Page 78 of Delivered to the Devil

“Stress, trauma…” The doctor takes off his glasses to watch me as he speaks. “When exposed to physical or psychologicalabuse, the body loses a good deal of resistance.” He raises his eyebrows in question, once again hoping for some kind of information about what happened to me.

I turn my eyes to my hand in András’s tight grip, hoping the lingering question will magically disappear. I can’t tell this stranger what happened. He surely already knows too much after studying my body while I was unconscious. He probably even knows I have been raped and that it has been going on for a long time.

“How long will you keep her here?” András asks, saving me from the hovering tension, and I squeeze his hand in a silent thank you.

“If you remain stable, we’ll transfer you to a hospital in Denmark in a couple of days,” the doctor says. “They’ll probably keep you there for a few days. So it will be at least a week before you’re home in your own bed.” When I lift my gaze again, his eyes are sympathetic, like the prospect of my own bed is supposed to soothe me. But he doesn’t know I don’t have a bed waiting for me back in Denmark, and his words are more unsettling than comforting.

“What about nerve damage?” András’s mouth flattens into a straight line as he addresses the doctor again.

“Nothing too serious. You may experience reduced sensitivity in some areas, but there was no severe damage to any nerves. However, we’ll perform a neurological test in a few days to be sure.”

“And scars?” András asks, eyes darkening like he knows a bad answer is coming.

The doctor sighs. “I would suggest that you see a plastic surgeon as soon as you get home. It might be possible to alleviate the scarring somewhat. But the infection was too severe to let the wounds heal normally.” He watches me for a silent moment asif to see if I have more questions, and when I remain silent, he says, “I’ll be back tomorrow to check on you.”

The moment the doctor leaves, tears start trickling from my eyes, and within a few minutes, I’m weeping, burrowing my head in my hands as I try to rein it in.

“Scoot over.” András gives me a gentle nudge as he hops onto the bed. Wrapping his arms around me, he pulls me to him, and the moment I sink into his embrace, a heavy sob shudders through my body, dragging me deep into the grief I’ve repressed for so long.

***

Exhaustion is my constant companion, and I spend most of the day sleeping. At one point when I wake up, I see the small brown teddy bear with big green eyes on the table next to the bed. I shoot my arm out to grab it, but a sharp jolt of pain stops me mid-motion. Whimpering, I squeeze my eyes shut as pain licks like fire across my skin.

The pain meds they have me on must have worn off, and I realize I haven’t healed nearly as much as I thought.

András jumps up from the chair, causing his book to fall to the ground. “Are you okay?” Placing a hand on my shoulder, he urges, “Rebecca? Do you need me to get the doctor?”

Hunched over and grabbing my stomach, I shake my head and point at the bear.

“This one,” he says with a frown as he lifts the bear from the table. He looks as confused as when I asked for Janos. He surely knows I got the teddy from Janos, and he doesn’t understand how I can need anything Janos gave me this badly. András must know it’s not Janos who did this to me, but he also seems to know that he’s not innocent. He probably thinks he’s as much of a villain as Gabor.

But he’s not. He was my only lifeline. The one who brought me back to the world and gave me a reason to go on when all I wanted was to disappear.

Realizing how I’m mentally defending him, I almost want to laugh at myself and my broken mind. Because Janosisthe villain. And when it comes down to it, he’s the worst of them all. He might not have been the one to wield the knife, but he’s the one who brought me to Gabor in the first place. He’s the one who broke into my apartment, tied me up and held me down every time Gabor wanted to use me, and he’s even the one who pushed me underwater when Gabor wanted to play drowning games.

But despite my urge to laugh, I can’t get a single chuckle out. I can barely even breathe. My chest is tight with hurt and grief, and when I lift a hand to my face, I realize my cheeks are wet.

“Please give me the bear,” I beg when András keeps watching me with a baffled expression.

He hesitantly gives me the teddy, and when I feel its soft fur in my hands, I feel like I can breathe again.

Slowly lowering myself back onto the mattress, I hold the bear out before me and stare into its big, innocent green eyes. I can’t even begin to count the times I’ve stared into those eyes when everything seemed hopeless and empty. It’s been a small light flickering amidst the darkness—a hope that something more could be, that maybe someone cared about me. And maybe he did, maybe he didn’t. As much as I doubt it, looking into those eyes always makes me believe, and this time is no different.

I clutch the teddy close to my chest, wincing as I press it against my wounds, but keeping it pressed close, nonetheless.

András must see the pain written all over my tight features because he reaches for the button the nurse showed me, and before long, the burning sensation dims.

“How did it get here?” I ask in a hoarse voice when I can finally think about something besides the mix of pain and relief the teddy causes.

“Janos asked me to give it to you,” András explains, his jaw ticking with restrained anger.

I open my mouth to tell him how Janos took care of me and tried to make things better for me, but before I say the words, I realize how crazy I would sound. András would say that I have Stockholm syndrome and it’s a reaction to trauma. And maybe part of it is. But another part of it is real. Janos sensed it too; otherwise, he wouldn’t have made sure I got the teddy bear.

The only thing I have left of him is this little teddy. I don’t even have a picture of him, and my chest tightens as I think about how he’ll slowly fade from my mind, the image of him growing blurry until I can’t remember more than a faint outline.

I won’t even be able to keep his memory alive by talking about him since everyone would see me as a poor victim or a crazy person who needs help. It would take me straight back to the scandal that caused me to flee my hometown in the first place. Not even my sister could hide her outrage after my mother had told her what she found on my laptop. No, my sister would send me straight to the loony bin if she heard me speak about Janos.

A thought shoots into my head, and I jerk upright. “Little Sofie!” I exclaim. “He’s going to kill her!”

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