LIGHTNOVELONLINE This is fine.
One could very well argue that what I was doing on a night like this was... Immoral, at best...
No. Most people would think this absolutely disrespectful.
I get that. But, I honestly don't care enough to stop.
I was dragging a drunk blonde woman whose name I can barely remember to the bathroom (so she wouldn't puke on my sofa), tightly holding her arm, when I recognized a silhouette at the end of the hall. "Hey, Penelope, someone's knocking!"
"My hands are full, as you can see." I stated. "You get it instead." I ordered, raising a hand to the barely recognizable man holding a beer and standing by the entrance.
"Blerghmff-!" The woman's left hand had gone stiff, her body freezing.
"NO!" My eyes widened when her right palm flew to her lips, likely stifling her vomit. "NOT ON MY FLOOR!" I ordered, dragging her to the bathroom as fast as I could.
~
The living room had gotten chillier when I walked back into it, probably because I had less clothing on me now, having forsaken the sweater I wore earlier which was now soggily sitting in my sink, drenched in a stranger's vomit.
"... Whatever," I muttered to myself. "It's fine."
What wasn't too fine was the earful I gave that woman right after she got off me... It's not like she meant to puke on me.
No, whatever, she probably deserved it.
"Is Holly okay?!" The redhead who brought red wine, yelled out.
I could barely make out what she said through the motion of her lips through the blasting music.
Let's assume Holly is the shithead that puked all over my floor.
Also, whose lap is she even sitting in? I could swear it was a completely different guy, like, two minutes ago...
"She's crying in the bathroom right now!" I communicated, checking the time on my phone.
"Oh." She cringed a tad, then went back to talking to the guy.
It was well past 1AM.
I took in a deep breath, straightened my back and brushed a lock of my short brown hair behind my ear as I scanned the room.
Assessing the current situation, I was aware of a messy bathroom floor, a ruined sweater, a dozen college students I barely knew clouding my space, and an apartment (mine) that seemed to have turned into a fucking circus.
How in the world did it come to this?
All hell had broken loose inside of my apartment, and I could barely remember how it all started.
Loud music blasted through the entire place, making the walls vibrate. The lights were dim; and I don't know who it was that brought party lights, but someone did, and I needed to talk to them about it. The entire place reeked of sweat and alcohol. The police have probably been called on us by now. And the number of strangers currently existing in this cramped apartment of mine was nothing short of outrageous.
Worst is that the one responsible for this absolute fucking mess was none other than myself.
But it's fine! This is OK.
Everything was under control—in my opinion.
"Hey," I felt a hand on my shoulder, sending chills down my spine. I instinctively stepped back, disconnecting their hand from my shoulder before I turned to them, clenching my fists as I maintained a neutral expression.
... I'm okay with this.
"Are you really okay with this?" The person asked. He was another unrecognizable invitee.
"Hm? What's up?" I mustered up a pleasant expression.
"Your mom died yesterday." He stated, blankfaced.
Something inside my chest shrank at the sound of his words.
"Are you okay with this shitshow?" He pointed to the entire room with his chin. "Didn't you have her funeral, like... This morning?"
The stranger's words echoed through the room.
Initially, I thought the echo was all in my head. But the silence lasted for too many seconds, making me look around, only to find out that I had gained a quiet audience.
The music had stopped.
Everyone heard that.
"I..." I blinked, struggling to move my hands up to cross them.
No. This is fine. I reminded myself. I'll be alright. I only have to get through tonight.
"Of course." I shared their gaze, fighting the tears rushing to my eyes. "Dwelling on sad stuff was never really my thing," I stated as confidently as possible, trying my best at a smirk as I grabbed the wine bottle the redhead brought along and banged it lightly with the can of beer the stranger held.
The silence we shared as I awaited his response was crushing.
"... Well, cheers I guess," he chuckled, gulping down the drink while I sipped straight from the bottle.
Wait, who opened this thing?
Everyone started talking again, making me sigh of relief. I turned to the music player, hoping to go turn it back on. But suddenly, the sound of loud shattering resonated to my left.
In my mother's room.
"Jake, what the hell!" A man laughed.
Intuitively, I headed towards the noise. I left the lounge and strode across the narrow corridor, noticing that the door to the room was slightly open. I closed in, heeding whatever discovery I would be making as soon as I opened the door wider.
"Shit, I didn't do it on purpose..."
