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.
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.”
Master A snarled, “It’s not just a boat. It’s a floating city. No, it’s more than that. It’s an ark, you idiot. And I need fucking protection.”
Darryl smirked. “You finally run out of money, A? Loan-sharks gonna come knocking?”
“None of your damn business.” Master A suddenly laughed. “Let’s just say, the only sharks I want around me are the ones beneath my fully armoured yacht where I can nuke the shit out of them.”
“Good one.” Tony guffawed.
Their voices were as nauseating as razors on glass.
I hated this part. The anticipation of what they’d do. The ease of conversation between friends before they hurt me just for fun.
I looked behind them, tensing for Monty to join in. But there were no more visitors.
I should be glad. Today, I only had to entertain three instead of four.
You can do this.
You’ve done it a hundred times before.
So why did this feel so much worse?
“Right, enough chit-chat. Let’s get st
arted.” Undoing the rope from around the coffee table leg, Master A hoisted me upright with a yank and a well-placed kick to my thigh. The moment I went from ball to straight, he let the rope dangle between my naked breasts. “I can’t believe that bastard. He touched Pim. He touched my Pim. He was about to fuck her, the cunt.”
That’s not true.
And I couldn’t unscramble why I was frustrated with that. Why did he threaten me with sex but never follow through? Had I failed in some way? Did he decide I was too high risk to sleep with?
If he was wary of sleeping with a slave girl because of diseases, he didn’t have to worry. I’d lost my virginity to this ogre and his friends all underwent tests before Master A let them near me.
“He’s gone now. It’s time for her to pay.” Darryl licked his lips, pacing away with Master A and Tony, their heads bowed together, discussing my punishment.
They loved this part—making me stew, building my terror.
They muttered and cursed too low for comprehension. Occasionally, a loud swear rent through the room, widening my eyes. Finally, when the itch of the coarse rope around my neck became too much to bear, and my fingers turned white protecting my dollar butterfly, Master A slapped Darryl on the back. “Yes, you’re right. I didn’t want to, but I’m sick of giving her so many chances.” His gaze met mine, dark and depthless. “She doesn’t want to talk? Let’s give her that wish.”
What?
What does that mean?
Tony stood back, crossing his arms as Darryl smirked. “Hear that, girl?” Pacing to the couch where he’d placed his black duffel, he unzipped it. “How cool is that?” Tugging something free, he kept it hidden as he moved toward me. “You’re the one who decided we’re not worthy of your voice. I think it’s only fair others aren’t privy to it, either.”
Master A stuck his face in mine. “You spoke to him last night, didn’t you? You whispered to that fucker as he thrust his fingers inside you. You begged for more and pleaded for him to rescue you.” His hand shot into my hair, tearing a few more stands in his outrage. “Answer me, Pim. You’ll speak to him but not to me!?” A maniacal laugh fell from his lips. “Well, not for long. That Prest bastard is gone. Our contract is signed. And he’ll never see you again and for sure never hear you again.”
Cackling like a mad beast, he snapped his fingers.
Darryl came forward instantly.
I jerked, looking between the two men and the horrendous item in Darryl’s hand.
Large shears.
The kind to cut bolts of fabric or slice through pieces of metal.
I gulped.
No…
Squirming, I tried to wriggle away, but Master A punched the side of my head already swollen and tender. I fell to my knees, clutching the carpet as the room yawed and swayed. While my kneecaps hollered and my skull fought against cracking, I was helpless to prevent anything else.
I was hopelessly lost as hands rolled me onto my back.
Knees pinned my hips.
And cold laughter filled my ears as rancid fingers pried open my mouth and pinched my tongue.
Master A’s voice whispered around me. “You refuse to talk, my dear sweet Pim? Now, you’ll never talk again.”
Chapter Thirty
Elder
Dear No One,
Is it wrong that I still hate her?
After a year of being someone’s toy, I should harbour no ill feelings to those who never hurt me. I should be grateful to my mother for giving me life—even if I hate it.
I was lucky before I was sold. I had smiles and school and safety.
But that’s gone now. And I hate that I didn’t appreciate what I had before it was stolen.
He took my virginity without any pre-sex whispers with my mother or giggles over silly boyfriends. Not that she would’ve indulged me in such things. But now, we will never speak again. She doesn’t know me anymore. She has no idea what I’ve lived through. I hate that she isn’t there for me. I hate that she hasn’t searched and found me.
I hate that I’m no longer her daughter.
I’m his.
I hate that I’m gone to her, but I’m still here.
I’m still here, No One.
Fading, crumbling, decaying.
But still here.
* * *
Dear No One,
Today, he broke a bone for the first time. You’d think I would be more afraid, more in pain. But I’m not.
