CHAPTER 41
A week later, Spike drops me off at a metro station on the outskirts of Budapest at six in the morning.
After eighteen hours in a car, I’m exhausted, my muscles are achy, and my body is sticky with sweat. I barely got any sleep during the drive, and when we got close to the border, Spike told me to get into the trunk, where he buried me beneath a thick pile of musty blankets and clothes and told me to stay quiet. There I stayed for two hours until we finally reached this desolate train station.
From here on, it’s up to me to get to Janos unnoticed. It’s tempting to find a hotel and get some sleep before I go on, but I won’t let anything get in my way. I need to get to Janos as soon as possible. Every wasted minute is one more minute that increases the risk of Gabor finding out I’m here. I know I’m probably being paranoid, but I’ve learned the hard way that no amount of paranoia is too much when dealing with Gabor.
Spike pulls the hood on my oversized hoodie over my head and confirms my reason for caution, “Keep it on at all times. You can’t be too careful.”
Taking Ricco’s advice, I’ve dressed in jeans, a hoodie, and sneakers to look as anonymous as possible. Everything I have with me is crammed into the pockets of my clothes. My health insurance card, a burner phone, and a wad of Hungarian forint in my jeans, and the teddy bear with sparkling eyes and my passport in the hoodie.
“Here’s the address,” Spike says, shoving a piece of paper into my hand. “Good luck.”
He gets back into the car, and dust whirs around the wheels as he takes off. Nervousness skitters down my arms, making me shuffle and fidget. I stare after the car as it disappears down the road, almost running after it to beg him to take me back with him. But the moment I open the paper and see Janos’s name scrawled at the top along with an address, determination rises anew.
Using the burner phone Ricco gave me, I look up the address to find that it’s in the inner part of the city. It will take two trains, one metro, and one bus to get there.
Two very long hours later, I’m finally on the right street, scouring for number forty.
It’s one of the many narrow, one-way streets of the city that has parked cars lining both sides of the road and old buildings with intricate fa?ades, balconies, and decorative moldings that reflect the city’s rich history—and its current state. Half the buildings are well-kept and shiny, whereas the rest are crumbling, bearing testament to the decay and poverty that has crept in to stay.
Expecting number forty to fit the sordid category, I almost gasp when I locate it and stare up at a beautiful six-story building with fresh yellow paint, arched white windows, and twisted iron rails framing the balconies.
I don’t know why I expected a run-down house. Janos may be a criminal, but unlike back home, crime comes in so many different colors and shades in this town, and Janos is at the very top of the hierarchy, working for one of the most powerful men this country has to offer.
Instinctively, I step back when I spot a camera on the side of the building. Fortunately, my hood is pulled tight around my face, so hopefully it hasn’t caught a good picture of me.
I pull the hood a little closer and step up to the door again to look at the names on the intercom. Several of the buttons are blank, and since I only have the building number, I have no idea which one to press.
My finger hovers over a random one, but I jerk it back when I consider that it might be the right one. The idea of hearing Janos’s voice through the speaker has me flustered and doubting everything.
I have no idea what I’m doing.
How will he react when he realizes it’s me? Will he even let me in? It’s been six months, and who’s to say he hasn’t moved on and found another girl? Or that he doesn’t want that kind of a burden—especially not a jumpy, weak woman like me, marred with scars all over her upper body that will never go away.
I step away from the door and walk down the street with my head held low. I end up wandering back and forth like this, unable to do what I came here for, for a whole hour. Every now and then, I cast a glance at the beautiful, yellow building, and sometimes I veer down a side street to stop and watch it from a discreet distance. And that’s where I’m standing when the tall wooden door opens and a big, broad man dressed in a suit and black sunglasses comes out. I whip around and start walking, but when I glance back and see him going in the opposite direction, I pause.
With my pulse pounding in my throat, I stare after him. His gait is purposeful and confident, his suit ripples over his smooth muscles, and the sleeves draw up with every other step, just enough to reveal black ink on his left arm.
It’s really him.
My heart thunders as I watch him—aching for him. Before I know it, I’m walking too. Following him.
I have no idea what I’m doing; I just know I need to be close to him. But not too close. As I watch the lethal power in his firm strides and wide build, fear creeps along my spine—a fear all too similar to the one I felt when I lay beneath my bed the first night and felt his massive hand close around my arm as he dragged me out. All my instincts screech for me to get away from him, yet there’s a part of me that pounds with aching longing for him. So I keep following, not closing the distance and also not lessening it.