I pushed the door, finding two men standing by the nightstand, while a girl sat cross-legged on the bed, a phone stuck to her cheek.
"What happened?" I walked in, making them both turn to me.
And who the fuck let them in here?
The one laughing was looking at his friend with a mischievous grin, while the latter was kneeling, shuffling around with something on the ground.
"Jake broke a picture frame." He pointed down to his friend.
"Dude..." His friend threw him an annoyed look.
"He was making fun of how you looked in this picture." He chuckled, playfully pushing his friend with his knee. "Karma got him before you did." He laughed.
A picture frame?
"Hey, Penelope, don't listen to him." The culprit stood back up, a broken wooden frame in his palms. "I would never make fun of you." He looked down, stifling a laugh.
There was an Alder wood frame in this room? And that picture... A green eyed kid with terribly cut bangs in a white blazer with a broken plastic stethoscope around her bruised neck, and... and a woman with big curls and the expression...
"It had a post-it on it," The friend said, extending me the picture and a green sticky note to me.
"Is this... her?" Jake looked down at the photo, taking it out of the frame. He dropped the piece of textured wood and its shattered glass to the ground and handed me the picture.
This a new design. It rocks, no? I made it, so better take it to your dorm and show your friends!
- Love, Ma
My hand flew to my eyes, wiping off the tears before they fell.
Crying in front of these strangers, I can't let myself be humiliated like that...
The frame in question was on the ground, torn into pieces. I could barely even tell what design she spoke of through its remnants.
"Hey," one of the two extended their hand to touch my shoulder. "I'll buy you a new—"
"Don't fucking touch me." I held a palm up, teeth gritted.
I couldn't help but glare at the guy, eyes teary and face burning up. My insides felt like they were ablaze.
"You fucking moron!" I yelled. "How could you bre—!?" My voice broke, silencing my anger. I huffed, chest going up and down.
"Hey, maybe you should sit down for a bit," The friend looked at me with worried eyes. "You're, like, shaking..." He pointed to my hand.
The picture he handed me was crumpled inside my shaky palm.
Throwing the two warning glares, I turned away from them. The breaths leaving my chest were quickening, and my senses were getting duller by the second.
Anything I heard seemed to echo. Everything I saw was shaky.
"Who turned off the music!?" Someone yelled from the living room, turning it back on.
"Anyway," the girl sitting crosslegged on my mother's bed, shoes still on, continued talking on her phone. "Of course, I told him to come..."
I made my way out, traversing the corridor leading up to the living room despite how everything seemed to spin. The unrecognizable faces, the loud giggling, the water faucet running in the bathroom, the shutter sounds from my room, which had me throw a dizzy look towards it, only to see a woman sitting on my bed, taking selfies with the wooden figurine collection I made everyone swear not to touch all towering on her lap.
Standing in the middle of the living room, surrounded by waves of noise, the room was spinning quicker and quicker the more breathless I became.
Fuck... I want to believe that everything is fine... That this is what I'm supposed to be doing... But I'm suffocating.
I made it to the speakers and tore off the cable, barely able to stand in my heels.
Upon my action, both the speakers and the attendees went quiet.
I let out a tense breath, shakily looking up at everyone whose gaze landed on me in confusion.
"What's—"
"Leave," I tensely whispered, eyes on the ground. "Leave."
"What?"
"We can't hear you..."
"Everyone..." I looked around the room, eyes widening. "All of you. Get the fuck out of my house."
"Hey," the redhead got off the couch, trying to walk up to me. "You can't just—"
"GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE." I yelled, making her flinch. "NOW!"
~
A phone was vibrating on the ground. The same cold and hard ground on which I sat, legs crossed, blankly gazing at the full-length mirror hanging on the wall across the room.
I think I'm in the living room.
I looked around, noticing the familiar large wooden carved plane sitting on the shelf in the corner. And to my left... This old wooden bookshelf.
Yup, I'm in my apartment. And that's me.
I watched myself through the mirror's reflection.
A lifeless thing, sitting against a dirty sofa, under the large window through which the moonlight seeped in. Mascara stained both sides of her cheeks. Her newly curled neck-length brown hair had gone back to its straight form, with more than one strand stuck to the tears wetting the two sides of her face, and to her left were a pair of beat-up black heels.
In her right hand was a bottle of red wine, half emptied.
