Pennies (Dollar, #1)

by Pepper Winters

Silence was a weapon I could wield better than panic. And if it meant I never uttered another word until I found freedom, then so be it.

My life, on the other hand, would increase in value, growing wiser and richer in experience the longer I survived. I was an investment, not a liability. And I would invest everything I had into giving myself a future.

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.

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.

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?

His hair was blacker than black, looking like an ink spill on the death of a perfect night. His gaze matched the coal depths, hiding so much but taking everything in.

Once someone enticed thoughts of suicide into their soul, it was there to stay, slowly corrupting them until they found their way back to life or gave in and let demise claim them.

Reverence for those wiser, older, and smarter than you. Appreciation for those kinder, gentler, and nicer than you. And utmost worship for those who could fucking annihilate you without a single thought.

The world had two types of people. The first were the takers. They only noticed those who could help them, offering friendship for false reasons—their egos preventing improvement of their superficial interest. The second were the givers. Those who knew they were being taken advantage of but couldn’t stop it. They’d give and give until they had nothing left. But by giving, they saw things, watching silently in the shadows.

‘Listen with your entire body, not just your ears. Watch with your entire being, not just your eyes. And judge with your entire soul, not just shallow perception.’

shivered as the same hand that vibrated with violence fell back onto my body. One moment, vicious and resolute with cruelty, the next, serene and tranquilizing.

Something was to be said about cruelty. Give nothing but barbarity and that was all that was expected. Give tenderness mixed with persecution and the fall from hope hurt far, far worse.

Leaning forward, he snatched the dress from my hands and threw it on the floor. “Fuck, it’s worse than I thought. So much bloody worse.”

A few seconds ticked past as his eyes roamed over me. Finally, he whispered, “You’re more black than white and more blue than healthy pink, but you’re not shy about revealing it.”

Even malnourished and far too skinny, she had a certain beauty about her. Her green eyes were the largest I’d ever seen. Her dark hair hung limp and lifeless, but the colour still spoke of a richness that hadn’t entirely dulled.

A kiss. His tongue slipped into my mouth. My chin arched on its own accord, desperate for passion even when I didn’t know what it was. Bubbling, bulldozing heat whipped like horse-galloping chariots in my blood.

I leaned into the kiss, giving him a soundless reply that yes, I wanted him to kiss me, that yes, I was grateful for what he’d given me, even though I still loathed him for using my father’s nickname for me.

I wanted to live in this moment for eternity. I wanted to find self-worth and happiness in this false togetherness. I wanted companionship but by wanting that, it made me weak because I wanted to lean on him after leaning on myself for so, so long. I liked him.

“Did you behave, Pim?” I looked down, hiding behind sleep-tangled hair. Fuck off, you mutant!

Mr. Prest was the only man who’d been nice to me. I won’t watch him die. Instinct controlled my body. Impulse overrode sanity and submission. I did something I’d never done. And I didn’t do it for me. I did it for him.

Mr. Prest glowered. “You’re a cunt.”

But she’d paid too much. She was owed something better before dying so damn young. She was worth more than a bloody grave.

“I’m sorry for what I’m about to do. I’m sorry for what I am. You’re worth pennies, but I’ll make you worth fucking millions. However, what I expect in return will be unpayable.”