That meant the thief was Mr. Prest.

Why?

How could he?

A slap painted my cheek. “Give me the other pages, Pim. Don’t make me ask again.”

I don’t have them, you asshole!

How could Mr. Prest take my last possessions? Not after he stole everything with his kiss…

How had he found them?

While you slept. While you trusted.

That isn’t possible.

Is it?

“Silence won’t keep your secrets this time.” Master A paced, his body hyped on adrenaline. “Don’t tell me where they are. I’ll tear your room apart and find them myself.” Ducking to his haunches, he hissed, “And when I do, the punishment will be the second most painful thing you’ll live through.”

Wait, second?

What’s the first?

What a stupid question!

My nostrils flared as my mind tried to untangle the puzzle.

Confusion kept me befuddled, prone for his fist as it sailed through the air, connecting with an awful thunk on the side of my skull.

Oh, God…

The agony. The pressure. The throb.

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?