"Heh," I raised it, making a toast with the reflection of myself in the mirror. "Sad little bitch."
I chugged down the liquid, not caring enough to acknowledge the taste, my attention stolen by the absolute mess currently surrounding my limp and exhausted self.
Just a few hours ago, this place looked, sounded, and reeked of compelled delight.
People I barely knew, charging in clothed in all black, equipped with all sorts of beverages, ready to spend a crazed night at my house.
What the fuck was I thinking...?
Compared to the explosion of lights and clangor that this place had been earlier, its silent, shadowy, and lonely state now was as comforting as it was pathetic.
The phone rang again, and I finally threw a look to the side, setting the bottle down before I picked it up.
Caller: "Sad Bitch."
"Here's another one," I muttered, sliding my index on the phone to hang up.
6 Missed Calls
I put the phone close to my lips. "Give UP," I said, before throwing it back on the ground.
I grunted, patting my puffy eyes and tucking the short hairs stuck on my cheeks behind my ear.
"Hello?" A faint voice resonated through the room. "Penelope? Penelope, talk to me!" The voice implored.
I looked up, vision groggy. "God...?" I asked, eyes droopy.
My heart sank.
"...Ma?" I called, nearly afraid of the word, propelling myself forward and getting on my knees.
"Answer the damn phone...! Please!"
My shoulders dropped down once I identified the voice's origin, and I flopped back against the sofa.
I answered the call without meaning to. Great.
"... What do you want?" I asked, fighting the urge to hang up in her face.
"Penelope! Where are you!? Where did you go?!"
"Home," I stated, shaking my head in annoyance.
She's asking to reprimand me again. I can't be feeling relieved like this.
She doesn't deserve that.
"How...! Are you okay?!"
I opened my mouth to speak, but the words were caught in my throat. Tears slipped off of my eyes, making me shake my head.
"It's because I'm drunk..." I muttered.
Right. It wasn't because of the warmth that had invaded my heart at the sound of her question.
"I've been knocking for so long. Why aren't you opening the door if you're home?!" She sounded aggravated—just her usual self.
KNOCK KNOCK.
"Oh." I hung up the phone.
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.
"I'm coming. Chill." I mumbled, helping myself stand by hanging onto the bookshelf to my left.
Looking at the filled bookshelf, a certain book spine caught my gaze. A vintage cover, dusty and overwhelmingly familiar.
Naturally, I reached out to grab the book, grinning softly at the name plastered on its shiny black cover.
Wholeheartedly Yours.
Despite my wobbly vision, I could still comprehend the font.
"This thing..." I couldn't help but feel nostalgic, holding the rough cover in my hand.
I missed this it. The last time I recited it was nearly a decade ag—
KNOCK KNOCK.
I flinched.
Right. My guest.
The furniture, now misplaced thanks to bad decisions, looked shaky through my eyes. Even the walls seemed to move back and forth as I made my way to the entrance, barefooted.
I swung the door open, barely able to keep my balance, putting on my best business smile.
"Hey," I grinned, meeting the brown gaze of my visitor.
Harper McCullin.
My friend of 17 years, in her funky pajama pants, wearing a grey cloak over it, her brown curly hair ruffled, and her eyes pretty much as puffy as mine.
"I know my boyfriend cheated on me with you." She glared before I took another breath.
My eyes went wide, and the warmth in my chest suddenly became overbearing. It felt as though I had been slapped in the face.
Right. I had forgotten. Harper was my ex-best-friend, of 17 years.
"And at this point, I'm not even mad about it." Her gaze was sharp, intense. "I don't even know why I bothered coming here. After everything..." Her brown eyes were shadowed with resignment. "You're still you. The same selfish, heartless, canniving little shit."
Those words, for whatever reason, made my heart clench.
"But what the fuck were you thinking? I can't wrap my head around it...!" She slammed her palms on her forehead, as if she couldn't make sense of things. "Tonight, of all nights? Really?!" Her words rang down the hall outside. "Just... What is wrong with you?!" She frowned, her expression teetering on disgust.
I could still feel the rough hardcover under my fingertips... If only I could use it to bash her head in.
I clenched my fist, my grin fading.
"Leave," I simply huffed, shoulders slumping. "I'm not in the mood to argue with you right now." I grabbed the doorknob, swinging the door closed.
But before it could fully lock out her persistent glare, something had interjected its close; her foot.
