HEALING THE SCARS

CHAPTER 24

PENELOPE

It's been a week since I last saw Dylan. Surprisingly, I don't mind. He made it clear to Lindsey that I was just a contract to him, and I've resolved to stay just that—a mere contract. But the decision doesn't come without its own sting. Each night, dinner is served in my room, and each night, I throw it away untouched. I can't bring myself to eat in this house. It feels wrong somehow, like a reminder of how out of place I am.

Every night before bed, I lock my door. It's a small act of self-preservation, a barrier between me and the world outside. Or maybe just between me and Dylan. My days have become a monotonous blur of reading novels, helping Rose with chores, and pretending to be busy on the phone. Anything to pass the time, anything to avoid thinking about him.

But the truth is, I can't stop thinking about him. The way he's so cold, so distant, it makes my chest tighten. It's not that I want him to care—not really—but it's hard to reconcile the way he touched me, made me feel, and the way he ignores me now. I've made a habit of hiding when I hear him moving through the house. I dart into rooms, quietly close doors, anything to avoid him spotting me. And he never bothers to look for me, never calls, never texts, never even knocks on my door. It's like I don't exist to him anymore.

The loneliness is suffocating. It wraps around me like a heavy blanket, making it hard to breathe. I find myself lying awake at night, staring at the ceiling, wondering what I'm doing here. How did I end up in this situation, locked in a house with a man who doesn't care whether I'm here or not? One evening, as I'm curled up in bed with a book, there's a faint noise from downstairs. My heart skips a beat, and I tense up, listening carefully. Footsteps. I know it's Dylan. I can tell by the way the feel of the house is under his presence. For a moment, I wonder if he's coming to find me if he's finally going to acknowledge my existence.

He walks into my room, which I had purposely left open. I wonder what he is going to do and I pretend to be asleep. He walks into my bed and slides in next to me. When his hands graze all over my body I find myself leaning into his touch, desperate for him to take more. I realize how desperate I am but I don't care. I want him, his attention, his everything, even though I know it is all a fairy tale. He proceeds to fuck me ruthlessly and I let him, even though I feel even more empty when he leaves immediately after, no words uttered between us. The loss of his contact has me feeling empty and even more lonely.

I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding, my chest tight with disappointment. I try to shake it off, to remind myself that I don't care, that I'm just a contract. But the truth is, it hurts. It hurts that he doesn't care, that he's perfectly fine with pretending I don't exist. This happens almost every night and it almost becomes a routine. As the days pass, the weight of the silence between us grows heavier. Rose seems to sense the tension. She gives me worried looks, asking me if I'm okay and if there's anything she can do. I always tell her I'm fine, but I know she doesn't believe me. I don't even believe myself.

There's a part of me that wants to break this silence, to march up to Dylan and demand that he acknowledges me. But I'm too afraid. Afraid of what he might say, afraid that he'll confirm my worst fears—that I really am just a contract to him, nothing more. So I keep hiding what I feel, keep pretending that I don't care, and hope that I don't break apart. But every time I see him, every time I hear his voice drifting through the house, it gets a little harder to maintain the facade. The loneliness eats away at me, and I wonder how much longer I can keep this up before I break.

School starts soon for me, and the thought of it brings a mix of anxiety and excitement. Mabel arrived in Pennsylvania with Joey. Despite being so close now, we only managed to meet once when I went out for coffee with her. Over lattes and pastries, I told her about my registration at the school. She listened intently, her eyes lighting up with excitement for me, even though I could tell she was holding something back. She starts her classes the day after mine, and she insists on taking me shopping, wanting to spoil me with money she's saved from our old job.