Page 93 of Delivered to the Devil

The next five days fall into the same pattern. My days start with Janos waking me early to let me use the bathroom before he chains me to the bed and leaves me with a bucket until he returns in the afternoon. While he’s gone, I spend most of the time sleeping. Not only did the long trip from Denmark exhaust me, but all the uncertainties, emotional upheaval, and fear keep draining whatever little energy I manage to regain. And the amount of sleep I seem to need is a bit concerning, but instead of adding it to my already overwhelming pile of worries, I welcome it. Sleeping is my refuge from the chaos that easily ravages my mind when I’m alone.

Having Janos here is as much a relief as it’s yet another source of unease. He sometimes spends hours deep in worrisome thoughts that draw deep lines in his forehead as he tries to figure out how to handle this new situation of me reappearing. I can almost hear the wheels spinning when he pulls me into his lap and holds me close. He does that a lot, and he seems to always want me within arm’s reach when he’s home. He even insists on feeding me, like he used to do before he got me out.

After regaining some sort of normalcy while I was back in Denmark, part of me finds the feeding demeaning. But when I shut off my brain and let his sharp gaze ensnare me, the most prevalent feeling is relief. Pure, utter relief for being back under his control.

It’s probably a good thing that he feeds me because I can’t seem to get much down on my own. I barely touch the food he sets out for me in the mornings until he pauses one morning beside the bed and watches me with a serious expression set in stone.

He points at the plate with food he just set on the nightstand. “If there’s a single crumb left on that plate when I return, I’ll give your ass a belting so hard you can’t sit for days.”

Then he leaves, and I make sure to eat every last bit of food before he returns.

The extra nourishment does me good, and I have more waking hours during the day. Nothing changes at night, though. I still fall asleep promptly when Janos crawls into bed behind me at night and wake within a matter of hours, drenched in cold sweat and my throat raw from screaming.

Sometimes, I’m so scared out of my mind that I can’t wrap my head around the fact that the man holding me is here to protect me. All my fear-riddled mind sees is that a dangerous man is there with me, and I’ll fight, bite, and scratch him while he holds me through the storm, whispering soothing words into my ears until my mind registers that he’s not a threat. But with the relief comes the tears. They’ll keep trickling down my cheeks while I sob and shudder until the early hours of the morning, and Janos keeps holding me, rocking me until exhaustion knocks me out.

Even though the nightmares persist and Janos’s presence often scares me, it’s a relief unlike any other to not wake up in an empty apartment. Where I used to lie stiffly in bed, scanningthe dark corners that the night light couldn’t reach, I can now release the pent-up anxiety and process everything through tears, knowing Janos will keep me safe.

***

“Come here,” Janos says one night when I come out of the bathroom, my hair wet and one of his shirts wrapped around my body. It’s all I wear these days. I can’t stand the idea of putting the oversized hoodie back on, and wearing his shirts—feeling close to him—is a welcome comfort.

Janos pats the couch without looking at me. Every other night I’ve found him like this, he’s had this look of defeat written across his face, but today there’s something purposeful about him. His body is teeming with power, and his gaze is sharply focused straight ahead instead of staring emptily into the half-empty tumbler in his hand.

I hurry across the floor and sink onto the soft cushion beside him, anxious to find out what’s going on.

He turns to me, determination sharpening his gaze. “I’m gonna try to buy you from Gabor.”

Fear, relief, confusion, and a whole slew of other emotions flush through me with a force that nearly knocks me back, setting my heart beating like it’s trying to skip from my body. The mere mention of Gabor has my mind teetering on the edge of panic, and the full minute I spend waiting for Janos to continue might be one of the most tense of my life.

“He has an important meeting tomorrow,” he finally explains. “My plan hinges on whether that meeting goes well—whether he’ll be in a negotiable mood. If it does, we’ll go to his place tomorrow night, hoping his good mood will come to our advantage.”

“W—why would you bring me to him?” I say in a thin voice. “He’ll know you betrayed him.”

“He will.” Janos takes a sip from the tumbler. “But Gabor respects a man who goes after what he wants. If I angle this right and catch him on a good day, there’s a good chance I can strike a deal with him.”

“And if not?” I grab his hand with both of mine. He gives me a reassuring squeeze, but whatever comfort he provides with his touch, he wipes out with his next words.

“Worst-case scenario, he’ll dispose of us both right then and there. But that wouldn’t be like him. I’m valuable to him. I’m one of the few men he actually listens to. Why do you think I got away with punching him when he tried to cut your feet?”

“But what if he wants to keep me for himself?”

“I won’t allow it.” Janos’s nose twitches like an animal ready to attack.

“You can’t stop him.” If Gabor wants me, he’ll take me. Janos might be as dangerous as the deadliest of warriors, but Gabor surely has a small army on his side.

“I’ll make sure he doesn’t get you.” Grabbing my chin, he leans dangerously close. “If I can’t have you, no one can.”

I should let it go and move on, but I have to know what he means even though my gut tells me it won’t be good. “How?”

“If things go sideways…” He pauses, brushing the hair from my face, and his voice softens as he curves his hand around my cheek. “I’ll put you to sleep.”

I shake my head as fear blackens my mind, infiltrating my entire system. Shivers spread through my body, settling in my muscles as my breathing stutters to work through my constricted throat.

“It won’t hurt.” Janos sets his glass aside and lifts me onto his lap, pinning me to his chest with an arm as strong as steel. “You’ll barely even notice.” Ever so gently, he wraps his handaround my throat. But instead of squeezing my windpipe like he usually would, his fingers press on the sides. “If I block the vessels in your throat, I’ll cut off the blood supply to your brain.”

Black spots dance in my vision, and a hazy feeling descends over my brain. Fear hovers somewhere in the background, but the fog is calm, and I find myself sinking into Janos, welcoming his devastating control.

“At first, you’ll just faint. But if I keep squeezing”—he applies a little more pressure, sending me deeper into the haze—“you won’t wake up again.”

---