"Why?" She held it open, I could hear her bitter smile. "You were in the mood to throw a whole-ass fucking party just two hours ago?"
Before I could defend myself, she had pushed the door open, making me jerk my head towards her in bewilderment.
"Just know that I only came here for your mom." She spat. "Otherwise, you couldn't pay me to look you in the eyes after everything that's happened. Got it?" She stabbed my chest with her index, then grabbed me by the wrist. "Now, shut the fuck up and follow me."
"Let go." I prompted, trying to pull away.
Disregarding my order completely, she led me out of the house and closed the door. She threw a disgusted glare back at me.
"You reek of alcohol." Her nose was scrunched up, making me press my lips together.
"That's rich coming from you." I countered, rolling my eyes. "You reek of cigarettes."
Harper shot me a sidelong glance, her mouth opening like she wanted to rip into me, but she stopped short. She let out a sharp breath through her nose, voice tight and bitter. “You’re lucky I came at all.”
I scoffed, feeling the dirty, cold ground of the hallway under my bare feet. I couldn't even get my shoes.
I can't even find it in me to retaliate.
We breezed along the other apartment doors, heading towards the exit of the building.
"Where are we going?" I asked, giving in to her pull. I looked up, watching the back of her head as I waited for a reply that never came.
At least I wouldn't be sobbing in my apartment alone if I went with her... right?
As soon as we were out of the building, the smoke-filled air of my neighborhood seeped into my system, jerking my senses awake. We crossed the street, headed for Harper's white Toyota Yaris. Her car was poorly parked under a flickering light pole, beside a graffiti filled wall.
"Get in the car." She ordered, swinging the backdoor open, a hand on her hip as she did. Despite the lousy orange light under which we stood, I could discern that 'I'm so done with you' look of hers.
It had been so long since I last saw it. Her thin eyebrows were brought together, her mouth unthinkingly pouting, her brown eyes glaring and her hair so disheveled it made her look comical.
I couldn't help but chuckle at it, feeling a slim bit nostalgic as I hopped into the car.
Seven months.
We hadn't seen each other in seven months.
The last time I saw her was such a shitshow, too. We were at the police station. She was crying, I was crying, and her injured shithead boyfriend just stood there silently. I had begged her to hear me out but to no avail. That night, Harper, my best friend of 17 years had officially decided to cut me off.
I leaned back onto my chair, shooing away the giddiness that slowly filled my chest at the familiar smell of her dusty car seats, and the smell of the pungent lemon flavored air freshener hanging on the rearview mirror.
"Put your seatbelt on." A hoarse voice spoke out, making my smile drop instantly as chills ran down my spine.
Suddenly, the air in the car felt nonexistent.
My eyes shot up, slowly registering that a third person was sitting in the car with us. A man. He had short blonde hair, black framed thick glasses, and a slimy, disgusting little grin on his face as he turned around to look at me.
"How—" The moment he opened his mouth, I shot up, bumping my head into the car's ceiling.
"Stop the car." I demanded, glaring at Harper through the rearview mirror.
With dark under-eye bags, puffy eyes, and an annoyed expression, Harper let out a sigh.
"Drop the act already." She said, making tears rush to my eyes as I flopped back down. "At least for tonight, do what you're told, Penelope." She spun the wheel, readying to take a left turn.
We're heading to his house.
They're still together.
She brought him along.
She brought him with her on the day of my mother's funeral.
She put me in the same car with him.
For a moment, my mind could not comprehend the cruelty of this situation, its painful irony. In helpless and confused quiet, I watched the empty road outside.
I turned to Harper with the remaining slither of hope in my heart.
Staring into her lovely browns, I caught a sight that made me unable to hold onto my tears. Through the mirror, I glimpsed a familiar gaze, a shade of brown carved into the back of my mind, a soul that once intertwined with my very own.
Yet... that soulmate of mine was now gazing at me with such loathing I could hardly breathe.
The sheer level of anger and spite I caught through her teary eyes made my soul shiver and my heart tighten. Tears were streaming down my face as I disconnected from it.
I pressed my lips together and curled my shaky palms.
"STOP THE FUCKING CAR!" I banged on the window, making the two jump. "HARPER!"
"Yo, what the fuck?!" Benjamin, that devil incarnate, turned around and reached out.
Memories I thought I had forgotten arose.
Before the flashing scenes in my mind could paralyze my body; before I could think and completely out of breath, I swung the book I forgot I even held anymore at his face. He let out a pained scream and turned away to hold his face.
