Be My Juliet [on hold]

Chapter 28

*Phil’s POV*

Pen lies on my bed, her body curled up tight as she hugs the pillow that’s smothering her face.  I place my hand on her back, gently trying to soothe her as she’s crying almost uncontrollably now.  “I’m s-sorry I’m like this,” she mutters through sobs.

“It’s okay, love.  I’m here; it’s okay.”  I pull a blanket over her as I think it may help her feel more comfortable.  I start trying to think of what to say to make her feel better.  I continue rubbing her back, going through my next words in my head so that I don’t accidentally say something wrong.  “Do you want to talk about the fight?”

She slowly rises away from her balled-up position, and asks if she can borrow my computer.  I hand it to her, tapping in the familiar pattern of my pass code so that she can actually use it.  She places it in her lap, and spends around two minutes on it before spinning it around to show me.  Twitter is up, and she points to a specific tweet.  “In short, this.” She sinks back down, curling up under the covers this time.  I quickly read the little mass of text, and note that it’s by her friend James.  The James.  The one that Dan has been freaked out over for weeks now.  The Romeo James.  The one that Dan is convinced Pen will leave him for.  Obviously this tweet just destroyed him.

“But, this is a lie, right?”

“Of course it’s a fucking lie!” she yells, turning to rest her head in my lap.  She’s crying again, so I stroke through her hair.  “He doesn’t believe me.”

“He just really loves you, Pen.  He’s been so worried that you’d dump him for James.  Even though we both know it’s not true, he’s been thinking this way for so long…”

“So that gives him the right to call me a slut for-?“

“Wait.  Slow down.  He called you a slut?”  I ask, shocked that Dan would even think to say something like that.  She can’t manage an audible response so she simply nods, turning her face towards my chest to hide it away.  “You’re not a slut, Pen.  It’s okay; Dan was being an idiot.” Again I start combing through her hair, thinking about how I’m going to deal with Dan later.  I understand that he was worried, and that reading the tweet completely and utterly shattered him, but calling his girlfriend a slut?  How could he even think to do that?  Especially since Pen is so sweet and kind and gentle.  I look down at her, stroking her back again, and notice that she’s scratching at her bare arms and scars, seeing as she’s wearing a tee shirt for the first time ever.  “Don’t do that; they’ll open up.” I tell her, taking her hand and interlacing her fingers with mine.  The one thing I won’t let her do is hurt herself because of this.

“Phil, can I tell you something?” she asks, sitting up slowly.

“Anything.”  We lock eyes before either of us utters another word. 

She inhales, probably to prevent any sobs from escaping, and then starts speaking again.  “I know this is bad.  Just let me finish, okay?”  I nod, and she continues.  “W-when I was fifteen, this older boy named Michael asked me out.  On the first date, he kissed me, but I pushed him away.  I told him to stop, and to not talk to me again,” she pauses, making sure that she wouldn’t cry again.  “He, uh… made up some terrible things about me to impress his friends.”  She stops again, closing her eyes and exhaling to calm herself down.  A tear trickles down her cheek, but I wipe it away as it is about to collide with her little nose.  She starts itching her arm again as she starts talking.  “Th-they started bothering me in school, asking if everything he’d told them was true, how many other guys I’d slept with, if I’d sleep with them… and then other girls got wind of it.”

“What did he tell them?”

“Basically, that I’d forced myself on him, and that we’d had sex after the first date.  It wasn’t true, obviously, but no one believed me, though.  Other girls made me feel worthless; other guys hounded me for a chance to get in my pants… I tried to set them straight and I just couldn’t.  I-I didn’t know what else to do.  I didn’t have anyone I felt comfortable talking to, and their words were just constantly eating at me; even when I went home, I was thinking about all the people calling me a slut and a whore and one night, I couldn’t deal with it anymore.  That rumor was the reason I started cutting, Phil.”  Now she’s vigorously scratching her arms, and I see little droplets of blood coming to the surface.