Did he really just walk out the door?
Without a goodbye?
Without a…
What?
A thank you?
What did you expect? He gave you pleasure. He let you sleep peacefully. He gave you more gifts than anyone, and you expect more from him?
I laughed soundlessly. I was an idiot. A dead idiot.
I sucked air as my pulse two-stepped than four-stepped, desperately trying to calm.
You don’t have time for this!
Breathe!
The moment Mr. Prest was kicked from the house, Master A would return. And he wouldn’t have the gun with him. He’d have much more inventive ways to kill me. Ways that gave him entertainment and pleasure.
If only he’d left the weapon on the bed.
I would’ve grabbed it, turned the muzzle on myself, wrapped my fingers around the trigger, and said goodbye.
I would’ve traded any hope of heaven by committing suicide just for the tease of finally being free from this purgatory. I would welcome death with frost feathered wings, hoping I’d paid enough atonement for a better life.
How will I survive this?
As my mind ran riot, and my body continued to suffocate on terror, I compiled a last will and testament in my head.
Not that I had anything to give.
I flew back to the past and my room in London, reliving dinners with my mother at our window bay table and sneaking in trash TV when I was supposed to be doing homework. I went over my meagre childish belongings that, at the time, had felt so important and were now completely inconsequential.
To my mother, I bequeath my rare collection of English stamps. To my friend, Amanda, I leave my DVD collection of Anne of Green Gables—
Stop it, Mouse. Just…stop it.
I winced.
I’d called myself Mouse—just like Mr. Prest. I’d spent too long in my memories, too long with a man who made me remember another way of living.
I collapsed in shock and horror, stumbling to the mattress but landing on my knees instead. My heart pulled out its drum set to crash on castanets and cymbals.
Don’t let him hurt me. Not again.
I would’ve preferred to be shot.
A hundred times over.
I wanted my first kiss to be my final memory. I wanted to go into a never-ending sleep where I found my father and he had my Minnie Mouse watch. I wanted so many things that I would never earn.
But as much as my heart ached, and I wished to hate Mr. Prest for making me live if only for a moment before death, I couldn’t despise him. He’d done what he said and got me out of his system. He’d kissed me to rid any hold I had over him.
He’d given me no other promises. In fact, his only oath was that he would use me and then leave me.
He’d upheld that oath.
I wasn’t his.
I was Master A’s, and the rental agreement was up.
Fighting back abandonment and foolishness far, far painful than any abusive wounds I’d suffered, my world once again went dark as I closed my eyes and prepared to meet my end.
I grabbed the sheet, yanking it to cover myself. However, something crinkly fluttered with the whiteness, landing on the floor beside me.
The shock of something unknown interrupted my panic attack.
What on earth?
Hiccupping, I sat upright. My hands shook as I picked up the dollar bill.
An American dollar bill.
But it wasn’t folded like normal money. It wasn’t flat or creased in half like other well-transacted currency. This was in the shape of a tiny butterfly complete with wings and delicate feelers.
The light green of the note gave the illusion the wings were made of thread and ink while its body cocooned with the numerical value of paper wealth.
It’s so pretty.
But where did it come from?
The answer was obvious.
Him.
But why?
Fingering the linen parchment, I flashed with anger. My panic attack faded, finding strength once again. Was this Mr. Prest’s way of paying me for what we’d done? Was I only worth a dollar to him?
Instead of pretty origami, all I saw was something cheap. Something that made me cheap.
Was our kiss that worthless?
Tossing it away, the flash of black writing begged me to unfold it.
I didn’t relish the notion of destroying the creation—even if it was demeaning—but curiosity itched too hard. I scooped up the little butterfly, then tugged on the folded lines to reveal the note inside.
Scrawled with masculine penmanship the letter read:
I came here to get you out of my thoughts. But you fell asleep, and I’m beginning to doubt I will ever achieve that. For a man like me, that is an issue. Therefore, I’m leaving the moment you wake up.
Goodbye, silent one.
That was it.
No odes of promises to come back or hints that he’d request to share me again. He’d had his one night and been honest enough that I wasn’t enough to capture his attention.
His words sharpened until they glittered with stinging barbs, delivering venom into my heart.
Don’t hate him.
Don’t die with hatred.
If that was the only pleasure I had, at least I knew what it felt like.
I have to tell No One.
I have to write it down so I never forget.
Mr. Prest would become a figment of my imagination, locked forever in my toilet paper novel.
I wouldn’t tell anyone about him.
I wouldn’t grow to know him or care for him.
Just one more reason why I would remain silent forever, holding my secrets.
Until the end.
HOW DARE HE fucking throw me out!
Did he think our deal would proceed as planned after such bloody rudeness? Did he honestly think I wouldn’t rip him into motherfucking pieces for the lack of respect he’d shown?
I’d hurt him for what he’d done to Pim, but I’d kill him for what he’d done to me. No one was permitted such intolerable insolence.
If he’d given me a few more minutes, I would’ve walked out the damn door on my own accord.
I would’ve run because of his slave.
That kiss…shit.
I should never have done that.
Big mistake.
Huge fucking mistake.
And now, Alrik had committed his own.
Dawn had only just broken, but I wanted out of that white hellhole. Touching her? Tasting her? Fuck me, it was more than I could handle. I had no intention of being alone with her again because I knew my issues and I knew what would happen if I did.
I was glad she belonged to another.
This way, I had no way of going back for seconds.
For an awful moment, I’d wanted him to shoot her. I pictured the bullet tearing into her brain and the light in her eyes snuffing out. She’d be gone and I’d be granted absolution.
If she was dead, she was free from me and Alrik.
