Flaring my nostrils, I draw in a deep breath then lift my fists and slam them against the mirror so hard it wobbles under my anger. “Let it all go, Pen,” I say to myself fiercely, my reflection misting beneath my words. Pressing my forearms against the mirror, I drop my head between my shoulders and breathe in deeply, absorbing the music and Sia’s lyrics until all I am is another outlet for emotion. I’m no longer Penelope Scott. I’m not Pen, Kid, Titch or Tiny. I’m not someone with the weight of the world on my shoulders. I’m not a girl fucked-up by dangerous men who want to hurt her. I’m not
...more