He turns down several streets, and I barely notice where we’re going until he goes into a passageway like the one that led into the courtyard at the apartment Gabor got for me. I pause, considering what to do—wait at a distance for him to return or follow into the courtyard. But I can’t think. My pulse pounds and my head whirs. All I know is that I’ve lost him—I can’t see him—and that scares me more than anything. So I set off down the street at a brisk pace until I reach the passageway, where I pause at the corner, carefully peeking into the wide opening.
It’s a deep gate cutting through the first floor of the building, and there’s another opening in the building across the courtyard that he could have easily gone through. Drawing back, I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Then I step into the dark passageway and make my way forward on stealthy feet. I don’t know why I’m acting like a monster is waiting for me in the courtyard; Janos must have surely gone into the building or into the opposite street. Yet my pulse keeps speeding up with each step I take, but all that appears are more windows and the corners of the courtyard.
With a sigh, I pause at the end of the passageway and my eyes roam across the empty space. I take a step forward, into the light, but my foot barely connects with the ground before someone shoves me back into the darkness. It happens so fast that all I see is a shadow before my cheek is pressed against the raw concrete wall and my arm is in a tight lock behind my back.
“Miért k?vetsz engem?” a deep voice snarls against my ear as a massive hand grabs the back of my neck.
My heart pounds away with a force that has my knees trembling. But it’s not fear driving up my pulse anymore. It’s relief. Pure, earth-rattling relief.
It’s him. His touch, his size, his voice, his strength. I feel it all too clearly despite the barrier of my hoodie.
I slacken in his hold, instinctively giving in to his control even though it’s cold and detached as on the first night. I don’t care how I get it, I just want it.
My surrender seems to cause some reaction within him. His hand on my neck tightens and loosens a few times, almost like he’s feeling for something. Maybe recognition? But then his grip becomes punishing as he growls into my ear.
“Why are you following me?”
I’m too overwhelmed to react. The sound of his voice is a shock to my system—a blissful mind-numbing shock that paralyzes me. It takes me a full minute to get a choked word out.
“Janos—” My voice breaks off. The feeling of his name on my lips is too much. Tears well in my eyes, and my jaw starts to tremble.
Time stops. Janos stiffens and his hot breaths against my ear halt. A deep growl sets his breaths rolling again, this time at a hastened speed. His hand slides around my neck to wrap around the front. It’s slow and gentle, almost probing as if he’s feeling for something—checking if it really is me.
I draw in a sharp breath at the feeling of his strong hand directly on my skin. The shaking spreads through my body, and I rest my head against the collar of his hand, closing my eyes as I soak up the safety—the danger.
His thumb makes a single swipe across my skin. It’s achingly tender, but gone in a second. In the blink of an eye, he releases me and spins me around, slamming my back into the unforgiving wall. His nostrils flare as he stares down at me with furious eyes.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
I flicker my eyes across his angry features, and suddenly, I’m not sure myself. My reckless bravery goes swoosh, and all I feel is stupid and na?ve as I realize he doesn’t want me here.
Turning my head to the side, I pant through the pressing grief in my throat and blink away the tears in my eyes.
“Answer me,” he growls, shaking me by the arms.
When I won’t meet his eyes, he grabs my arm and yanks me away from the wall. “You shouldn’t be here.” He hauls me out of the passageway, back in the direction from which he came.
When I dare a glance up at him, he’s staring straight ahead, his face cold and closed off.
“Keep your head down,” he snarls with a bite that’s unusual even for him.
Startled, I lower my head and glue my eyes to the pavement.
His cold demeanor is a slam to the gut, and I want to break free from his grasp and run away—abandon my foolish plan that I knew, deep down, couldn’t bring anything good. But even if I had the slightest chance of escaping him, I couldn’t do it. Because even though he’s clearly not happy to see me, the thought of being away from him is even worse than being unwanted and at his side. There’s no self-preservation left in the face of his powerful command.
Once we’re back at the solid wooden door that I’ve been monitoring for the past hour, he scans a plastic card that unlocks the door and shoves me inside. Without a word, he drags me into the elevator, where he scans the card again and presses number four. Fear creeps along my spine as the doors close and his simmering anger fills the tiny space.
When I try to lift my head and glance up, he shoves it back down with a tight grip on my neck, leaving only his polished leather shoes and my worn sneakers in my view.