I was so fucking close to letting him pull the trigger.
But even though the right thing to do was put her out of her misery, I didn’t have the balls to have her death on my conscience.
I already had enough shame to devour me.
I couldn’t handle anymore.
No, I left because she wasn’t my problem.
Her life—no matter if it was full of hell or happiness—was not my issue.
She’s. Not. Mine.
I had to believe that and accept it if I had any chance of being somewhat sane.
I’d had my fill.
Done.
Over.
“Sir?” Selix leapt from the car as I stalked toward him, slinging my jacket on. The pockets crunched with things I’d pillaged as I did up the middle button. The poor guy (true to his word) had spent the night waiting. He knew I preferred to do business on my own. I could handle my safety if a double cross went down—I di
dn’t need him for that. But I was grateful he was here to get me as far as fucking possible from this place and Pim.
She’ll be hurt.
Not my problem.
He might kill her.
Not my problem.
When I’d taken her upstairs, I’d done so with the promise to kill her afterward.
I hadn’t kept that promise.
What did it matter if it was me or Alrik who finally did it? Who cared if I was there to watch or back on the ocean where I belonged?
Fuck!
Selix cleared his throat. “Everything okay?”
Nothing’s okay.
“I want to leave. Immediately.” I jerked hands through my hair. “Is the yacht ready?”
He opened the rear door. “Yes. All prepped and ready for sail.”
“Good. I want to leave this shitty country as soon as I can.”
“I’ll call ahead. Make sure we leave the moment you step on board.” He closed the door, encasing me in the black sedan before dashing to the driver’s side.
Taking one last look at Pim’s prison, I muttered, “Take me to Phantom. Now.”
DEAR NO ONE,
I don’t know what happened.
All my notes and confessions to you…they’ve vanished. Did you take them? Please, tell me you took them. I can handle that. Tell me you’re sick of me writing to you, and you flushed them down the toilet, or burned them, or tossed them out the window.
Tell me anything as long as it isn’t that Master A found you.
Don’t tell me that!
They were there before breakfast yesterday. I checked.
I didn’t check last night as Mr. Prest kept me company.
But now, I’ve lost you.
I don’t want to lose you!
Oh, no. I hear him coming.
Shit, No One…what if he—
“You damn little bitch.” Master A shot across the room, snatched up my letter, and shredded it into confetti.
No!
My heart screamed as if he’d murdered a living, breathing friend.
“All this time, you’ve been writing and hiding it from me!”
Stop!
I cowered, slipping off the bed to bow on the floor. Any humanity and self-awareness I’d earned thanks to a few hours with Mr. Prest disappeared. I slithered back into my role as slave, pressing my forehead against the carpet.
Don’t hurt me.
Just kill me.
I wished for freedom. I begged for happiness. But I wouldn’t find either of those here, especially now my notes to No One had vanished and Mr. Prest was gone.
He’d left, knowing what I’d suffer—understanding how severe my punishment would be from him touching me.
It’s not fair!
None of this is right.
“You fucking hid these from me!” He held out his hand even as shredded words dripped from his fingers. “Give me the rest. Now!”
Tears slipped over my nose, seeping into the white strands beneath me. I ought to be relieved. Master A hadn’t been the one to take them.
He wasn’t a good liar. He preferred to gloat too much.
That meant the thief was Mr. Prest.
Why?
How could he?
A slap painted my cheek. “Give me the other pages, Pim. Don’t make me ask again.”
I don’t have them, you asshole!
How could Mr. Prest take my last possessions? Not after he stole everything with his kiss…
How had he found them?
While you slept. While you trusted.
That isn’t possible.
Is it?
“Silence won’t keep your secrets this time.” Master A paced, his body hyped on adrenaline. “Don’t tell me where they are. I’ll tear your room apart and find them myself.” Ducking to his haunches, he hissed, “And when I do, the punishment will be the second most painful thing you’ll live through.”
Wait, second?
What’s the first?
What a stupid question!
My nostrils flared as my mind tried to untangle the puzzle.
Confusion kept me befuddled, prone for his fist as it sailed through the air, connecting with an awful thunk on the side of my skull.
Oh, God…
The agony. The pressure. The throb.
Wrapping my hands over my head, I toppled sideways, biting my tongue to stop from crying.
“You can avoid that, if you tell me where the rest are. I’ll give you one last chance.”
I blinked back stars as my eyes shot around my room, doing my best to spot the pages before he could.
If Mr. Prest had found them, why did he take them? Maybe he didn’t know what the paper was and left them on my dresser or abandoned on the floor? Was that what the dollar butterfly was for? As payment for my darkest, deepest innermost thoughts?
He’s a thief.
He took my first kiss.
Just like he took my novel.
But why?
“Answer me!” Master A punched me again.
Stars became sunbursts, obliterating my vision completely.
Every inch of me wanted to crawl, run, sprint away. I couldn’t stop my mind racing.
Why did he steal my treasured words?
To read my emotions and laugh? Laugh at my stupidity and slavery?
He said he would forget about me.
Why take something to remember me by?
My hands scrabbled at the carpet as I rode through the current wave of agony. The unfolded dollar butterfly brushed my fingers—just as broken as I’d become.
Snatching it, I used it as a talisman of hope. As long as I held it, I would survive.
I hoisted myself forward, doing my best to move away from abuse.
Squatting by my head, he chuckled. “Trying to crawl from me, sweet Pim? Stupid girl. You know there’s nowhere to go; nowhere to hide. A few hours with that son of a bitch and you’re already ruined.”
My stomach roiled with nausea as he stood up again.
“But don’t worry. I’ll make sure you remember who your master is and what happens when you forget.”
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.