We arrive at the flat later that evening. Dax and Zayn have already brought over mine and Lena’s belongings and put them in Dax’s room. Four boxes each, that’s all we have to our name. Not that it matters. Possessions mean nothing so long as we have each other.
“I thought you’d want to share. For now at least,” Dax says when I enter the room and notice that all of his stuff is gone, replaced with our things instead.
“But where will you sleep?” I ask, chewing on my lower lip as I survey the room.
“With Xeno. York and Zayn fucking snore. I won’t get a wink of sleep with those two bastards.”
“I don’t fucking snore, prick,” Zayn says, bringing in one last bag filled with Lena’s toiletries and makeup. He strides into the bathroom and leaves them on the vanity. “I’d offer to help unpack, but I know girls can be particular about their stuff and where it should go. Besides, I need to shift my shit over to York’s room given Gray has taken mine.”
“He’s staying too?”
“Just temporarily. We’ve asked him to watch over Lena whilst we’re at the Academy all day. It makes sense that he stays here rather than travelling back and forth from his place. The guy’s a closed book for the most part, barely talks, but he’s respectful, courteous, and is a skilled bodyguard according to Beast,” Zayn explains.
“Can we trust him?” I ask, lowering my voice even though the door to the bedroom is shut. “I know he’s been watching over Lena for a while now, but being with her constantly…. I just feel like that’s my responsibility. He’s a stranger to her.”
“Both Beast and Grim vouch for him. Beast has known him for eight years, since he was a kid of twelve. Grim officially hired him two years ago. Neither will go into details about his history but they’re one hundred percent behind him. I trust their word. They’ve proved themselves loyal allies.”
“He’s only our age? He seems older somehow,” I remark.
“Yeah. It can get like that when you’ve grown up in this life,” Dax mutters.
“Hud’s arranging for the tutor to come over once the funeral is out of the way. So Lena won’t be alone with Gray anyway.”
Frowning, I chew on my lip some more, a nasty habit of mine when I’m uncomfortable about something. I know what I’m about to say isn’t going to go down well, but I’ve been going over and over it in my mind and there’s no alternative.
“There’s something I wanted to say,” I begin, but right at that moment my phone pings with an incoming message. Pulling it free from my back pocket, I quickly glance at the screen. It’s another message from Clancy. She’s been desperate to talk with me after Zayn told her what went down when the guys were collecting my stuff from the Academy yesterday, but I’ve been too distracted with Lena to call back and have only managed a couple of quick texts.
“What did you want to say?” Zayn asks as I drop my phone on the bed. I’ll reply to Clancy later.
Dax narrows his eyes at me. “I might not be York, but I know that look, Kid. What is it?”
“I want to be here for Lena, not some stranger she barely knows.”
“You are, Pen, but you’re one person and you can’t do it all,” Zayn points out.
“That’s my point. I’m going to call Madame Tuillard tomorrow. I’m giving up my spot at the Academy—”
For a beat silence descends, then Dax narrows his eyes at me. “The fuck you are!” he exclaims, the sudden fury in his voice making me jump. He strides over to me and grips my shoulders, ducking his head to look me in the eye. “You are not giving up on your dream. No fucking way.”
“It doesn’t seem so important anymore,” I counter, telling him a half-truth in the hope he’ll leave it at that. I shrug my shoulders as though it really doesn’t mean anything to me to leave my dream behind when, truthfully, it absolutely does. It fucking kills me, but it’s nothing compared to this feeling I’m carrying with me now. York was right, I do need vengeance. I may not have loved my mother, but Lena did. David’s broken her. Day by day I’ve watched her withdraw into herself, and I want payback.
I want him dead for what he’s done to her.
Stepping out of Dax’s hold, I start hanging up Lena’s clothes in the wardrobe.
“Fuck that, Pen! Dax is right,” Zayn says fiercely. “You do not let that cunt win. This is what he wants, what he’s always wanted. You do not fucking give up your dream. Hear me?”
Gritting my jaw, I turn to face them both. “What’s the point wasting my time there waiting on David to make his next move when that time could be better spent hunting him down and helping Hudson draw out Santiago. You know I’m right.”
“We can still do all of that, Kid, but you give up dance, the very essence of who you are, and David’s already won. You may as well just offer yourself up to him now and be fucking done with it!” Dax shouts, his eyes blazing with anger. He’s never, not once, shouted at me like this.
“Tell me, after everything that’s happened, what else am I supposed to do, Dax?” I ask beseechingly, needing him to understand.
“You keep fighting, that’s what you do. You keep dancing. You embrace the warrior within you, the one that danced on the table in Tales and brought the four of us to our goddamn knees. You funnel that girl still within you who took the punches and the kicks from that motherfucker and survived them.”
“It’s not as simple as that,” I say, balling my fists.
“It is that simple. You dance. You fight. You win. End of.”
“But how can I dance knowing what he’s done, what he wants to do? How can I carry on like nothing’s happened? Tell me, how?” I ask Dax, begging him to provide me with all the answers he’s so certain of. Dance is a joyful experience for me, even when I use it to work out all of my emotions. I don’t want to feel fucking joyful right now. I want the rage, the anger, the violence.
“You’re still that girl who never lost faith in her dream even when everyone else lost faith in her. You are Pen-motherfucking-Scott. Understand me?”