His familiar scent envelops me in the enclosed space, and it’s almost too much. I long to reach out and feel his strong chest—the chest that I found comfort in so many times when he held me in my red chair or carried me to the shower after a hard night with Gabor. Or reach up and feel my hand disappear into his wide one—the hand that held mine when I was most broken and life was slipping through my fingers. The hand I haven’t felt for months.
A ding sounds, the elevator stops, and the doors slide open.
Janos drags me onto a balcony that stretches along the side of the building above an enclosed courtyard. I get the feeling that the security system is top-notch when he opens two locks on a solid door before shoving me into a hall and locking the door with as many locks from the inside.
I stand awkwardly in the unfamiliar hall, not daring to do anything but stare down at the shiny floor while Janos disappears into the apartment to draw the curtains and blinds in several rooms.
When he returns, he stops right in front of me, invading my personal space with his intoxicating scent and overpowering presence.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he demands.
My throat is still tight, and when he pushes my hood down, his hand gracing my hair along the way, moisture coats my eyes. I can only shake my head as I try to figure out what to say.
Grabbing my chin, he shoves my head back, boring his furious eyes into me, so I can see how cold they are in the otherwise warm light of the hall. “Do you realize how hard it was to get you out?” he accuses. “No one dares to go against Gabor. It was pure luck that your boss had the right connections and the balls to help me.”
I can’t hold myself together any longer. The dam breaks. Tears flow down my cheeks in a rapid stream, and choked sobs form at the base of my throat. I’ve never felt this stupid, not even when the whole town where I grew up treated me like a freak. I should have known he wouldn’t take me back. Whatever we had is gone. He has moved on and has no interest in me. I’m not even a job anymore; I’m just a problem he needs to get rid of.
My eyes roam over his black suit—his work uniform. He’s probably on his way out to help Gabor rape the next girl in line.
“I don’t know how to get you out safely again,” he says.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur, trying to withdraw from his grip. But he’s as hopelessly strong as I remember, and I’m getting nowhere. I’m stuck under his furious stare while humiliation, sorrow, longing, and shame flash across my features, all for him to see.
“Why the hell are you here?” He releases my chin to grab my shoulders and shake me. “Answer me!” Releasing me, he abruptly steps back and drags his hands through his hair.
I step back, out of his reach, and lower my head. He’s seen me at my most lost, vulnerable, and shameful, yet I can’t stand him seeing my tears as he rejects me. I should never have come. I don’t belong here anymore. The only thing for me to do is disappear again.
My heart hammers against my chest as I turn and reach for the door. I move quickly, but all I manage is turning one lock before a strong arm wraps around my waist and yanks me back. I yelp as I slam into a strong chest.
“What the hell are you doing?” Janos demands. “He’ll kill you if he finds you.”
“I don’t care,” I say, shoving at his arm as the tears start dripping in earnest. “Let him kill me.” Part of me means it. I had one thing left that gave me purpose and meaning, but it’s gone now. There’s nowhere else to go, so what does it matter if Gabor ends me? It’s better than being here and being rejected by the only person that matters to me. I didn’t think I cared whether he wanted me or not; I thought all I needed was to be near him. But it’s not. This hurts too much. “Let me go,” I cry, and when he still doesn’t budge, I start kicking and yelling, sniffling as my whimpers turn into choked sobs.
Janos lifts me from the floor and carries me to his bedroom.
“Let me go!” I scream at the top of my lungs.
He sets me down on the floor and yanks off my hoodie and the blouse in one go. I struggle to get free, but my flailing hands are as much of a match for his devastating competence as they were the first time he stripped me bare with force. He throws me onto the bed, and in a matter of seconds, I lose my bra, shoes, and pants too and lie stark naked and vulnerable in front of him.
Devastation claws at my lungs, threatening to pull me into helpless despair. But when he releases me to open his pants, I manage a sliver of strength as I realize this is my last opportunity to escape.
I throw myself over the bed and scramble across the sheets. I’m about to dive over the edge and make a run for it, but just as I press my hands to the floor, a hand locks around my ankle and pulls me back.
“No!” I scream, clawing at the sheets.
“You’re not going anywhere,” Janos snarls, jumping onto the bed, pinning me beneath his weight.
Déjà vu is a thick fog over my mind as I clutch the sheets and try to drag myself out from beneath him. “No. Stop!” I scream.
Shoving my head into the comforter, he snuffs out my breath, and I flail my hands behind me to push him away. But it’s not the loss of air that makes me go absolutely livid, pounding my fists into the mattress and putting all my strength into mindless writhing. It’s the feeling of his rock-hard cock prodding against my opening.
