Page 31 of Delivered to the Devil

These items always bring a smile to my lips, and I grow more convinced by the day that this is Janos trying to reassure me. And it works. The daily meal on my hallway floor soon becomes a small sanctuary in my day—a brief moment of peace that allows me to breathe freely.

Usually, the items hold some kind of meaning or reference, but one day, I get an item I can’t figure out. It’s a small teddy bear with huge green, glittering eyes. I don’t have any teddy bears, nor do I have anything green and glittery, and I refuse to believe the token is random.

I pace through my apartment with the teddy in my hands, studying my surroundings, studying the bear. But I’m no closer to an explanation when I leave for work. So I stuff it into mybag and continue pondering as I walk around the restaurant, clearing tables and doing dishes.

It’s only when I catch a glimpse of myself in the tall mirror near the entrance that I have my answer. The setting sun reflects through the mirror to cast a warm light into my eyes, making them sparkle. They are large and green, just like the teddy’s, and my face is framed by the same dark brown hair as its fur.

I’m stunned. How can he compare me to a teddy? People often say I look sweet and innocent with my wide eyes and round cheeks. At least they used to. But the strain marring my features and the shadows in my eyes have sullied whatever innocence I exuded. And how can Janos see anything pure in me after having witnessed me being stripped of all dignity so many times?

Even so, I can’t let go of the idea that he might see something untainted in me, and the teddy ends up on my nightstand where it can watch over me when Janos isn’t there to do it.

Despite being the one causing me the most harm, I’ve come to think of Janos as my protector. When I wake to find him in my chair, a calm feeling settles over me—even knowing what he’s going to do. But when he enters my apartment with the scrawny henchman at night, I’m terrified.

There’s never any commotion when they come. They just let themselves in with the key they must have bribed someone to make. The silence is terrifying, really. Suddenly, they just stand there like two apparitions.

It’s awful never knowing when they come. Several days can pass between their “visits,” or they may come two nights in a row. Sometimes, they’re already here when I get back from work, and sometimes, they come several hours later.

My reaction is just as inconsistent. Despite knowing how futile it is, I often use up all my energy fighting them. Other nights, I accept defeat from the start and break into an endless stream of tears.

The only consistency is that they always come at night and start by stripping me naked.

From there on, there’s no telling what they’ll do. Blindfold and gag me, push toys inside me, tie me up—to a chair, to the bed, on my stomach, on my knees. Some nights, they’ll even forgo the ropes and Janos will climb into bed behind me, restraining me in his arms until Gabor comes. Those are the nights I cry the most.

There’s no rhyme or reason. I think they’re acting upon Gabor’s whims, fulfilling his orders. And when the devil himself shows up, the unpredictability continues. The nights with Gabor span from rough quickies to endless hours of sexual torture and humiliation. He still hasn’t touched my ass, but he has plenty of other ways of making me feel small and worthless and turning my body against me. Spitting, calling me names, depriving me of orgasms, giving me too many, rubbing my lust in my face—literally and verbally.

It’s horrible to live with the knowledge that I’m soon going to be abused and can’t do anything about it. The uncertainty alone is harrowing, and unless I’m so depleted I can’t stand on my own two legs, I barely get any sleep at night. Only two things will allow me any rest. The sun filtering through my curtains or Janos sitting in my chair, watching over me.

CHAPTER 14

“Leashes”

by Leprous

Rebecca

My new phone vibrates on the nightstand with yet another text from my sister. It’s been more than three weeks since I lost my phone at the airport, and a couple of days ago, I finally got a new one. Just in time for my monthly call with my sister. But I couldn’t bear the idea of talking to her and pretending everything was okay. So I texted her instead, thinking it would be easier to fake it like that. But she didn’t get the hint—or didn’t accept it—and has been calling me several times a day since my text, and I’ve been ignoring each of her calls. Today, she has finally given up and started texting me instead. Incessantly.

Call me, Rebecca. I’m serious! It’s been days!

I scoff as I read her latest text. It might have been days since I texted her, but it’s been over a month since I heard anything from her.

Clenching my jaw, I type out a reply and hit send.

Sorry, busy with work.

A new text pops up, making my insides twist.

What? You’re too busy doing the dishes?

She may think she’s better than our mother—more caring and gentle—but really, she’s just as pushy. The only difference isthat she’s not quite as cruel. So I’m not going to take her calls. It’s better like this, anyway. I’m not good at lying, and if she finds out something is going on, she might prod—call the embassy or authorities. Gabor would surely find out and think I had talked, and then little Sofie’s life would be at risk.

Fuck. I slam the phone down on the table and clutch the teddy bear in my shaking hands as I curl up on the bed.

Why can’t she take the hint and leave me alone? Then it would be so much easier to forget about the danger I’m causing her family—easier to forget all the things I’ve lost. It might not be a lot, but it’s a hell of a lot more than I have now. Freedom and possibilities. Choices and hopes. Anything is better than this narrow shell of violence and humiliation that has me in a vise.

I’m so stuck that I want to stay in bed, closed off from the world and not see or talk to anyone. Denial is a blissful thing when your world is pitch black.

It takes a while before I’m ready to face the text from my sister again. I have to pace back and forth to contain all the emotions that threaten to unravel me as I type out a big, fat lie. I wish this wasn’t my day off. Then I’d have work to distract me.

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