cut. He always knew how to make me bleed, this is no different. Without even saying a word he hurts me, and I’m done with it.
“Tell me where the fuck I am!” I shout, my hands grabbing hold of the beige sofa behind me, a fine-knit throw chucked across it. My fingers curl into it and I have the urge to pick it up and wrap it around my shoulders. This place is luxurious, homely, warm, but I just feel cold, afraid, uncertain. I let go of the material. “Did you think that bringing me here would lull me into a false sense of security? That I would lower my guard because I hadn’t just woken up in some dingy cellar somewhere tied to a fucking bed? Did you assume that I would relax because there are photos of happy, smiling people I don’t recognise lined up across that fireplace?” Even the familiar smell of coffee feels like a trap. My eyes track across the kitchen countertop behind him where four mugs are sitting, heat rising.
“No, that isn’t what I thought, but if you want, I can take you to a fucking basement and tie you to a bed if that would make you fucking listen to me!” he snaps back, forcing me to look at him once more.
“I bet you’d like that wouldn’t you, huh? I’d bet you’d like me at your mercy. ”
He growls at that. A deep rumble rising up his throat. “You have no idea what you’re saying.”
“No? Then why are you looking at me that way? Why do I get the feeling that you’re a second away from proving me right, that I’m not safe? That I’ll never be safe with you.”
Xeno sucks in a breath through his teeth as he takes another step closer. “Because I love you that’s why,” he roars. His fingers curl into a fist as he thumps his chest. It makes me jump a little at the ferocity of it. “Tiny, I fucking love you.”
His voice is gravelly, coarse, as though saying those words is difficult, agonising. I guess I have to agree because they’re just as painful to hear. My stupid treasonous heart squeezes inside my chest, and my body sways towards him. It would be so easy to walk into his arms, but self-preservation kicks in and I listen to my head instead this time.
“Love me?” I scoff. “Don’t tell me that you love me after what you did.”
He scrapes a hand over his face. “I did it to keep you safe,” he repeats, firmly, without an ounce of apology or regret. He widens his stance as though he expects my anger to turn physical, like he’s preparing for it. “You were in danger, Pen, and you can bet your arse that I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”
“Tell me something I don’t already know, Xeno.” I hiss, my stupid fucking heart hating that he’s stopped calling me Tiny. “When have I not been in danger? I’ve spent my whole life as a target for people who want to hurt me. You included. You could’ve fucking warned me about this sudden danger. You could’ve called me and told me something was up. You could have told one of the others if you didn’t want to speak to me. I spilled my guts to you, Xeno. I trusted you with my truth and you disappeared without a word and with no fucking explanation.” He opens his mouth to respond, but I hold my hand up preventing him from speaking. “Then you turned up out of the blue and danced with me. You gave me hope that we could fix us, only to do what you did. You. Hurt. Me.”
He flinches. “I deserve that. I deserve your mistrust and your anger but there wasn’t time to explain. I thought…” His voice trails off as he looks away, a sudden shame burning his cheeks. I know what he’s thinking, and I’d laugh if I wasn’t so angry.
“You thought that by dancing with me it would cancel out what you then did? That I’d be so fucking grateful that you finally deemed me worthy of dancing with that I’d forgive you for knocking me out?”
“No, that’s not what I thought. I wasn’t trying to soften you up, so you’d forgive me the second you woke up. I’m used to making hard decisions, Pen. The fact of the matter is, I wasn’t supposed to do anything until the lights went out. I was supposed to wait, but I let my fucking emotions get the better of me. You were so fucking beautiful, so powerful up on that stage. I was fucking entranced, drawn to you like a motherfucking moth to a flame. Before I knew what I was doing, I was holding you in my arms. I thought I’d be strong enough to keep myself in check, but I couldn’t fight it anymore. I couldn’t fucking fight it anymore, Tiny.”
“Couldn’t fight what?”
“Your pull. Jesus fucking Christ! Don’t you get it. I’ve been battling for years now,” he exclaims, pulling at his hair as though the truth is too much to bear. Maybe it is. Maybe that’s always been the problem. I make him feel things he never wanted to feel. Love shouldn’t be this difficult, should it? Only between us, it is. It always has been.
“Why fight it?” I whisper. It’s a question he doesn’t hear, or if he does, he can’t answer right now. I’ve never understood why he’s always held back. Nothing is any clearer now that he’s admitted his love for me. It doesn’t make me feel any better knowing that he loves me.
“Even before when we were kids, I fought against my need to have you until the others persuaded me to give us a chance. I did that, then you ran off, and I felt my whole fucking world give way. Everything went to shit because of—”
“Me?” I interrupt, feeling as though he’s just stabbed that fucking needle straight into my heart and pumped a syringe of air into me, the organ ready to burst under the pressure. I need to get away from him. It’s suddenly hard to breathe. “Unbelievable. I’m fucking out of here,” I say, choking on the words. Spinning on my feet, I head towards a set of stairs that appear to lead downwards and hopefully to the exit. I’m torn up inside. His words make me want to both hold him and slap him. I don’t know what the fuck to do, or where the fuck I am, but I don’t give a shit. I want out. I will fight him to get out of wherever the hell I am.
I don’t get very far.
Xeno grabs my arm and spins me around, hauling me up against him roughly. My hands press against his chest automatically and I can feel the frantic thump of his heart beneath my palms. Raising my hand, I slap him hard against his cheek, the biting sting on my palm doing nothing to tame the anger I feel.
Heat flares in his gaze and his grip tightens. Despite his bruising touch, I can’t help but remember how it felt to finally dance with him. How perfect we moved together. How right it was. This anger between us now feels wrong and yet, I can’t stop feeling this way. I swallow hard and square my shoulders, pushing off his chest and straining against his hold as my fingers curl into fists, scrunching his t-shirt in my palms. He won’t let me go though. He slides one arm around my back whilst the other clasps the back of my head. Tugging on my hair, he urges me to look up at him. Our gazes clash, my heated one crashing against the sizzling passion in his.
“You’ve got it wrong. Everything went to shit because of me. I’m not blaming you,” he says through gritted teeth.
“Let me go, Xeno!”
“No!” he responds, almost manic. “Not until you understand. You weren’t responsible for how we’ve turned out. We used you as an excuse to fall deeper into the Skins, but you were right all along, Tiny. We had one foot in the crew way before that night. No one is to blame for that apart from our-motherfucking-selves.”
Narrowing my eyes at him, I refuse to acknowledge the dark circles beneath his eyes or the haggard way he looks. I refuse to see the concern written plainly across his face, or the love. Because what kind of person disappears for a week after you empty your soul, dances with you as though you’re the only person that truly fits—then hurts you that way? Xeno flinches, and it’s only then I realise I actually said that last part out loud.
“I had to do it, and I would do it again. I will not apologise for that.” He proclaims, dropping his gaze from my eyes to my lips. His mouth parts, and for a second I swear he’s going to kiss me. I’m almost ninety-five percent sure I don’t want him to. The other five percent is ruled by my heart, which is currently begging me to lean in and press my mouth against his. “You were in danger, Pen.”
I bark out a laugh, trying not to allow myself to be affected by the fact that he’s referring to me as Pen once again. It’s as though he’s having an internal battle within himself to keep me at arm’s length, by calling me Pen, or hold me close and never let go and calling me Tiny. Given the torn up look in his eyes I’m not certain which side of him is winning. “Yeah, from you!” Pushing at his chest, I force him away. This time he lets me go as his attention focuses on something behind me. Someone.
“You weren’t in danger from Xeno, Penelope.”
