Her feet kept her moving, up and up, and Penelope found herself before two heavy double doors. Her fingers lifted to the door, and she knocked. He opened it, and she looked up at him.
His chest was bare, his hair tousled, lips parted as he said something, lips she had once kissed and regretted, a guilty pleasure that had been re-enacted in one too many dreams. He was saying something, but she wasn't listening.
She felt alone, going to Neera over and over again had been like willingly choosing to be stabbed in the same wound over and over again, and now, it left a wide, gaping hole in her chest, and she needed someone or something to heal it, to stop it from hurting.
"Pen," her name sent her crashing back to the present. Azriel cupped her cheek, holding her like she was glass.
"I can't go there tomorrow. I don't have any strength to." She said.
"Then don't," he spoke, caressing her chin with his thumb.
"I can't give up on her."
