Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 86717 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86717 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
He shook his head. “So much for more firsts, Pim. I’m sorry.”
Master A’s red face flowed like lava as he harpooned the air with the gun. “Out!”
“You’ll regret this.” Mr. Prest lowered his jaw, watching him from murderous eyes. “I’ll make you curse everything that you are.” Pointing a finger at me, he snarled, “Don’t fucking hurt her. It’s my fault—not hers. Let me fix my own mistakes.” Throwing me one last unreadable look, he vanished out the door.
Wait, you can’t go!
The moment he’d disappeared, Master A smirked. “I guess I won that, huh? Shit, that makes me hard.” He kissed my cheek. “Get in the shower. I have something special planned for you.” With the threat lingering in the air, he pushed me away and followed his unwanted guest, leaving me alone with Tony.
Tony—the asshole who’d shared me too many times—blew me a heinous kiss. “Do what he says, sweetie. The games will begin as soon as that bastard is gone.” He turned to go, then paused. A loud cackle fell from his lips. Bending over, he scooped up the knife Mr. Prest had stolen from the garage.
My heart sank even further into quicksand.
Shit.
Tony whipped around, tapping the blade against the baseball bat he’d beaten the door with. “Hiding contraband now, sweetness?” His chuckle sickened me. “We’ll just add that to the tally of your bad behaviour and make sure you learn your lesson.”
He saluted me with the knife. “See you soon.”
He left.
His steps echoed as he skipped down the stairs, cracking the baseball bat on the banister.
A panic attack swooped in on killing wings, suffocating me instantly.
I can’t breathe.
The room squeezed.
Stagnant unhappiness rained.
Tears ran backward down my throat as I forbid them to stream from my eyes.
I was grateful Master A had gone.
But I screamed at the hole Mr. Prest left behind. A hole that’d been warm and almost content for a few stolen hours now whistled with gales of cavernous fear.
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.