Pennies (Dollar 1)
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.”
Damn you.
Screw you!
Let me go!
Hot, angry tears blurred my vision.
And then nothing else mattered as he threw me to the floor and planted his foot into my stomach. “Such an ungrateful bitch. The things I do for you!”
Kick.
Kick.
Kick.
Instinct curled me tight, but discipline made me unravel and accept. I’d long since learned trying to avoid his tirade only brought another and another.
“You think you’re better than me. You’re not!”
Kick.
Kick.
My ribs screamed. My lungs suffocated. I hurt.
I’m strong enough to obey.
The doorbell rang with perfect punctuation of his damning abuse. The cheery chime sent blades slicing down my spine.
Breathing hard, he reached down and almost ripped a handful of my hair as he dragged me to my wobbly feet. “Ah, he’s here. Time to play.”
I bit back a hate-filled breath, existing in fire-searing agony.
He let me go, straightening his shirt. “Now that you’ve seen the length of my generosity, it’s time for you to do the same by being the perfect whore for my guest tonight. Get fucking dressed. And come downstairs.”
* * * * *
To No One,