CHAPTER 10
Three days after I was detained at the airport, my heart slams against my chest as I come home at night and see a bright splash of red color in the living room. There, in the middle of it all, is a huge bouquet of red roses. It’s so big it barely fits in the large vase.
It’s every woman’s dream. And my nightmare.
I rush to the kitchen and grab the biggest knife, clutching it in my hand as I check every nook and corner of my tiny apartment. When I’ve ascertained that no one is here twice, I return to the roses and snatch the white envelope. It’s thick in the middle as if it contains a stack of cards, and the cursive line scribbled across the paper is as neat as the roses.
I look forward to next time.
Nausea rises in my throat, and I nearly expel what little I’ve had to eat today.
With trembling hands, I fumble to open the seal.
“Argh!” I drop the knife and the envelope. My mind teeters on the edge of insanity as I pick up the latter and tear at the paper. A stack of pictures falls out, spreading over the floor.
Horror twists in my gut as I lean over to pick one up. And one more. And one more. They all depict the same thing—my sister’s four-year-old daughter with blonde locks and blue eyes. In some photos, she’s in a sandbox with a bucket between her legs, waving a shovel, her lips pulled into the cutest smile. Others show her sitting on her mother’s arm, looking over her shoulder in the direction of the camera. And finally, there are a few of her sleeping peacefully in her bed at my sister’s house.
I drop the pictures like they’re burning coals and watch them scatter over the floor anew in a horrifying collage.
There’s no note to explain, and there’s no need. The message is loud and clear. If I make another escape attempt, little Sophie won’t get to play in the sand or sit on her mother’s arm again.
I bolt to the bathroom and slam the toilet seat up just in time to throw up the meager contents of my stomach. I heave continuously, and even when there’s nothing left to expel, I keep gagging, my stomach spasming painfully. Tears stream from my eyes, and when my stomach finally gives up, I fall back against the cold tile. There, I sit for a long time, rocking myself as I sob into my knees.
How could this happen? Little Sophie is the most innocent creature on this earth. She can’t get dragged into this. She just can’t.
My sister managed to break free from our family at eighteen. She found a good man, got an education, and had Sophie a few years later. I used to visit them monthly, and even though we have never been particularly close, they were my only refuge from the meaningless life I lived.
What if something happens to them because of me? I could never live with that. The shame and self-loathing alone would kill me.
At this very moment, one thing becomes crystal clear. There’s no way out of this. No more attempts at running or trying to outsmart Gabor. The steel door has slammed shut, and I’m trapped behind it.
***
My eyes are red and swollen the next day, surrounded by dark circles. Makeup does little to cover it up even though I go with the Hungarian standards, and when I walk into the restaurant, I’m sure everyone can see I’ve cried long and hard.
It’s a warm day, the sun shining high in the sky, and with all the customers being outside, Izsák can easily throw some nasty comments my way. Like any other day, he doesn’t let a good opportunity pass.
“What’s the matter, princess? Haven’t you gotten enough dick?” He delivers the crude words with mocking pity. “I’ll be happy to give it to you good and hard when we’re done here tonight.”
The blood surges through my veins, boiling with red-hot anger. Something snaps inside me—something that has been hanging by a thread for a long time.
Grabbing the first glass I see, I throw it to the ground. “Enough!” I shout as glass shatters all around me. “Don’t you get that other people have problems too?”
Izsák’s eyes go wide with fury. He slams me up against the wall, and my head jerks back into the concrete with a jarring jolt of pain.
Smacking his hand up between my legs, he grabs my pussy and growls, “You fucking cunt, if you don’t control that Western tongue of yours, I’ll fuck your filthy mouth so hard I’ll never hear a fucking word from you again.”
I shove him back with all my might, and even though he’s undoubtedly stronger than me, he crashes into the table behind him, glass crunching under his shoes. I’ve known all along. This man doesn’t have it in him to truly harm a woman. His threats are empty—all bark and no bite.
I simply stride past him and leave the restaurant.
***
Early the next evening, there’s a knock on my door. The only people ever coming here are the suit-clad men, and I doubt they have suddenly started respecting the boundaries of my home, so I have no idea what to expect when I go to look through the peephole.
I’m surprised to see one of the waitresses from the restaurant.
“I’m sorry to come by your home and disturb you like this,” she says when I open the door. “We have tried to get a hold of you several times. Izsák said you might have lost your phone, so he sent me here.”
Confusion has my brows furrowing. Why would he need to get a hold of me if I don’t work at the restaurant anymore? “I didn’t think Izsák would want me to show up again.”
It’s her turn to look confused.
Can it be that she hasn’t heard about my fight with Izsák? I thought he would have boasted openly about how he finally got rid of the dirty Westerner.
“He would like for you to come in when you can.” Without further question or explanation, she’s off again.
I hurry to change into my waitress uniform and put on some makeup. Then I head to the restaurant with a huge question mark turning over my head.
Izsák isn’t the forgiving type. On the contrary. After hurting his pride, I thought I’d never hear from him again. I didn’t even expect to see this month’s paycheck.
It’s not like I want to go back, but I really need the money. I can’t ask my family for help. They won’t help me unless I come back and fall in line with their warped control—and going back is not even an option anymore. And asking my sister would require me to explain what’s going on, and I simply can’t do that.
I have two choices. Crawl back to Izsák and beg for my job back, or end up on the street when rent is due next week.
My jaw drops when I enter the restaurant and see Izsák. His right arm is in a cast, one of his eyes is swollen and blue, and when he opens his mouth, there’s a dark hole where his left front tooth is supposed to be.
It takes me a full minute to get my staring under control, but he doesn’t say a word. He barely even looks at me.
A prickling sensation makes me turn and look toward the back of the restaurant. The air lodges in my throat when I see the suit-clad man in sunglasses sitting there in the shadows where he hasn’t been for days. I’m about to bolt back out of the restaurant, but then he takes off his sunglasses and my gaze collides with the sharp gray of Janos’s eyes.
Everything around me fades as time stops for a breathless moment. He gives me a small nod as if to reassure me that everything’s okay—that Izsák won’t bother me again. Then puts his sunglasses back on.
I blink my eyes and shake my head as if waking up from a strange dream. Reality returns to my awareness as I glance around my surroundings. The tables, the customers, the beaten-up Izsák, and the suit-clad man. My breathing flows calmly, I realize as I linger on him, and as I go about work, I find that I can breathe a little freer with Janos close by, watching over me.