Pennies (Dollar #1)(12)

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.