Panic and shame squeeze my already struggling lungs as my wet pussy welcomes him in and he easily shoves the tip inside. He slams in to the hilt, and the shock reverberates through my body and blackens my mind as he leans in and snarls in my ear, “I’m not letting you go again.” He pulls back and slams in again. “Never.” He keeps slamming into me with a force that has the bed moving against the floor. “Do you hear me?”
He fists my hair and pulls my head back. “Do you hear me, Rebecca?”
“Yes,” I croak at the end of a deep gasp for air. It’s all I manage before he shoves my head back down, shutting off my airways.
The grief, the regret, the hopelessness. The desperation to get away fades and morphs into a burning desire for something else.
His possession,I realize as he speaks the next words.
“You’re mine,” he growls as he keeps punishing me with his cock. “I don’t care if I have to keep you chained to my bed; you’re not going any-fucking-where.”
My mind swims, and the pain morphs into something else. Something powerful that sets a desire burning deep within my core. I forget why I resisted a moment ago and why I’m here in the first place. The only thing that matters is that I’m here with him.
“Can you feel that you belong to me?” he says as my inner walls start contracting around him, an orgasm crackling at the edges of my nerve endings.
Lifting my head, he allows me a tiny mewl as an answer.
“Your body belongs to me. It always has.” He slams even harder into me, like the force will make his words more true. “Do you remember the first time you came?”
I nod my head against his cruel grip in my hair. Gabor was licking and finger-fucking me, forcing an orgasm from my body while Janos held me.
“He might have been the one to drag the orgasm from your body.” Janos pauses and leans close to my ear again. “But I’m the one you came for. I’m the one who held you. I’m the one you clung to. It was my scent, my touch, my grip that ignited the fire inside you.”
Fuck, I can hardly think. Yet, his words hit some fundamental part of me, ringing truer than anything ever has. Gabor might have been the one to take the orgasms physically, but mentally, I was always with Janos. I never came during the weeks he kept a distance and refused to look at me. Gabor simply couldn’t make me because Janos wasn’t there with me.
The realization is a relief greater than any other. But it drowns in the burning need to breathe as the oxygen in my lungs grows scarce.
“And now you’re going to come for me again.”
Janos’s words barely register. I’m thrashing blindly beneath him as I try to turn my head, straining to access precious air. But all I achieve is painful tugs at my scalp.
He starts the punishing thrusts anew, and my world reels at the cusp of something. Death? Mind-numbing pleasure? I don’t know. My body stills, and for a moment, everything is quiet.
But then Janos rips my head up. Air whooshes into my lungs, sending shock waves through my body, colliding with the painful thrusts. An explosion of pleasure rips through my body like lightning from an open sky, making me arch and convulse as a scream tears from my lungs. And like with every strike of lightning, the roar of thunder follows.
Janos’s thrusts become jerky as he growls behind me, shooting his cum inside me.
“Oh God,” I moan, and if I didn’t believe in a God before, I do now. A tall and mighty God who holds the power to break me just as he holds the power to free my soul.
Rolling onto his side, he takes me with him and wraps me tightly in his arms, whispering close to my ear, “Why are you here?”
He has torn me apart. I can’t even hold on to the most vulnerable parts of myself, so I let the words out into the open. “I can’t stand being without you. You’re the only place I want to be.”
He turns me to gain eye contact, and this time, he doesn’t need to force me. I give him access to everything through the intimate connection of our eyes—the vulnerability, the fragileness, and my desperate, all-consuming need to be with him.
He stares at me for a while, taking it all in before he speaks. “If Gabor finds out you’re here, he’ll finish you. Maybe both of us.”
It’s not a threat or even meant to scare me. It’s a fact.
I shake my head, unable to deal with the lurking danger right now. Something else is more pressing. “Why did you send me away?” Tears gather in my eyes as all the uncertainty and feelings of abandonment resurface.
He gives me the same confused look András gave me when I asked him why he took me away from Janos.
“Why did you make András get me out?” I say.
“So you wouldn’t die here... So you could be free.”
I stare into the room behind him, feeling utterly lost. It’s only then that I notice something deep red that I seem to recognize. But it can’t be. I rub my eyes several times before my vision clears up. And there’s my red armchair, the one Janos sat in so many times, watching over me. Seeing it here, in his bedroom, gives me the courage to say what I tried to say when he left me, and what made me come back.
