Page 60 of Delivered to the Devil

CHAPTER 28

“High Water”

by Sleep Token

Rebecca

I feel utterly broken when I show up at work late in the morning the next day. All night, I’ve been crying. It wasn’t until the first light of day filtered through the curtains that I found some peace and drifted off in Janos’s arms.

When I woke again, I was still wrapped in strong arms that felt like they could protect me from even the worst of dangers this world has to offer. In a way they can, but at the same time, they’re the most dangerous arms I’ve ever encountered. But maybe that’s what makes his protection so powerful.

I couldn’t make myself leave his embrace, and we lay there for a long time before I finally had to tumble out of bed in a hurry to get ready for work.

“Stay at home today,” Janos said. But even though I badly wanted to, I had to go. I can’t lose this job. If I do, I’ll get swallowed up by the darkness that has already taken so much from me.

It ends up being a short day, though. András comes to eat lunch with me a few hours into my shift, and he sees that I’m not feeling well. Usually, he finds me at the stern if I’m on break—even when it’s raining—but today I’m hiding in a corner of the kitchen, poking at my food.

I startle, almost dropping my plate, when he comes up to me and puts a hand on my shoulder. “Is something wrong, Rebecca?”

I shake my head without meeting his eyes. I feel physically ill. My vision is blurry, my head pounding, and my stomach is twisting and turning like the few forkfuls of food I’ve managed are about to come up. But the physical discomfort is not the worst part. It’s the anxiety. The inability to be near the water.

It breaks my heart that Gabor has robbed me of the only thing I had left that could truly bring me peace.

“You look pale.” András takes the plate from my hands and sets it aside, then grabs my arms and turns me to face him. “Go home. Spend the rest of the day in bed. I don’t want you coming in tomorrow if you don’t feel better. I’ll make sure no one cuts it from your pay.”

Touched by his genuine concern, I wipe at the tears pooling in my eyes and manage a weak, “Thank you.”

***

The next day, I feel better physically, but walking around on the boat, seeing the water just outside, makes my heart pound and my breathing work in shallow drags. I try to remain in the middle of the boat and avoid looking out the windows. It’s not easy. Windows are all around me, and whenever I linger my gaze at the water, panic builds with frightening speed, and I hurry to the bathroom where I shut myself in.

András drops by to see how I’m doing, and he almost sends me home when he finds me huddling in the windowless kitchen, having volunteered to do the dishes all day.

“Please don’t send me home,” I say, knowing a few days off won’t cure this.

His gaze narrows as he studies me, but he ends up letting me stay when I repeat the plea in a thin voice.

I have no idea what he’s thinking, but he clearly sees that something is wrong. He stays for almost an hour, helping me with the dishes while discreetly probing to find out what’s going on. I keep redirecting the conversation or simply not answering, and after twenty minutes, he finally drops it in favor of trying to cheer me up with stories about babysitting for his sister instead.

It helps a little, but the pounding anxiety slams back into me the moment I step out of the kitchen and feel the water closing in on all sides.

My new fear of water doesn’t just extend to the boat and the river. The mere idea of getting into the tub has my chest constricting, and when Janos draws a bath for me and tries to lower me into the water, I cling to his neck, crying like he’s sending me off for slaughter.

“The water is nice and warm,” he says, dipping a hand into the tub, then trailing it over my cheek. But it makes no difference; I only tighten my grip on his neck. “You just need to overcome the first step, then you’ll find comfort in the water like you always do. I promise I’ll stay right here with you.”

“Get me out of here,” I scream, clawing at his neck as desperation sets in.

My aquaphobiaonly gets worse over time. A few days after Gabor’s drowning games, I can barely enter the bathroom. The mere sight of the tub sends me spiraling into a heaving panic. So I resist the urge to pee until I’m about to burst and Janos forces me to the bathroom. I’m so out of it I don’t even ask for privacy when he stays at my side, stroking my hair and telling me I’m safe. I just cling to him as I empty my bladder. What’s thepoint in fighting anyway? He’s seen me in far more humiliating situations.

I’m surprised Janos doesn’t get sick of escorting me to the bathroom and watching me washing myself in the kitchen sink. He could easily order me to pull it together and stop acting like a child, but I think he knows, as well as I do, that something in me might snap for good if he forced me into the tub.

Eventually, he does start pushing me, although gently.

“I want to take you into the water,” he says one evening, crouching in front of me like I’m a frightened child.

I pull my legs up in front of me, hugging them tightly as I shake my head.

“Come,” he insists, getting up and holding out his hand to me.

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