HEALING THE SCARS

CHAPTER 27

PENELOPE

Within an hour or so, we arrive at Joey's home. It's a marvel—a perfect mansion with an air of effortless elegance. The grandeur of it all is overwhelming, but right now, my mind is too scattered to fully appreciate it. I am shown to my room, and the help assists me with unpacking. Mabel and I then head downstairs to join Joey, who is holding a glass of scotch. His face is etched with worry, a deep frown marring his usually composed demeanor.

"Hey babe, what's wrong?" Mabel asks, planting a kiss on his cheek. Her voice is gentle, but there's an undercurrent of concern.

Joey sighs heavily. "I can't believe that even after Dylan swore to me he would never treat Penelope like this, he still did. And now he's called Lindsey to his home after I explicitly told him not to. I'm just so disappointed. This might ruin our friendship, and I can't bear that."

"I know, love," Mabel soothes, her hand resting on Joey's arm. "Just try to relax. It's almost 3 a.m. Let me get Penelope a glass of water and some food. She hasn't eaten all day. Then we can all head to bed and think things through in the morning."

Mabel gets me a glass of water and a small plate of food. I drink half of the water, but the food sits uneasily in my stomach. My emotions are too raw, and I can't seem to muster any appetite. We all go to bed, but I'm far from restful. My phone buzzes incessantly, filled with Dylan's messages. There must be fifty of them, each one a plea for me to come back, an apology, or a scathing accusation. He calls me a coward for leaving him. I can't bring myself to read anymore. I put the phone down and try to sleep, but it eludes me.

It's not until around 6 a.m. that I finally drift into a fitful sleep, waking up at around 9 a.m. I feel somewhat better but still weak. Mabel, Joey, and I sit at the breakfast table, but I'm nauseous at the smell of the fresh bacon. Everything feels overwhelming, from the clamor of the house to the food that I can barely tolerate. I try to eat some omelet but find it impossible to swallow.

"P, what's up? Are you okay?" Joey's concern is palpable.

"I don't know. I'm just not hungry," I reply, my voice barely above a whisper.

"P, you have to eat something, honey. Please don't do this to yourself," Mabel pleads, her voice tinged with worry.

"No, honestly, guys, I'm seriously not feeling well. I think my stomach is just not okay." The urge to vomit overtakes me, and I rush to the bathroom, emptying the contents of my stomach. Mabel follows me, holding my hair back as I throw up.

"Are you okay?" she asks gently, her voice full of concern.

"No, but I feel better now that I've thrown up," I reply, my voice shaky.

Mabel brings me a glass of water after I clean up. "Maybe you should see a doctor. You might be coming down with something."

"It's probably just stress," I say. "I'll rest for now. If I get worse, I'll see a doctor."

Joey and Mabel head off to work around 10, leaving me alone in the house. I stay in my room, attempting to rest, but my body feels weak, and my stomach remains unsettled. I send Joey a text, asking if he could recommend a doctor. Instead, he replies that he will send his personal doctor to the house to check me out. The doctor arrives within the hour and is shown to my room.

"So, tell me, where exactly is the problem?" he asks, his tone professional but kind.

I explain everything in detail, from my lack of appetite to the frequent vomiting. "And have you been eating? Your friend mentioned that you've developed a tendency to not eat, and when you do, you throw up."

"I just don't like food. I try to eat when I can," I say, my voice edged with frustration.

"Okay. When was the last time you had your period?" he inquires.