Chapter Text
“Do you really think that someone would want to read your lame little stories? You should get a grip and do something useful with your life, Penelope. Nobody is interested in what you, of all people, have to say.”
“Dad had always encouraged my writing…”
“Him and his stupid fondness for your reading affection. If he only had died sooner than you wouldn’t study that useless literature stuff. But now I have a saying in this household and as long as you live under my roof, you’re using your mere intelligence for something that brings money that I don’t have to keep feeding you. Stop that in an instance or make up your mind to pay our tuition fees by yourself.”
Penelope lost complete track of time over her current story as her mother burst into her room. Portia was never a fan of her growing library and her free time spent with her laptop. Even before her time at uni for her master’s degree, reading and writing was her escape from the real world.
When she felt overwhelmed and helpless.
When the problems of the real world strangled her and there was no light at the end of the tunnel.
When she got bullied in school and felt alone in the world.
When her mother went on and on about her doing nothing in this household or that she would never achieve anything while her sisters went to get their nails done.
When her father was on a business trip and not there to protect her.
The fictive world she created was her lifeline.
Happy families, successful careers, amazing friends and a great love story.
The protagonists of her stories had it all, at least in the end.
They were brave and witty,strong and independent, even if they didn’t need to be.
They had friends, when they felt alone.
They had a family that had their backs.
All risks turned into great opportunities.
Their way led them to their soulmate.
Not like that love and success just happened.
Love is something you decide on and fight for.
Soulmates were individuals on their own but creating something magical, when they were together, supporting and complementing each other. Puzzle pieces that fit together and all those other cheesy metaphors. You name them. That’s what it should be. And when you create it, everything is possible.
It’s not like that Penelope was missing all of this in her real life. Her father had her back, encouraged her to apply to the English Lit program and managed her whole tuition in advance, gifted her a hardcovered copy of her first book, which she wrote in secondary school, to remind her to reach for her goals.
Her best friends, Colin and Eloise, loved her to the bone.
For better, worse, and when it hurts, in sickness and in health.
But her father died early this year. Colin was in Oslo at the moment for work and Eloise started her exchange term at Edinburgh University to spend more time with Fran.
So right now, she was alone.
Crying over the last breakout of her mother and nowhere to go.
But if the sky falls down
And takes my heart away.
“You wanted me to be here!” She muttered to herself. “I don’t even want to be here. And my thesis is nearly finished anyway.” Her mom had begged her to come home for the term Eloise’s away when Pen struggled to find a flat on her own with her flatmate gone. The disaster was inevitable.
In no time she shuffled her laptop, a pile of clothes and other stuff in a huge tote bag and ran down the stairs, out of her home. Just out.
Is there a flight to Oslo at this time of the day?
Through her tears she watched down the street to her left and to her right, the streetlights reflecting on the dampened pavement in the dark. She didn’t realise how late it already was or how the temperature dropped after this golden autumn day. Pen wrapped her arms around herself to stop her from shivering. Where could she go this close to midnight? Finally her eyes gazed directly across the square. There was a light in the kitchen of this house in front of her. Her feet moved before she could think about it.