Pennies (Dollar #1)

The ladder and spade and parachute my heart had tried to escape with clattered against my ribs as the damn organ grew legs to sprint far, far away.

He could keep his barbaric generosity.

Heading to the small fridge beside the dressing table, where he kept a stock of beer to stay hydrated while spending hours making me wish I was dead, he twisted the top off his favourite brand and drank deep. “One thing you should know about tonight, Pim, is this bastard doesn’t know how unique our love is. It’s special; do you understand?”

It took everything I had not to roll my eyes.

You’re deluded. Insane!

Love? Bah!

His ownership of me was the very definition of fucked up.

“You’ll be on your best behaviour because I have something else to give you.”

My shoulders rolled, protecting myself from a wallop or painful kiss from whatever new item he’d purchased. My ability to read him had scrambled as if sudden inference switched his usual agenda.

If you can’t predict him, you’ve failed Psychology 101.

My mother wouldn’t be proud.

My thoughts didn’t often go to her, but when they did, I wondered if she ever mingled with the bastard who’d taken me. Smiling at him, thinking he was there for her business all while he smirked with the secret of stealing me for profit.

How much of the one point five million did he get for me?

What would he get for me now? Now I was skinny and beaten and blue?

Master A turned to face me.

My flesh prickled with foreboding.

All I wanted to do was shoot him and walk away. I needed good news to tell No One. Even though I shared my life with my imaginary pen friend, I couldn’t write most confessions.

He’d hurt me worse than I wanted to immortalize in graphite. He could defile me, abuse me, and even cajole me to speak, but I would never give him what he wanted most.

My voice.

Sometimes, he brought me to the brink of speech through throttling or cutting me, hovering me on the precipice of saying one word to make him stop. But, as if sensing that if he made me talk, I would be worthless, he pulled back at the last excruciating moment.

After such an incident, I used my remaining strength to barricade the door with my dresser—blocking him from hurting me further.

He’d gone berserk, grabbing an axe from the garage, hacking through the immaculate furniture.

And what he’d done when he got through…

I shuddered, unable to relive it. But it didn’t stop my fingers trailing to my foot where every metacarpal had been broken as he stomped and brutalised me.

“Stand up. I have a surprise for you.”

Surprise?

I hated surprises.

Surprise meant being strangled.

Surprise meant being sold.

My lips clamped together as I stood.

He vanished from the room only to return a second later with a bag. “Go on. Have a look at my gift. Don’t be an ungrateful bitch.”

If I hadn’t taken a vow of soundlessness, I would’ve cursed his rotten soul. I would’ve screamed for him to die multiple times over.

Taking a hesitant step, I accepted the bag and peeked inside.

Clothes.

Why the hell is he giving me clothes now…after all this time?

Was he somehow hoping I’d forgive him for what he’d done? Cotton and silk couldn’t do that. Nothing could. Not that he’d ever be human enough to seek forgiveness or even sane enough to realise how sick he was.

Not waiting for me to pull the clothing free, he yanked the bag from my fingers, and tossed the white garments on the floor. They merged with the tiles and sheepskin below. “Yours. I expect you to wear them.”

When I didn’t move, he came up behind me, rubbing his erection into the crack of my ass. “Fuck, you piss me off not talking.” He slapped my thigh. “You think you’re so strong, but you’re not that strong. You don’t want to talk to me? I don’t need you to talk.”

Biting my earlobe hard enough to draw blood, he laughed as I flinched. “One day, you’ll break, and when you do, I’ll fucking celebrate by listening to your screams.”

Grabbing my nape, he marched me forward until I crashed against the dressing table. “Carry on not talking to me. I don’t need your girlish voice when I know you like to write.”

My flesh rippled with indignation as a droplet of crimson from my bitten ear landed on my shoulder.

He rolled his hips, digging his cock into my back. “Remember those notes I stole from you when you first arrived…they were entertaining reading. I want some more. I want to know what you feel when I take you. I want to know everything you keep locked inside that mute little brain.”

I forced myself not to look over my shoulder at my hiding place. Sheets and sheets of notes to No One hidden so damn close to where we stood. I’d have nothing left if he found them.

I couldn’t breathe as he slammed my face against a large book resting on the edge of the table. “This is another gift because I’m feeling like Santa fucking Claus tonight.” Pressing my cheek on the ornate bound diary, he hissed, “Scribble away, my dear. Let’s see what else you have to say about me.”

The new Mont Blanc pen beside the new pages begged me to use it as a harpoon. To stab it in his eye and dance in his blindness.

Do it.

Kill him.

Now!

My fingers crawled to the pen, but he swiped it into his fist. “On second thoughts…this is too good for you.” Licking my ear, he smeared my blood. “I see your plans, Pim. Shame on you for thinking about using my gift for other activities.”