Chapter 25
Penelope
She hadn’t spoken about Cristina out loud in a couple of years. It affected her everyday life, the way she moved through the world, and certainly how she interacted with Dommes, but that didn’t mean that Penelope was used to talking about it.
Rachel sat across the table from her, anxiety painted across her face.
She hadn’t done anything wrong. If anything, she’d been so wonderful that merely being in her presence was enough to keep Penny calm. And the realization of that had been enough to set her into a panic.
“Who’s Cristina?” asked Rachel, gently.
“My ex,” said Penny. “And not my ex in the kind of nice positive way that you often find with lesbians. She’s my ex in the ‘oh my god she’s a shitty person’ kind of way.”
“Ah,” said Rachel.
“Cristina was into humiliation kink, only it was less kink and more outright meanness. And she didn’t really like me having friends, or doing my own thing, and hated me being at the club.”
“That’d explain why the club is pretty protective of you.”
“Just a little bit!” Penelope laughed, but the sound was harsh and hard, and there was no amusement in it at all.
She just felt a bit empty—it was the only way to talk about it all.
“She didn’t like me having a life outside of her, but she also didn’t really want me in her life.
Any kind of peace that I had, any kind of solace, had to come from me.
“My friends were amazing; Mina, Amanda, Layne and Vicky. They helped me see that what was happening wasn’t good. They encouraged me to think critically about the kink that I was engaging in, and how it was damaging. Dangerous.”
She looked up to where Rachel sat. Her face was carefully blank, as if schooled to try and not spook Penny. “It’s okay, I know it’s made me pretty fucked up.”
“Sounds like you have reason to be fucked,” said Rachel. “Though I think we’re all fucked up in our own way.”
“Yeah, but my C-PTSD…” She paused then. “That sounds like I’m being overly dramatic, I know, but I promise you, I have actually been diagnosed. I meet all the criteria laid out in the DSM-5 and?—”
“I believe you,” said Rachel. “You don’t sound like you’re being dramatic. Go on, Penny.”
That, at least, was something. Most people pulled a face when she mentioned her trauma, as if a shitty relationship couldn’t possibly result in the kind of diagnosis that was made up of those particular letters.
“Well, it means that I sometimes have trauma responses. I can’t help it; they kind of sucker punch me in the gut, and I’m left emotionally wheezing all over the place.
And in the stall earlier I… we… everything we’ve been doing, it feels right.
Fun. Intense in the best kind of way, and that’s in no small part due to you.
You make me feel safe.” She smiled weakly.
“And that was apparently enough to freak my stupid brain out.”
“Your brain isn’t stupid,” said Rachel, and went to get up, before sitting back down again. “I’m sorry, I kind of want to hug you, but I don’t know if that would be helpful right now.”
“You can hug me,” said Penelope. “I’d like that.”
And then they were both up and she was in Rachel’s arms, clinging on and burying her face in the other woman’s shoulder. The butterfly tattoo winked at her and she half-laughed, even through her tears.
“My darling,” said Rachel. “I didn’t know.”
“Moira told me that I should tell you,” admitted Penny. “But I just didn’t know how.”
“That’s totally understandable. I’m just glad that you feel safe enough to tell me now. Thank you for trusting me.”
“You’re welcome,” said Penelope, her voice very small. “I’m sorry my brain went all weird and I reacted like… that. I don’t regret what we’ve been doing. Not in the slightest, but it scares me a bit.”
“It scares me too,” said Rachel. “I know you don’t want a relationship…”
“ Didn’t want a relationship,” Penny corrected. “I didn’t want a relationship because I was afraid I’d end up losing myself again. But with you, it feels like I’m rediscovering myself, letting myself indulge in everything that I’ve had locked up for so long. So my stance on dating has changed.”
“It has?”
“Uh huh.” She nodded. “I want to take it slow, though. Maybe we have a different safe word—one for when I’ve been triggered or am having a trauma response?
That way you could know that I need immediate space, but that it’s not because I’m angry with you or hurt.
It’s just my brain needs some processing time. ”
“Absolutely,” said Rachel, her arms still tight about Penelope. “Absolutely we can do that.”