Just like I cling to the belief he’s still a monster, even though I know he's not. I need to. And it’s not like I’ve forgotten the things he’s capable of or the things he’s done to me. But sometimes, in those unguarded moments, I see a flicker of something softer underneath. Like the way his eyes linger when he thinks I’m not looking, or the way he grits his jaw when he’s angry at the world but never quite at me. It makes me want to believe there’s a version of this story in which I’m more than a transaction, a pawn for his pleasure or for the settling of debts.
But logically, I know better. I’m not the kind of girl who gets a happy ending. The best I can hope for is getting the mob off my back and being free to return to college.
Today, I’m allowed out on my own again, since Sir has to call into his office. I don’t have any specific schedule or errands to run this time. My time is my own to do with as I please, so I’ve decided to go for a walk in the nearby park as it’s such a beautiful day, and there aren’t so many of those now we’re heading towards winter. Then I’m going to pick up some groceries to make his favorite dinner on my way back.
It’s gorgeous on this side of town, not that I live in a bad area myself. But the affluence of this neighborhood is obvious not just in the properties, but in the outside spaces as well, so I plan to make the most of it while I can.
The park has an actual working fountain, beautiful, fragrant planting and seats that haven’t been vandalized, along with interesting modern outdoor sculptures. There’s not a deadhead to be seen, nor even the tiniest bit of graffiti. It’s peaceful and allows me to conjure my own dreams of a better life.
I'm about to head back when something catches my eye, but when I shield them against the blinding sun, whatever or whoever I thought I saw is gone. Perhaps I just imagined it. God, I hope so. I don’t want the filth tracking me here to this little oasis of calm I ‘ve created for myself.
Still, all the way home I’m on tenterhooks, watching for shadows, listening for anything that doesn’t sound right.
The hairs on the back of my neck are standing on end, and when I reach the street, I check the reflections in every shop window to see if I’m being followed.
I duck into the corner store I habitually use and hurry down an aisle to a spot where I can see out of the window without being spotted. I loiter there for a good ten minutes, until I start to draw some suspicious glances and I decide I’m being paranoid. There’s no sign of anyone and nobody I recognize has passed the storefront… I’m just jumping at shadows.
Releasing an agitated breath, I force myself to relax and pick up the items I need for dinner, but even as I'm browsing the produce section, I can't shake the lingering unease. I grab some fresh vegetables and a nice cut of meat, hoping to impress Sir with my culinary skills. Even though I know our days are numbered, I still want him to appreciate me and remember me fondly as more than just a warm body with a set of holes for his varied enjoyment.
I pay for my groceries with what little of my own money I have, safe in the knowledge I can afford to spend a little because my payday will soon be coming, and step back out onto the bustling street. The walk back to the apartment feels twice as long as usual, each step heavy with disquiet. I keep glancing over my shoulder, unable to ignore the sensation of being watched.
My heart starts thumping and I try to act natural, quickening my pace. When I finally reach the building, relief washes over me. I nod to George, the doorman, but don’t stop to chat as I hurry to the elevator, eager to be back in the safety of Sir's domain. But even as I walk inside and jab the button for the penthouse, I can't help feeling something's about to change. The air feels charged, like the calm before a storm.
As the doors open onto our floor, I fumble for my key, anxious to get inside. That's when I hear it - footsteps rushing up behind me, and I know I wasn’t imagining it after all.
Not that it matters; before I can react, a hand clamps over my mouth, and I'm shoved roughly through the door I just unlocked. The grocery bags fall from my grasp, vegetables rolling across the polished wood.
"Well, well. Hello, Linnea," a familiar voice growls in my ear. "Fancy seeing you here in this ritzy neighborhood."
"What do you want, Reggie?" I hiss, glancing around, my nerves jumping. Sir’s not back, but I don’t know if that’s a blessing or a curse.
Reggie grins, all teeth. "Just checking in on our little investment. Making sure you follow through… wouldn’t want your dear ole Ma to have a nasty accident now, would we?”
“I’ve got two more weeks before any payment is due, that’s what was agreed. Now get out of here.”
It takes everything I’ve got to talk back to him without my voice wavering. I’m not sure I’m successful, but thankfully, Reggie is distracted.
And of course, he takes no notice of anything I’ve said. He just saunters into the living room and starts poking about.
He lets out a whistle. "Your sugar daddy must have some valuable stuff lying around. Jewelry, cash, sensitive business information. You get us something good, we might be willing to forgive a chunk of that debt."
"Fuck off, Reggie," I say firmly, refusing to show my fear even though my insides are quaking. "I'm not stealing anything for you. I’ll give you what my father owed, and then you can leave us alone, like you promised.”
Fuck, I hope he does. I know the promises of mobsters and moneylenders aren’t worth shit. I know the game is rigged against those who are stupid enough to dabble in it, but if I cancome up with the money, which most people can’t, I’m banking on the people Reggie works for having a few more scruples. Which is probably naive and laughable in itself, but I need to clutch onto the belief. It’s the only thing I have left.
I scoop up the bags blocking the doorway and dump them on the kitchen counter, then hurry after Reggie, grabbing at his arm when he starts peering behind paintings, looking for a safe like they do in the movies.
Spinning around, Reggie grabs my throat, squeezing tight enough for black spots to start dancing before my eyes. I claw at his fingers, but he just laughs and gropes at my breast with his free hand, pulling me up so I’m balanced on my tiptoes and unable to get any leverage. Choking for air, panic rises within me as I realize just how vulnerable I am.
Releasing my breast, Reggie’s hand dives between my legs, and I’ve never been so glad to be wearing pants, but at least the move loosens his hold on my trachea, and I can gulp in a much-needed breath. “Maybe I’ll up the ante,” Reggie smirks. “Add a little more interest. Maybe a personal payment. I wouldn’t mind pounding this little cunt.”
I can’t help the terrified whimper that tumbles from my lips, as Reggie rubs himself against me suggestively, his erection hard against my pubic bone.
Oh god, please no.
I don’t know where I find the strength, fight or flight adrenaline I guess, but I push at him and simultaneously bring my small fist up to punch him in the side of the head with all my might. I don’t think or consider my actions; it’s pure reflex.
Reggie stumbles, his grip loosening, so I bite his hand, and he immediately backhands me, sending me sprawling. Thankfully, I land on the couch, or maybe it’s not so fortunate, since that’s the exact moment the front door slams open.
