Pennies (Dollar #1)

by Pepper Winters

  “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.”

  “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.

  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.

  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?

  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.

  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.

  You’re the only thing I have, No One. Only you know the true facts. Only you understand what I’ve done to survive. How I gave up a piece of myself to protect what I have left. How he can hurt my body but he can no longer hurt my soul.

  I’ve learned to manipulate him. He still beats me—my God, he finds new ways every day—but after all this time, he promised he would’ve broken me by now.

  The opposite is true.

  I’m stronger now than I’ve ever been.

  I’m older now.

  I’m wiser now.

  And I finally understand what my mother tried to teach me.

  There is power in listening, watching, observing. Alrik is a snivelling cesspool of evil, but he has me trapped. While I look for ways to kill him, I control him…little by little. Inch by inch, I win an extra meal for being polite. I undermine his abuse by being obedient.

  He hasn’t broken me.

  He will never break me.

  And soon, I will be free.

  Dear No One,

  A year and a half…

  My mother…she’ll have moved on by now. My friends will be halfway through their degrees at university. Their lives progressed while mine has regressed.

  Am I even a girl anymore? I don’t know. All I know is pain. I was strong for so long. I set up home deep, deep inside me. I had safe sanctuary to flee to when he came for me.

  But yesterday…he broached my inner kingdom and invited his friends to break me.

  They didn’t succeed.

  But they did succeed in something else.

  It kills me to admit this to you, No One…but I…I’ve been as brave as I can. I’ve held on for so long.

  I’m tired.

  When does living become the wrong choice and death the right one? When does taking your own life become wiser than letting someone else destroy it?

  I don’t want to die because I’m weak.

  I want to die because it’s the last thing I can
do to win.

  He wouldn’t have me anymore. I would take away his power.

  Suicide could be the final rebellion and one act he couldn’t prevent.

  Do you think taking my life would be weak? Do you believe I’ve withstood enough? Have I endured enough broken bones to prove my desire to keep living?

  I’m a slave, No One.

  A slave to his whims even while I curse his very creation.

  He’s scarred me, ruined me, and now, he’s sharing me as if I’m worth nothing.

  I’m worth everything.

  And I’ve finally had enough.

  DEAR NO ONE,

  You’ve been there for me through every cut and concussion. You’ve listened to my nightmares, and held my hand while that bastard made me bleed.

  So many times you’ve listened and hugged and been there. But did you ever think you’d have to listen for two years?

  Two.

  Years.

  I’ve been with this awful monster two years.

  I have nothing else to say. Nothing else to give.

  Six months ago, I reached my limit. I shut down whatever was left inside and decided on death or delirium. Death if I could cheat his fun at hurting me. Delirium if couldn’t run to my grave.

  But somehow…he knew.

  One day, the knives in the kitchen were in the butcher block like always, tempting me closer and closer; the next, they’d vanished.

  The curtain cords, the household tools, electrical appliances—anything that could’ve aided in my suicide magically disappeared.

  He did it to keep me weak.

  But it didn’t work. He reminded me that I’ve lasted this long. I can last longer. Why should I die? He’s the one who deserves to meet his maker and pay for all that he’s done.

  And he will pay.

  I’ll make sure of it.

  It’s taken a long time but he doesn’t suspect me of treason anymore. I stopped outwardly fighting, I…obeyed. But not because he broke me.

  Oh, no.

  I obeyed because I’m smarter than him. I’m patient enough to bide the perfect time.