I expected this the moment Mr. Kewet killed me only metres away from my mother. The minute his fingers went around my throat and he stole my watch, I wasn’t living anymore—merely a corpse brought back to life to serve.
He might have given me CPR, No One, and saved a few years of heartbeats, but I died that day and didn’t get back up.
So what is a broken bone next to death?
It’s nothing.
I’m nothing.
I just want it all to stop.
* * *
“Stop the car.”
What the fuck am I doing?
That question was getting bloody old.
My fingers shook as I ripped through toilet paper scribbles, one after another. When I’d pushed my hands through the headboard last night, trying to get comfortable on Pimlico’s hard mattress, I’d found something soft sticking from a crack in the wood.
Pimlico had distracted me from that first touch, and I’d kept busy writing a note and folding her the small origami gift. However, once the butterfly was formed, I couldn’t stop my fingers trailing back to what they’d found.
I’d tugged.
And a fucking storybook spewed into my hands.
I should’ve stuffed it back where it belonged. I should’ve respected her privacy. But as the mute girl slept beside me, her breathing just as silent as everything else about her, I read a few lines.
And I couldn’t fucking stop.
I learned about her time in the trafficking hotel and a market-place called the QMB. I learned she’d lost her virginity to that raping bastard, Alrik. I learned about her hatred for her mother, her homesickness for her past, and just how desperate her world had become.
My heart (that’d long ago calcified to the hardship of others) thudded for the pain she’d endured. She’d lived through more than anyone ought to face.
However, it didn’t change facts.
I’d bartered for one night with her. That was all I wanted. All I could have.
So when she’d stirred, and guilt infested me for reading her private thoughts, I’d resumed stroking her skinny back. I’d shoved fistfuls of her pages into my blazer pocket because I had no other choice. It wasn’t right to take the only possession she had in a world where she had nothing—but that was who I was.
A thief.
With deeper issues I couldn’t control.
I stole because I loved it.
But also for another reason.
Her story was mine now.
I justified the robbery by tracing my fingers over the beads of her spine, following contusions and blurs, giving her sweetness after so long of none. I expected her to flinch and wake, but she’d burrowed into the sheets, murmuring unconsciously and giving me so much fucking trust.
I’d found such reward in that. That she sought comfort in my touch even though I’d borrowed her from a master who treated her like shit.
The partition between Selix and me slid down with a soft whir. “Sir? Did you just say turn around?”
My fingers tightened over the soft papyrus where Pim had spilled her darkest confessions. “Yes. Now.”
“But…you’ll miss—”
“I don’t fucking care. Do it.”
Every inch of me craved to go home. To feel the sea beneath my feet and put this shitty debacle, including the night I spent with Pim, in my wake. But I also couldn’t ignore that she would die because of me.
She might already be dead.
He could’ve shot her.
It would’ve been kinder than othe
r things he might do.
I’d accepted her death, believing it was the best thing for everyone. But she’d paid too much. She was owed something better before dying so damn young.
She was worth more than a bloody grave.
So fucking what no one was there for me when I’d been at my lowest? So what no one had helped me?
I could help her.
I could do the right thing…for the first time in my godforsaken life.
Her imaginary friend, No One, had cared for her up till now. And if I couldn’t protect her better than a fucking fictional entity, what sort of man did that make me?
A coward?
Cold-hearted?
Honest about the fucked-up nature of the world?
You could have her for yourself.
The thought wasn’t new. She was a slave, after all. And I was a rich bloody bastard. I could buy her from him. I could keep her locked away to use whenever I wanted with no distractions from my company.
The idea was far too appealing.
She’d be a pet.
An unseen, unknown pet. I wouldn’t have to take her for walks or give special treats. As long as she had food and a place to rest, she would have a much better quality of life with me than she ever would with Alrik.
But why would I buy her when I could take her?
I shouldn’t.
I should leave before I hurt her more than Alrik ever could. But I’d lied when I’d folded the origami butterfly with my note inside.
I couldn’t forget her until I’d taken what I needed from her. And what I needed wasn’t fulfilled yet.
I want to fuck her.
Once.
A single time.
Then, I could either sell her or free her. One thing was for sure, I wouldn’t keep her for long. It wasn’t possible for a man like me.
But for a short while…
“Yes, I’m sure. Turn around.”
“Right away, sir.”
Screw keeping business separate from pleasure.
I was a thief.
And I would steal the silent girl and make her talk.
Chapter Thirty-One
Pimlico
MY heart relocated into my mouth, bouncing on my tongue like it was a damn trampoline, uncaring that the sharp shears would soon cut off the one piece I desperately wanted to keep.
Modern Fairy Tale Page 267
