“Untie me first.”
For a long moment, he didn’t reply. Then the slight rustle of his suit as he leaned forward and pushed my shoulders off the seat. My skin prickled beneath his touch, bristling with hatred.
Doing my best to move away, I wriggled to the edge of the plush leather, holding my wrists out to make it easier. With a quick saw, the stringed devils around my skin fell away, their teeth muzzled for another day.
The blindfold relaxed over my eyes, granting a smidgen of relief from the headache caused by its tightness.
The moment I was freed, the man reclined in his chair.
I blinked, fighting the glare of finally having vision again. He sat directly opposite me rather than across the aisle as I’d thought. He’d removed his mask, and the second I met his gaze, I wanted to slam the blindfold back on and have every sense forgotten.
I didn’t want to see, hear, touch, or heaven forbid, ever taste this man.
The English Lord mask he’d worn had been far too kind for the monster beneath.
Struggling to keep my face tight and unreadable, I tilted my chin. The urge to blurt plea bargains and terrifying questions formed a gag around my throat.
I was thankful.
He deserved no more words from me. He deserved nothing but a firing squad and my footsteps dancing on his grave.
Back when life was safe and my only concern was what TV show to view when I couldn’t sleep, I’d binge-watched police shows, forensic documentaries, and crime investigations. I loved working out the suspect before the presenter got to the real perpetrator, drinking in the DNA testing and glaring at each potential murderer on the screen.
A lot of the time, the person who’d killed looked like any other neighbour or family friend. Old or young, rich or poor, they were just a person.
A person with darkness inside.
However, when the camera zoomed on their features as the show’s conclusion revealed their comeuppance, one thing always linked them together.
Their eyes.
Something about their eyes revealed the truth, just like this man’s did.
Something was missing. I didn’t want to say a soul because I didn’t know entirely what that was. But it could also be something so much worse. An imposter. Not human enough to feel compassion and empathy. People who killed and raped were cold-hearted, pain-thirsting demons.
I’d been sold to that demon.
He smiled, showing square white teeth in a tanned face. His dirty blond hair pegged him as Swedish or maybe Norwegian. He had the same bone structure of the lanky Europeans with a long nose, pronounced cheekbones, and piercing blue eyes.
I guessed his age would be late thirties. An age where he could’ve been my father if he’d had children young.
Wait…
Did he have kids? A wife? A family?
We stared at each other, neither saying a word. It felt like a contest, battling for domination, but I knew better. He wanted me to walk into his trap. I already had by requesting he untie me. I’d done my part. The rest was up to him.
He grinned coldly. “Now that you can see me, let’s begin.”
Leaning forward, he dug pinching fingers into my kneecaps. No one had ever grabbed me there before, but as his fingernails sank swiftly into the satin of my dress and curled around the pieces of bone protecting my joints, I suddenly understood how vulnerable knees were. How easy to pop off and rip away.
I gasped, turning ice-cold in my chair.
“My name is Alrik Åsbjörn. To you, I’m Master A. Do you understand?” His fingers dug harder.
My lips glued together, refusing to speak. I had power over speech, but I didn’t over my eyes. They glassed with pain as he continued to hurt me.
“Don’t have anything to reply?” His jaw clenched as he dug deeper into my kneecaps. “What happened to the girl who bid one million for herself? I rather like that bitch.”
Agonising discomfort flared down my legs, but I didn’t break. I couldn’t. If he won this battle, then I’d lost the war. I couldn’t do that to myself so soon.
“Gone shy on me? Fine.” Removing his threat, he sat back. “You’ll talk. You’ll see.”
The relief around my bones throbbed with every heartbeat.
I’ll do my best that you’ll never hear my voice again.
“I see we’ll have some breaking in to do, but don’t underestimate me, girl. You don’t want to mess with me.” Pulling a black file that I hadn’t seen wedged beside him, he unzipped the leather shell and pulled out a sheaf of paper. Waving it in my face, he smiled. “This is you. The sum of your life. Your friends on social media. Your family photos. Your personal messages. Every silly thought and ugly reminder of your past.”
His soft voice stupidly lulled me until he exploded in a violent outburst, throwing the paperwork across the wood and silver-trimmed cabin. “Gone! All of it. You are no longer that slut. You’re my slut. You’ve been given the name Pimlico, and from now on, that’s all you are. Got it? You’re name-less, family-less, and mine.”
His hand raised, and the lessons the traffickers had taught kept me subservient. I cowered before his strike, already giving him the control he so desired. He whacked me around the ear, causing a sharp ringing inside my skull.
I bit my lip, holding back any cry or tear, bowing forward to send a wave of brown hair to hide my face.
I needed to vanish. To disappear.
He didn’t seem to care that I didn’t scream or beg. Rubbing his hands together, he grew calm again.
Too calm.
He acted as if we were on a business date, discussing a transaction beneficial to both of us.
I wanted to teach him what was beneficial: his balls in my left hand and an arrest warrant in my right.
