Page 3 of Penny
The elevator ride was long, and my lungs screamed from holding my breath. Why isn't she going to a homeless shelter to shower? The elevator dinged, and I quickly walked to the door leading to my penthouse. The keys clinked together as I rushed to get inside. She hesitantly stepped forward, tentatively lowering her head to scope out my penthouse. I ripped her backpack off her before she could enter, forcing her to stumble backward, and tossed it to the floor.
"That isn't coming in here. It stinks, and Lord knows what you have.”
She repeatedly looked over at her backpack, then back at me.
"Then I'll leave," she whispered, reaching for her bag.
"Why the fuck would you leave? I have drugs and a nice shower for you to shower in."
Was she delusional? She was quiet the entire drive, which was one less thing I had to train out of her.
"Don't want your drugs. Sorry to waste your time. I'll go now," she replied, bending over and quickly hoisting the bag over her shoulders.
Did she just walk away from me? Her backside was answer enough. Enraged, I slammed my fist into the wall. My chest rose and fell rapidly. Air flooded my lungs, forcing me to take deep breaths.
"No. You stop right fucking there," I yelled, not needing to worry about neighbors. This floor belonged to me, anyway.
She didn’t turn around or acknowledge my existence. She entered the elevator, thinking she would leave just like that.
Silly, silly girl. You’re mine now.
Chapter 2
Penny?
Being homeless was a fickle thing. He assumed I wanted drugs, money, and a shower. I could use the money. That would expedite my plan, getting me one step closer to adopting a dog and purchasing a used camper van. I wanted to park it in the forest and live there so that no one could find me. I just wanted to be alone, but to get that, I needed money. If I got my hands on narcotics, I could sell them.
Hope left me as I expelled an extensive breath, readying to step into the elevator and say goodbye to this opportunity, but another possibility was snuffed out. I wasn’t astonished. The only joy in the world was stripped from my existence, stolen by the people surrounding me. It was the reason I needed to be isolated.
Hands wrapped around my throat from behind, hoisting me into the air. My backpack pressed painfully into my back, and my feet thrashed, striking at his knees. I attempted to swallow a breath, but his grip constricted any movement. What was I considering? The desperation for isolation consumed my mind, compelling me to take risky attempts for money.Such a fool.
Like always, my decisions dragged me further from contentment. My lungs shrieked in despair, and I could only blame myself. I raked my nails over his hands in hopes of inflicting any type of pain. Dizziness overtook me, and we spun around. The chandelier in the hallway outside glistened brighter through the unshed tears in my eyes. My thumping heart slowed, and my vision blurred. His steps continued, and all I could see were vaulted white ceilings.
Darkness started to consume my senses, but still, I continued to try to wheeze for air as knives sliced down my throat, tearing through my chest cavity. My blood rushed to my ears, hammering with a heavy pulse, slowing down the spinning room. I thought the fire that consumed my home was going to be my death, but the strong arms of a fireman had saved me.
Perhaps dying in the arms of a psychopath was the universe’s way of trying to catch up with me for escaping fate. A small smile pulled at the corner of my mouth, and I let my weight collapse downward.
Finally.
***
I’d donated money to animal shelters, graduated from collegesumma cum laude, and was kind. Worked day and night to fulfill my previous ambitions. None of it mattered when I must have been a cruel dictator in my past life. I’d done everything in my power to do everything right. I’d worked hard, but I was nothing. I absorbed the bad luck of the people around me.
When I’d lost my apartment to the fire, I’d been relieved, finding sanctuary in the streets. The crappy studio apartment I’d worked hard for was in ashes. It meant I could finally give up the fight, leaving me wandering the streets. The people that drove by me while I sat on the side of the road assumed I’d given up. Part of me had, but it was all part of a bigger plan.
Rain cascaded around me, and my eyes fluttered open. My naked skin pressed against the cold floors, forcing me to curl into a smaller ball. I jumped at the loud click of a door, but when I looked over my bare shoulder, I found myself alone. Murky water surrounded me, and with the temperature starting to warm, I knew I hadn't woken up on the streets.
I watched the dirt swirl into the drain. Once it ran clear, I sat up, rubbing my aching throat. Black-marbled tiles surrounded me, running along the wall to the ceiling. Extensive showerheads covered the top, pouring gallons of water on me. Incapable of stopping myself, I leaned back, opening my mouth to take large swallows.
Months earlier, I would have cried for having something safe to drink. The New York City heat and humidity extracted every drop of moisture from me to cocoon me in desperation, stifling me.
Luxury shampoos and soaps lined the shower wall. Some with names I had never heard of before. Tom Ford was the only brand I knew about. When I graduated college with my Bachelor of Arts degree, I applied for that company. Acrylic and charcoal were my favorite ways to express myself, but graphic art in marketing paid the best. Tom Ford was offering a position on their marketing team, and I would have gotten it if someone hadn't rear-ended me, making me late for my interview.
I’d gotten a flat tire on my way for the next interview with a different company. Then the following one, I’d gotten COVID. The funny part about that was I’d never even left my apartment. To save money, I’d lived off the remnants of my pantry, eating ramen and canned tuna. The virus must have come in through the mail or by touching my doorknob.
I’d finally landed a local health food grocery store position a few months later. There, I’d designed their coupon ads and sale posters. It hadn't paid well, but I’d gotten by. Soon though, I’d started to realize that I absorbed people's bad luck. Being alone was my only option.
The smell of tea tree tingled my nose as I filled my palm with shampoo, making me sneeze. My knots were thick on the back of my head, which made getting the shampoo to my scalp difficult. Should have cut it all off when I came across rusty scissors in an alley. Thick curly brown hair didn’t do well on the streets.
