Page 78 of In For a Penny
I clutch my head in my hands.
Please, God, no more.
I rub my eyes with the heels of my hands. They hurt from crying. I rub my temples with my fingers in a circular motion. I have a migraine. I swing the covers off me and get out of bed. My body aches. Every movement, every second, of every day for the past three days has been pain. The slightest action causes a flashback to pop into my head and puts me in a tailspin. The smallest wrong movement can make my body ache and remind me of all the places he physically restrained me. Every time something like that happens, I start to cry inconsolably for hours. So, I’ve been avoiding all human interaction.
Another shower. I need another shower.
I force myself out of bed and walk to the bathroom when I hear a knock on my door.
Odd. Usually whoever wants to come into the building has to be buzzed up.
I pad weakly to the door and peek through the peephole.
Shit.
It’s Oliver.
I consider not opening the door. I consider staying in here forever.
I don’t want him here. I don’t want him to know. I don’t want him to blame himself. I want to get past it.
“I know you’re there, Penny. I can hear you crying from the other side of the door.”
Oh. I didn’t even realize I had started again.
“Open the fucking door.”
I choke back a sob. “Now’s not really a good time, Oliver. Can you come back later?”
He starts pounding hard on my door, and I wince. “Please stop that!” I cover my ears, squeezing my eyes shut.
“Open the fucking door! You’ve been MIA since Friday night. You didn’t even come to class today. Just tell me what’s happening. It’s not like you to ignore everyone’s messages and calls. Did you think no one would notice?”
Honestly, yes.
I take a beat.
“I know you stood Josh up,” he says, voice low. “And I know you’ve been ghosting your girls’ group chat all weekend.”
It’s true. Jane and Chloe kept texting me to meet up, but I had flat out ignored their invitations. Last I’d checked, Jane had sent me aWhere in the world is Carmen San Diego?meme.
If I don’t let Oliver in, he might suspect something is really wrong and press until I crack. If I open the door, maybe I can play it off as a sickness. Maybe I can tell him I have the flu or something, or the whole Austin-dating-Claire thing—which now seems so stupid in comparison.
“Come on, Penny, please?”
“Are you alone?” I ask.
“Yes,” he sighs, exasperated. “Just open the door.”
I take a deep breath, bracing myself. I wipe the tears from my eyes and try my best to clean myself up, quickly knotting my hair into a high bun at the top of my head. I’m sure I look like shit.
Oh well.
I open the door to let him in, but Oliver doesn’t move. He’s gaping at me, eyes wide in disbelief. He’s pale, staring, taking me in. I can’t even begin to imagine what I look like. I’ve been crying for three days straight, haven’t eaten since Friday afternoon, and my sleep schedule has been fucked.
“What…what happened? Are you alright?”
“I’m super,” I say, voice flat. I walk away, leaving him in the doorway, but he still makes no movement to walk into the apartment. It’s like he knows something horrible happened, and he’s not ready to face it yet. “I was actually just about to shower, so I can’t talk for long.”