Alrik—as if I’d ever call him Master A? (the sadist prick)—ran a palm over his clean-shaven jaw. “It’s only fair I tell you something about me, seeing as I know everything there is to know about you.” Buffing his nails on his shirt, he sighed as if this entire thing was boring him. “I’m taking you to my home in Crete. There, you will do what I want, when I want. You will not refuse unless you enjoy agony.” His eyes hollowed with no mercy. “Then again, perhaps you like pain. Do you, Pimlico? Answer me; don’t be coy. Do you secretly enjoy being hurt?”
I stiffened as he stroked my knee again, threatening with reminder of what he’d already done. “Whatever empowerment you hope being silent gives you…think again.” His hand gathered my dress, bunching it up my thighs.
No. Please, no.
I squeezed my eyes, waiting for his gruesome fingers to climb between my legs. But he stopped. Hovering on my delicate skin, he grunted, “You will talk to me. Eventually. But don’t worry, if you only learn to scream, I can work with that.”
Reclining backward, his vile touch gave me a reprieve as he picked up his glass. Taking three long sips, he twirled the breakable flute with a lingering smirk. “Forget everything about your past and only remember this. You are my toy; my most prized possession. Don’t forget how much I paid for you and what I expect in return.”
His words fell to the plane’s floor like loaded grenades.
I waited for them to detonate and destroy me, but whatever freedom I’d found by locking myself away prevailed.
The silence stretched like a dirty pause, but I didn’t care. If I was to remain true to my voiceless future, I had to befriend silence and find sanctuary in whatever awkwardness it created.
However, Alrik wasn’t prepared to do such things. His eyes narrowed as he leaned into me. “Are you not going to ask what you can expect in return?”
Every instinct commanded me to shake my head. To reply in some way. But I fought that, too. Verbal and nonverbal communication were now forever forbidden. Just as I’d locked away who I was, I would banish all memory of companionable connection.
He growled beneath his breath. “The more you defy me, the more you’ll pay when we arrive.”
Arrive.
Away from my home and mother. Away from everything I’d been.
I could control my outward response, but I couldn’t control my heart bucking suicidal in my chest.
Alrik sighed heavily, snapping his fingers for another glass of champagne. Instantly, a dew-covered flute with sparkling liquor was delivered directly into his outstretched paw.
Enjoying a sip, he said, “Seeing as you won’t ask, I won’t tell. But just so you know, by the time the week is through, you’ll be on your knees wishing you’d been smarter. You’ll chant yourself to sleep begging to know what comes next.”
He painted a horrible picture. A future I wanted nothing to do with.
A few heartbeats thundered past, my chest rising and falling, tickling my nipples against the toilet paper words stuffed in my bodice.
My note to No One.
I was stupid to find comfort in those silver-scribbled scraps. But I did. My back straightened, and my fingers linked demurely in my lap.
This bastard was just a man.
Scum.
Yes, he could hurt me. Yes, he could make me beg for death. But we were the same species. Same adversaries.
And one day soon, I would figure out a way to win and be free of him.
Alrik toasted me with his champagne, not offering me a drink or dinner. His gaze travelled over every inch of me as the plane banked to the left. “We’re almost home. I can’t wait to show you around.”
He chuckled, enjoying being the joke creator and punch line to the new narration of my life. “Once we get there, you’ll realise how much you wasted my openness to talk. Poor Pimlico…you really should’ve asked.
“And now…it’s too late.”
Chapter Five
Pimlico
“This is your room.”
Alrik shoved me over the threshold, barring the doorway with his body. My white heels clipped on the sparkling silver tiles, sinking deep into a sheepskin rug as I stumbled from his push.
I wanted to rub my skin where he’d touched me. I wanted to wash and wash and wash.
We’d arrived a little while ago, soaring from clouds to land, concluding our journey at a private airstrip. A chauffeur-driven car delivered us from there to here, and the resplendent home of my captor did nothing to make my stay more welcoming.
The moment he’d dragged me inside, he tore me through the space, past the dining room, kitchen, lounge, and up a flight of steps that branched off in two directions. He took the left, wrapping his fingers tightly around my wrist as if I’d run away any second.
There’s nowhere to run.
I had no idea where I was. No hope of escape.
I lost count of how many rooms existed off the corridor until he opened a white-lacquered door and tossed me inside.
Either Alrik had a fascination with white, or he had no inspiration when it came to decoration. The walls were white, the bed white, even the dressing table, bedside units, and armoire. White, white, white.
My eyes dropped to my dress.
Was that why he’d bought me? Because I’d been prepped for sale in snow?
I backed away toward the alabaster curtains, hiding a view of a country I’d never visited, hidden in the lateness of night.
His hands spread like shackles as he marched toward me. “Time to welcome you to your new home, don’t you think?” Grabbing the front of my dress, he yanked. Hard.
The pretty pearls and intricate stitching did its best to withstand such torture, but the pieces tore with a loud shriek.
My arms came up automatically. Not to protect my decency—that luxury had been beaten out of me back at the trafficking hotel—but to hide my toilet paper novel.
Too late.
The scribbled pieces scattered onto the carpet like tiny squares of misery. My bitten pencil bounced free like a splinter from my heart. I wanted to scoop them up, but there was no point. He’d seen, and no matter if I picked them up or left them, he’d steal them from me.
