Chapter 2 The Lovers

She watched. 

And she watched. 

And she looked away. 

And she watched again. 

She couldn't stop. None of them could. They weren't strong enough for this. Penelope absolutely refused to let her distress show. She knew trickster, bowie, and everyone else was suffering and couldnt let herself falter. It would be okay it would be okay. She could do this. She was used to being the strong one, the lead. It would be fine, she told herself as trickster drank her own grave. It would be okay, she told herself as dae stared at the rope in his hands. Everything was alright, she told herself as bowie nearly lost his mind. She just wanted everything to stop, her heart was growing heavy. 

It hurt to breathe sometimes. She didn't know what to do, but she knew she had to begin with trickster. Noone else would step up and do what had to be done. She went into trickster's room and sat on the edge of the bed. As usual, she was curled up, hiding in the blankets. Penelope wasn't sure if she was awake. But she began. 

"Hey, trickie." 

It was her own personal nickname for the hacker, her voice soft. 

"It's noon already, you know?" 

There was no response. She took a moment to collect herself, and started out with a voice even smaller than before. 

"Please.. stop drinking." 

At this point, she didn't even care if trickster was asleep or not. 

"Its... it's not fair.... we all, we all have to go through this," 

her voice began to break, 

"we all have to go through this and it's just not fair that you can drift away and pretend it's not happening." 

She stifles a sob. 

"Its not fair." 

After enough time of penelope quietly sobbing and no response from trickster, she got up and walked to the door. She didn't say anything else, and closed the door behind her.

---

Penelope knew he wasn't okay. 

She wasn't either. 

But it wasn't fair, she couldn't afford to have a breakdown while everyone else suffered. 

It just wasn't fair. 

So she sat down on his bed, she leaned on him, and whispered, 

"It's okay to not be okay." 

She thought, how funny it was, that she felt as if she were trying to convince herself, not Asahi. but she hugged him, she let him cry into her shoulder, and let him fall asleep like that. Once she had laid him down and tucked him in, Penelope pressed a kiss to his cheek and went to leave. 

She smiled back at his sleeping form, brushed away whatever kind of tear was forming as she knew she couldn't hold this up much longer, and shut the door quietly.

---

Penelope always found Scout. 

She'd pretended long enough to not know that Scout was hiding. 

Sometimes, she'd even suggest that she hide, next. 

But of course, Scout never felt up to it. 

Talking, smiling, being around everyone else. It was too tiring for Scout, and Penelope knew that. 

That's why, Penelope waited in the air vent space where Scout normally went every other day, when they couldn't find anywhere else. Penelope had conveniently made obstacles to the other hiding places so that Scout didn't have a choice but to climb into the vents. 

As she heard the thudding of Scout's crawling, she fixed her crestfallen face into a smile, and she helped them, too. She had to help everyone. 

Her most precious people. She had to make sure they were okay. 

If they weren't, she wouldn't be. 

But even without that, 

she knew, 

she wouldn't be okay for a long time.

---

Penelope tried so hard. She did. She tried so hard every day to make sure everyone was sane and stable. She tried, she nearly succeeded. She comforted them, let them cry to her, on her, directed them to their worried loved ones. She really thought they were going to be okay. And then the dreaded trial five. Trial five, the one they all knew was coming. They knew but they gathered around the screen anyways. Penelope joined them, after disposing of all the alcohol in the vacinity. It was better than way, anyways. On that screen, she saw each of them struggle. She saw John in that little bitch's face. In her voice. In her smile. But the thing that Penelope was denying was that there was a time when John wasn't a twisted, misguided man. Where he didn't want them all to suffer. There was a time when he was just like everyone else. She couldn't forget that as easily as everyone else did when he orchestrated this killing game and watched their friends get murdered. She couldn't forget it in his malicious gaze and his fake smiles. Penelope remembered the John that noone would talk to. The one who listened to old music and let her rant, just the tiniest bit. The John who missed his little sibling. The John who wanted to be normal. The John who looked up to Robert. But noone else did. And as she stood there, holding hands with the people she loved most, she saw herself. Mutilated. Stabbed. Dead. Every time. She began to feel something, a lot of things. All at once, and it took all of her willpower to simply not collapse and manage to hobble away to the restroom, where she locked herself for three days.

The first day, she laid there, unmoving, in speaking, crumpled on the floor and in immense pain. Each scar took its turn with her- at the same time. The second day, knowing that noone would guess it was Penelope in the same place for the entire day and would just go to another restroom, she cut her hair. It felt so good to chop it off, watching the neon locks fall in the sink. She stood there, after cutting it. Just staring at herself in the mirror. After two hours she bound herself with the shower curtain rope so that she couldn't cut anything else. It hurt, she knew it would leave marks, but she didn't care. The third day, she sat in the bathtub, hands bound to one another, sobbing ever so softly. Penelope just sat there, crying, waiting for the minute when someone would piece it together and barge in. Until then, she would simply think of all sixty eight times she had died, and wonder, what had happened after.