Pennies (Dollar 1)

My lips parted for sour oxygen as he strode from the room, his cold laughter trailing after him.

What will he do?

I don’t want to know.

In the few minutes I was alone, I didn’t bother trying to sit up. I stayed curled on my side, nursing my dizzy, pounding head, and clutching my single dollar.

He came back.

I managed to suffocate my sob as my gaze fell on what rested in his hands. He’d swapped the black revolver for the thing I hated the most.

The noose.

The noose he used to hang me like a four-pointed star off his ceiling. The noose he used as a leash, a collar, and disciplinary tool.

My most hated enemy.

I scrambled backward as he grabbed my hair, twisting it around his wrist. “You’re going to learn, Pim. You don’t want to talk? Fine. Don’t fucking talk. Write your stupid notes to a diary that doesn’t give a shit about you. Even lie to me and hide it. All of that is forgivable because you’re mine, sweet little Pimlico, and being mine means I’m possessive of your mind but lenient, too.”

His fingers tightened, tearing a few strands from my scalp. “But if you think you can spend the night with a fucking stranger, lay beside him, fantasise about having his fucking cock inside you, and keep what you said to him a secret, think again.”

Wrapping the coarse rope around my neck, he tugged hard. “You’re going to tell me what happened. You’re going to fucking spill, Pim. I’ve been patient enough. You talked to him, didn’t you?” Spittle flew from his mouth as he dragged me from my room and down the corridor. “You want him to be your master and not me. You can’t deny it.”

Carpet burned my hands and knees as I did my best to keep up but failed.

My teeth clacked together as he wrenched me down the staircase. I lost my footing, bouncing downward as he clutched the noose, choking me as I came to a stop in a jumble of body parts at the bottom. My joints bellowed but I never let go of my dollar butterfly.

“Get the fuck up.” Tugging the rope, he forced me to my knees.

I flicked through the almanac of my pain, seeing if there were new entries to fear. My broken hand screamed, but nothing else seemed to be shattered.

“I’m going to teach you—”

Bing bong.

He froze as the doorbell tore through the house.

I panted, unable to stop the torrent of tears now they’d begun.

He came back!

Thank everything that’s holy, he came back.

However, while I celebrated with relief, Master A grinned with depravity. “Ah, perfect timing.”

Wait, what timing?

Who’s at the door?

Panic hissed through my blood as more terror than I’d ever known befell me.

No!

Stop!

My fingers flew to my neck (broken hand and all), clawing at the tight coarseness.

Get it off!

I can’t do this anymore!

Master A jerked the rope hard as if I were an unruly horse tethered with reins. “Stop that!” He headed into the lounge, dragging me behind him—cutting off my air supply as the noose grew tighter and tighter.

My eyes bugged as pressure built in my already throbbing head.

Wrenching me into the middle of the space with tight little jerks, he tied me to the coffee table leg. “Stay.”

I couldn’t stop my satanic hope as he disappeared to answer the front door.

Please, let it be him.

Every click of his shoes, I begged for it to be Mr. Prest.

Was it wrong that I’d given up hoping for freedom and would settle for a new master instead? Freedom was unattainable, but a new owner might be feasible.

If he returned for me, he could keep me. I wouldn’t try to run or kill him.

Just save me and I’m yours.

But I was stupid.

Instincts knew the truth. Master A was happy not furious.

Tony lurked in the kitchen, watching me with nefarious eyes. “You ready for some fun, Pim?”

I clutched my folded dollar as male voices sailed to my ears, echoing with two sets of footfalls.

“I’m glad you’re here.” Master A appeared, smiling at his friend.

Every last hope and stupid notion of a pain-free end evaporated.

Darryl.

“Hey, mate.” Tony slithered toward him, slapping Darryl on the back.

“Gonna have us a party, huh?” Darryl grinned. “Where is the little fiend?”

“Right there.” Master A pointed in my direction.

Darryl’s gaze fell on me, his fingers tightening around the black duffel he carried. “Hello, Pimlico. Been a bad girl, I hear.” His dirty blond hair matched Master A’s, making them brothers in sin if not in blood.

“Very bad, I’m afraid,” Master A muttered. “The minute that bastard delivers what I paid for, he’s dead. If I didn’t need his product so much, I would’ve killed him the second he entered my house.”

“What’s so good about what he can make, anyway?” Tony wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “It’s just a boat.”