My shoulders drop. “I don’t know if I am anymore. I’m so full of fucking fear and rage and this feeling of… of violence. I’ve never felt this way before, not even in all the years he beat me,” I hiss, pulling at my clothes, feeling uncomfortable in my own skin. “I’ve always turned to dance to keep me sane, to purge my feelings, but I don’t want to purge this violence. I don’t. If I do, if I let it go then I’ve got nothing left to hold onto and I won’t be able to fight him. I need to fight him,” I retort, anger making my words sharp, deadly.
“You’re wrong. You have us to lean on!” Zayn counters, frustrated at me, at the situation. I don’t blame him, but I can’t help the way I feel. “Let us help you.”
“You are. You’re going to teach me how to fight. To kill,” I spit, hating myself for sounding the way I do. I don’t recognise my own voice and the monstrous violence fuelling it. “What good is dance when all is said and done? It won’t protect me from David. It’s only ever acted as a beacon for his hatred. It brought him here after all.”
Zayn flinches, his nostrils flaring. One minute he’s glaring at me, the next he’s striding across the room and grabbing my hand. “Come with me, right the fuck now.” He doesn’t give me a chance to protest, he simply pulls me from the room throwing a look over his shoulder at Dax. “Get the guys. They’re needed in the studio. Tell Gray to order pizza, put a movie on or something. Have him keep Lena company, keep her occupied whilst we deal with this situation.”
“I am not a situation,” I protest, indignation riling me up further.
“Don’t fucking fight me on this, Pen, or so help me God, I’ll do something we’ll both regret!”
“Zayn, I know what you’re trying to do,” I begin, trying to pry my fingers free of his hold, but he shakes his head and squeezes tighter, refusing to let me go. “I’m not going to change my mind. I’m leaving the Academy.”
“That’s bullshit, Pen!” he seethes, kicking open the studio door so hard it crashes against the wall. I half expect Lena to come running, but I guess she’s still too lost in her own pain to notice what’s going on between us right now and, honestly, that’s a relief. I don’t want to add to her burden.
“Zayn, would you stop!” I trip over my feet in my haste to keep up with him as he maintains a crushing grip on my fingers. Once we’re in the centre of the room, Zayn lets my hand go and with a heaving chest, rounds on me.
“We promised we would help you to learn how to fight, to kill. We’re doing that not because we want to, but because we know you need to feel in control again. I get it, even if I don’t like it, but I’ll be damned if you turn your back on dance because the guilt over what’s happened has messed with your head and twisted you up inside. You are not leaving the Academy.”
“The fuck?!” Xeno exclaims, stepping into the studio at that exact moment. York and Dax follow behind, both staring at me. Dax in anger and York with shock. Xeno glares at me, a mixture of confusion and fury showing on his face.
“I am leaving the Academy,” I repeat, jerking my chin and levelling my gaze at them all. I’m panting now. My chest heaving. I’m so overwhelmed with intense emotion I can barely temper my feelings as I glare at the men I love, all the while hating myself for feeling so screwed up inside. I hate that I’m ruining their dreams as much as my own, but the second I saw those purple fingerprints wrapped around my mum’s throat and her lifeless eyes staring up at me, something fundamental changed within me.
Something snapped.
I broke.
I’m not that girl they loved. Not anymore.
And I’m so fucking mad about it.
I want to tear at the air, at the spectre of David that has always haunted my every waking moment and inhabited my nightmares. He’s always been there in the background, but up until now dance has always kept me steady, countering his presence. Over the years, dance has allowed me to temper the hurt and the pain, the anger and the bitterness. It has kept my soul intact even when my body’s been bruised and beaten, and my heart broken from abuse. It’s kept the spark in me alive.
But that spark is no longer a bright light in a sea of darkness, warming me, soothing me. That spark has turned into a roaring inferno full of rage and violence. By killing my Mum, by fulfilling his promise, David’s taken my coping mechanism, my escape, and twisted it into something unrecognisable.
I don’t want to dance.
I want to kill.
“Pen, you have to listen to us,” Zayn pleads, taking my hands in his. The warmth of his palms seeps into my skin, pulling me out of my thoughts momentarily. I lock gazes with him and shake my head. I’m not stupid, Zayn has brought me into the studio for an intervention. He thinks he can goad me into dancing, that once I succumb to the power of movement that I’ll be okay again, that I’ll change my mind and let them save me. That I’ll go back to the girl he loves. That they all love.
But I can’t.
My need to dance has been replaced with my need for violence. I want him dead. God help me. I want him dead.
Fisting my fingers, I wrench my hands free from Zayn’s hold and swing at the air, throwing a punch at David’s ghost. Zayn steps back, absolute desolation casting a shroud over his features.
“Pen—”
Zayn’s voice is drowned out by the ghost of David’s. I can hear him now. I can hear his voice goading me, taunting me.
“Mark my words, Penelope, you’re going to regret ever fucking me over.”
I claw my fingers, racking them over the apparition before me, wishing for blood and getting nothing but thin air.
“Just know this, Penelope. I’m gonna kill your precious Breakers, then I’m going to kill Lena and then when you’ve lost everyone you love, I’m coming for you. When that day comes, there will be no one left to protect you.”
“NO!” I shout, frantic as I punch and kick. Oblivious to anyone but the phantom taunting me.
Whore. Bitch. Slut. Slapper. Scum.
Worthless.
Little.
Cunt.
All the horrible things he’s ever said to me over the years bombard me now as I punch and kick. Rage and scream. Fury wraps around me and where once dance would have soothed my soul, all I feel is rage. All I long for is his death. And right there in the dance studio surrounded by the men I love, I lose myself to the broiling violence.
