Chapter Text
Laying among the shattered crockery in her destroyed flat, Penelope used her one good eye to take in her surroundings, making sure he was truly gone. A strangled groan erupted from her throat as she sat up, every inch of her body on fire. It took every ounce of her strength to stand, a sob escaping her as she took in the wreckage. Broken crockery and picture frames, blood on the floor.
Making her way slowly into the hallway, she saw his unmoving form passed out on her bed. Her focus turned to the bathroom, wanting to get a glimpse at herself. A sigh released itself on her good eye meeting her reflection. One eye swollen shut, a deep gash above the other. Cuts and bruises over all the skin she could see, and she knew that she had cuts on her back from the broken crockery as well.
Tears fell from her eyes and mixed with the blood as the thunder crashed outside. Her life was not supposed to be this way. Sure, she was engaged to a man she didn’t want at the urging of her father. This man worked with her father and Archibald Featherington only wanted this match to further secure his company.
Her family cared nothing for her, she was just a nuisance that they wanted out of their lives. After tonight, she wanted nothing more to do with them. She needed to get away, and there was only one person she knew could help her.
Anthony Bridgerton.
Looking at the ruined dress that she was wearing, she quietly changed into a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants. Slipping into a pair of flats, she looked around her destroyed life and shook her head, walking out of the door and towards freedom.
Penelope didn’t have a car. Working from home she didn’t need one. Her cell phone was destroyed in his attack, so there was nothing she could do but brave the storm and walk. Her family had made sure that she had no access to her funds.
Standing at the doorway to the outside world, Penelope was so glad that it was the middle of the night and no one was awake. Stepping out into the storm, she shivered and grimaced as her hoodie soaked through and stuck to her wounds.
Anthony. She had to make it there while she could still move. He would help her. She’d lost contact with most of the Bridgerton family, wanting to do right by her own blood. What a fool she’d been to trust them. Before she’d parted ways with them over 2 years ago, he’d given her his personal elevator card for his multi level penthouse flat. He’d told Penelope to come to him any time she needed help.
Plastic card gripped in her hand, she walked the 6 blocks to his home, her strength fading as she used the card. She’d made it outside to his door and collapsed against the wall, her eyes closing in exhaustion. Penelope forced herself to remain conscious as the door opened. “Anthony…..help me…….”
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Anthony Bridgerton couldn’t sleep. He stared out of the windows in his home, his eyes following the train of the rain. When midnight had struck……this was a very difficult day for him. A horrible anniversary. His wife, Kate, had died 3 years ago in childbirth, the baby lost as well. He still had his family but he lost everything that day.
For so long he hadn’t wanted to go on, but his family helped him through it. It still hurts every day but he found a way to survive it. However, these were dark days; the days that marked their passing. He had loved Kate with everything he had possessed and was so lonely without her.
Finishing his dram, he sighed, moving to pour another when the clock chimed at 3 in the morning. Turning his eyes back to the rain, he jumped when he heard his security system speak of movement outside of his private elevator entrance.
Brow furrowing, Anthony set his drink down and made to grab his pistol. Making sure it was loaded, he moved quietly across the floor and down the stairs, towards the door. Using the door viewer, he could see no one outside. Undoing the safety on the gun, he opened the door, only to spy a soaked and bleeding figure on the floor.
Seeing the red hair, he immediately put the safety back on and placed the pistol on a nearby table.
“Anthony….help me…..”
“Pen?!” He knelt beside her, taking in her injuries. Folding her into his arms, he lifted her, his heart breaking at the cry of pain that came from her. Leaning against the wall for a moment, he shut and locked the door behind them before rushing through his apartment, up the stairs and into his bedroom.
Uncaring for his sheets, he set her down, brushing her wet hair from her face. The sight he saw sent his blood boiling. “What happened, Pen? Pen? Penelope?!” Seeing that she’d lost consciousness, Anthony swore and moved to his cell phone, calling for a doctor friend of his. He knew that it was late, but this man owed him several favors.
When he explained, the doctor said that he would be there shortly with an entire bag. Anthony had told him that he wasn’t sure how bad her injuries were, he just knew she was hurt and bleeding.
Sitting on his bed next to his old friend, his hand smoothed her hair back and he felt the sting of tears in his eyes. “What happened, Pen?” His words were a whisper that echoed in the room, but with no reply from the unconscious woman.
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So this just came to me last night and I want to know if you guys think I should continue???