Thousands (Dollar 4)

Once a thief, always a thief.

And Pim had stolen my humanity.

I struggled to breathe, spiralling in on myself, drowning in regret as Pim’s mother said through her sobs, “I couldn’t be more proud of you, Tasmin. Never. Not a day went by that I didn’t beg for your forgiveness for how I treated you. Not an hour ticked past when I wished I could rewind and hug you instead of berate you. Kiss you instead of scold you. And show you just how much I cared.”

She scrambled on her knees to her daughter’s side, clutching Pim’s hands. “I loved you so much it scared me. Me—the woman who spent her entire career manipulating humans as if they were bugs under a microscope—was petrified of you. I thought love was weak. I believed if I let myself show how much you meant to me, I would be just like the people who came to me broken and begging for answers.” She shook her head, tangled hair flying. “I was wrong. And I found that out far too late.”

Her face turned black with memories. “I need you to know I hunted the same people I tried to help. I tortured people to find you, Minnie Mouse. I wanted so much to kill Kewet the moment I found him, but I held back just in case he knew more than what he said. I ransacked his apartment. I found the Disney watch Daddy gave you. I still have it—wishing I could give it back to you—even knowing how many times I badgered you to stop wearing such a juvenile thing. So many things I did, but when that killer tried to run, and I visualized you dead or worse, I snapped.”

Her tears slowly stopped as her breathing evened out. “I will never apologise for what I did to him. For taking his life. I’d do it all over again. I would do it for you. I don’t care if it means I’ll rot in here. I have no remorse. I feel no regret.” She squeezed Pim’s fingers. “I would kill an army if it meant you were never taken and never had to live the life you did.”

She brought Pim’s fingers to her mouth. “I’m so damn proud of you. So heartbroken that I made it harder on you. I hope one day you can forgive me. I hope one day your father can forgive me. If you never come visit me again, this is enough. I will happily serve my time knowing in some small way, I showed you how much I care. How deeply sorry I am. For everything.”

Pim sniffed, her own tears evaporating into salty tracks, leaving her skin white and limbs shaky. “I do forgive you, Mum.” Her voice was achingly soft. “But after everything…do you forgive me?”

Her mother sucked in a wet sob. “Oh, Min, do you even need to ask?”

Pim collapsed, bending in her chair to fall into her mother’s embrace. The two women clutched each other, and fuck, I couldn’t stay here anymore.

I shouldn’t have witnessed any of this.

I wasn’t worthy after everything I’d demanded of Pim.

I would never be worthy or have enough breath in my body to apologise for being the same as the monsters she’d endured.

Her mother should kill me too for how cruel I’d been. How callous and motherfucking selfish.

I wanted everything about her but not at the expense of her happiness.

Not anymore.

My eyes fell on Pim’s form still wrapped in her mother’s arms.

I can’t do this anymore.

My legs bunched, hurling me upright from my chair.

I had to run.

Before I exploded.

The ticking in my brain was obsessing.

I was regressing.

I would snap soon and take my misery out on the woman I loved.

My legs forgot how to work as I moved on painful instruction to run. As I stepped toward the two on the floor, my eyes locking on the door and escape, Pim’s fingers lashed around my wrist, injecting me with yet more self-loathing.

“Elder?” The way she looked up, glossy-eyed and trusting, hair spilling over her shoulders, and such fucking love glowing, I couldn’t do it.

My voice cracked as I jerked my arm away. “I’m so fucking sorry, Pimlico.”

Her mother jolted at the name. The name I knew I shouldn’t keep calling her. It was a name linked to slavery and pain, but to me, she wasn’t Tasmin.

She was Pim.

She was Mouse.

Once again, hindsight sucker-punched me in the chest.

No wonder she flinched whenever I called her Mouse. No wonder she grew pissy and pained when I demanded she tell me why that nickname affected her so much.

A watch.

A watch from her childhood stolen the night she was murdered.

Goddammit, I’d been such a heartless fool.

With a shaking hand, I bent and cupped her cheek. With tortured lips, I kissed her forehead wishing against hope she could feel my agony through my touch. That she could understand how I wished I could undo who I was, who I’d been to her, and every single way I’d treated her.