That was what men like him did.
I’d been bought to share his perverted life in whatever way he saw fit. I wouldn’t cry over my revealed words, and I wouldn’t beg him to leave them alone.
His eyes latched onto the mess on the floor, a sinister smile twitching his lips. “Well, well, what do we have here?”
I sucked in a breath, glowering with all the force I had left.
He raised an eyebrow as he squatted to pick up a piece. Reading the scribbles, he looked up. The fact he bowed before me didn’t escape my knowledge. However, I wasn’t silly enough to believe the position put him below me. He could cause just as much pain down there as he could with me scrunched up and crying on his toes.
“What exactly is this?”
I broke eye contact, glaring at the white painted wall. No artwork. No personality—a blank void of nothingness.
“Not replying to me is getting very old, very quick.” Alrik straightened, shoving a handful of my pages in my face. “Don’t want to tell me? Fine. In that case, you don’t need them anymore.”
Snatching up every last sheet, he stomped to the door. “I suggest you get some sleep, Pimlico, because tomorrow, your true welcome begins.”
To No One,
He’s gone. He’s taken my previous confessions to you but not my pencil. I’ll hide whatever I transcribe now, so he’ll never have these new pages. It’s late, very late, but I don’t have a clock in this emotionless tomb. Tomorrow, my life will change, and I may or may not be able to write to you about what I live through.
Just knowing you’re there to listen is enough. Having your acceptance and no judgement will keep me going.
My mother would be proud of me. I’ve lasted this long with my dignity intact.
Can I tell you a secret, No One? Whatever Alrik does to me tomorrow—sexually—will be the first thing anyone has done to me. I’m eighteen and a virgin. Laughable, right? But that’s what happens when you live in my world. My mother forced me to choose books over boys and studies over sex. I mean, if I’d found a guy I liked enough to last a few dates and sloppy kisses with, her rules wouldn’t have stopped me. But I didn’t find him. And now, I never will because that choice has been taken from me.
Is it stupid not to be afraid of his fists or boots or chains? Is it ridiculous that I don’t fear sticks and whips and torture equipment? All I truly fear is him. His…penis.
Will it hurt?
Will I bleed?
Who will be there to talk to me when it’s over and I feel different? When he forces me from girl to woman? Teen to slave? Free to broken?
You, I guess. Only you.
Until tomorrow, No One.
Sleep well because I won’t.
Chapter Six
Pimlico
To No One,
I—I thought I could do this. But I can’t. I thought I could tell you what he did. But I won’t. All I can say is…his idea of welcome included things I never want to experience again. It hurt. So, so much. I can barely sit without wanting to scream in agony while writing this to you.
He took my virginity.
Multiple times.
He made me wish sex was never invented.
God, it hurt so much, No One.
But he didn’t kill me.
So I’ll focus on that.
And do my best to figure out how to survive.
Chapter Seven
Pimlico
To No One,
How long have I lived here? I’ve forgotten. Is it two weeks or three? Ten weeks or twelve?
Alrik deliberately keeps calendars out of the house, and every technology device he owns is password protected. I know because I’ve tried. I’ve stood in the dark trying to hack his encryption. I’ve pretended to sleep, chained in the corner of his bedroom, all while fumbling with the number lock on his cell-phone.
The only way I can judge passing months is the regular contraceptive injection he gives me.
Oh, No One, if you could see me? God, I’m so glad you can’t see me.
How was I ever so vain to think I was pretty? Why did I ever want to lose the puppy fat that gave me curves? I can honestly say if my mother saw me now, she’d walk right past me. She wouldn’t recognise me. I don’t recognise me.
Alrik cut my hair three nights ago. Or was it six? I don’t know. All I know was his fists on my skin and his boots in my belly weren’t enough for him. He had to slice away the hair I used to shield my face from his. He took away my protection with four snips of the kitchen scissors.
He left me with a mismatched jaw-length massacre. That doesn’t bother me. The hacked strands can’t weaken me, but the fact he didn’t tidy up his awful hack job damaged my belief that I could endure what my future holds.
By leaving me this way, he’s shown how much he doesn’t care.
He called me his prized possession.
I’m not.
I’m his trophy to be tarnished and dented and then put back on a mantel to fade from gold to dirty bronze before being shoved in a box and forgotten about. How long before I’m in the box, No One?
Do I even want to know?
Possession of Alrik
SIX MONTHS
To No One,
I talk to you every day (if I can steal the time), but have you noticed I’m not writing everything down? Not walking you through my daily horrors or regaling the truth of what I endure?
Do you want to know why?
Because nobody should have to read what has become of me. No one should have to see what that raping bastard does.
I’ll spare you.
And I’ll spare myself by not recalling it.
Possession of Alrik
ONE YEAR
Dear No One,
Today, Alrik told me I’ve been with him for a year. A year! One disgusting, awful, crippling year.
A year…
That’s far too long to contemplate.
I did everything I could to escape—you know that. I hid from him, I fought him—I even tried to kill him.
And I paid for my attempts.
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