I flung the door open, sharing one last broken look with Harper through the rearview mirror before I jumped out of the moving car.
"PEN-" She couldn't complete her sentence before I landed onto the concrete.
Thanking whatever force it was that helped me stand on my feet as I made it out, with a surging pain in both of my ankles, I took a sharp, cold breath in, trying to regain my balance.
I ran away, ignoring the loud calls for my name, because I could see a highway with few cars in the distant night. And I knew being far away from these people was the only thing that could help me breathe again.
Clutching the book in my hand, ignoring the harshness of the ground under my feet, I rushed towards it.
I'm going home.
I'm so fucking done.
I looked up at the few misty clouds floating in the darkened sky, now hiding the moon. I bit my lips, taking in sharp and rapid breaths.
Why did I trust her again? How could I let myself be in this situation... Again.
"I'm such a fucking idiot." I bit my bottom lip, feeling a sharp sting on it and a liquid emerging from the injury.
Suddenly, the night's dim disappeared, and all I could see was light. I looked down quickly, eyes widening at the sight that greeted me.
A loud honking echoed through the night, and before I completely registered what the vehicle heading towards me at a deathly speed was, I was already in the air.
I couldn't feel much, as I limply lay on the ground. Cheek on concrete, I listened to the muffled screams around me and watched the blood from my head form a pond around me, staining the shiny black book sitting a few inches away from my head, open.
I could die right now.
My surroundings got darker by the moment.
But the thought of death didn't faze me much. I came close to it too many times for it to scare me anymore.
I'm stronger than this.
I'll be fine.
Harper had stopped the car in a frenzy. She had gotten out to check up on her friend after she ordered her anxious and feral husband to stay in the car, at the top of her lungs.
Harper's had a terrible feeling about it all. That was why she came to check up on Penelope in the first place.
She thought herself numb to the entire situation. She truly hoped she was. But she was crying as she looked around in a craze for Penelope.
She wasn’t outside. Penelope was running in the other direction in full force, barefoot in the dead of night, like the crazy woman that she was.
The night sky was sprinkled with glowing white, stretching into the distance. And there she was; a girl Harper thought she could never meet again, clothed in black and slowly merging with the night sky. For a split moment, that had been the painting.
Harper started running in hopes of catching up with her Penelope. She yelled her name out, but she didn’t hear.
Recognizing that one of the white dots in the distance was getting bigger by the second, Harper screamed louder. Still no reaction.
Eyes wide open at the white dot that had turned into a vehicle with a passed-out driver, she opened her mouth to bellow Penelope’s name as loud as she could, but what came out instead was a scream at the sight of her best friend's body being flung in the air.
She didn’t have the guts to go closer to it.
She stopped in her tracks and shakily took out her phone. Benjamin was running to the scene in terror.
A shaky hand held Harper's phone to her ear while she waited for the ringing to stop, a second hand on her belly.
Her eyes temained fixated on the bloody scene, never blinking, hollow and shaky.
“911... yes, there is something I'd like to report.”
Penelope Horne:
Birth: January 21st year 1997.
Death: September 12th year 2024.
Day 1: Start
The familiar scent of aged wood gently tickled my nose, prompting me to open my eyes. Silence enveloped the room as my gaze cautiously wandered.
For a moment, I was lost between consciousness and the lingering haze of... what?
The chamber boasted a lofty ceiling adorned with intricate hand-carved designs from marble and dark stone. The windows lined the walls, wide yet small in length and placed too high to allow any view of the land. Nothing but the sunlight and the clear blue of the sky outside could filter through.
My legs were swollen, bare, and sore, planted firmly on the chilled white marble floor. My hands pressed against a sturdy ebony desk-like stand before me. I tried to shift, only to feel the cold bite of iron around my wrists. Shackles. What the fuck.
I breathed in and out, attuned to the calm and rhythmic rise and fall of my chest as I breathed.
Okay. I think... I think I'm alive.
My pulse quickened in disbelief. After everything—after that—I’m still here.
What a relief.
“Lady Hiba, would you care to elucidate the nature of your association with Lady Penelope Ashdown, past or present?” A voice broke me out of my stupor, making me jerk my head towards it.
Lady?
Surveying my surroundings, I realized I was in what seemed to be a traditional courtroom.
Uh... What?