“Don’t you understand?” I say, staring directly into his eyes. “I don’t want to be free. I can’t be free if I’m not with you.”
The lines of his severe face soften, and his eyes go gentler. But it only lasts a moment before his expression hardens. He pulls away, gets out of bed, and starts pacing the room. I push up to sit and pull the comforter around me to hide my scarred upper body.
“Don’t you get how dangerous it is for you to be here?” he says, frustration lacing his words. “He’ll kill you if he finds you.” He runs his hands through his hair, and even though I’ve known it for a long time, it’s only now that I realize just how much the thought bothers him. “I can’t protect you here. Not from him.”
I squeeze my eyes shut as I grip the sheets. They’re as soft as the white ones Gabor always provided for me in the apartment he forced me into. But when I open my eyes, I’m relieved to find that these are a deep blue instead of a pristine white. This isn’t Gabor’s apartment. I’m not in his claws right now. And even though that may only be temporary, the relief is potent. But there’s also guilt. “I’m sorry,” I mutter, fumbling with the blue fabric.
Suddenly, Janos is over me. I fall back onto the mattress, and he crawls over me like a dangerous animal, gripping my neck. “Don’t you dare say that again. It’s fucking me who should apologize for not getting you out that night. I knew what he was going to do days before it happened, and still I let him go through with it.”
“You didn’t know how bad it would get,” I say.
He shakes his head. “I knew he was about to lose control. It always happens at some point. I usually manage to stop him before it gets that far. But with you...”—he shoves the comforter aside to reveal all the ugly scars across my torso—“I can’t think straight.”
It’s not a grand declaration of love, and it’s not even words that tell me he cares about me—at least not directly—but they’re everything and more than I need to hear.
I lean against his chest, and just like that night when he fucked me in the hall, he cups the back of my head with a tender hand and holds me close.
“I’m not letting you go again,” he murmurs into my hair. It’s as much of a promise to himself as to me. And with that, I know that I’ll do everything in my power, go through it all again, if it means I get to stay with him.
***
Janos puts his pants back on and adjusts his tie, appearing closed off and controlled once again. “I have to go. If I don’t go about business as usual, Gabor will know something’s off.”
Not knowing what to say, I pull the comforter up to my chin, desperately hoping he’ll let me stay and not send me out into the city on my own.
“Go use the bathroom,” he says, pulling out a white shirt from a closet and handing it to me.
Grateful for the small gesture, I accept the shirt and slip it on before leaving the comfort of the bed to do as he says.
“Through the living room, the first door on the right,” he instructs.
I can’t help but gape as I enter a beautiful, large, open living room. Shades of dark blue dominate the space around a large L-shaped gray couch at the center, lending the room a warm and welcoming atmosphere. The decor is simple and masculine with a few abstract paintings and a wall of gray bricks behind the couch. Janos is clearly well off, but there’s no showing off here—just like he has never needed to show off his power or strength. He knows who he is and what he has and doesn’t need to prove anything to anyone. I admire that about him, I realize as I make my way through the spacious hallway and find the same beautiful simplicity here.
In the bathroom, I pause before the long mirror and carefully peel the shirt to the sides. I swallow a lump in my throat as I see the long white welts covering my skin. The angry red color may have faded, leaving the scars a pale white similar to my natural skin tone, yet the welts stand out like streaks of blood on a white canvas—a chaotic mishmash of white shades. The sight never fails to shock me. I shove the fabric back to cover my skin and breathe a shuddery sigh as my mind mocks me with the memory of the vision of the scars that I’ll carry with me to the grave.
Shame coils tight in my belly as I remember that Janos has just seen all the ugliness. To distract myself, I turn on the faucet and splash cold water on my flushed face. I don’t have any makeup to hide my perpetually swollen eyes and the dark shades surrounding them; my face is exposed and vulnerable, telling the story of a scarred woman who can’t find peace in her existence.
After doing my business, I find my way back to the bedroom, where Janos is waiting with a handful of chains and handcuffs that clink together as he points to the bed.
I gingerly sink onto the mattress and watch as he threads the chain through one of the handcuffs, then through the bars on the headboard. Finishing the circle, he connects the two ends of the chain with a padlock that clicks shut with a metallic sound.
“Give me your left hand,” he says, holding out his palm.
Hesitantly, I place my hand in his warm, big one. “I’m not going anywhere,” I say as he snaps the cold steel of a handcuff around my wrist.
“I know.” The metal rattles as he closes the cuff around my wrist. He gives it a gentle tug and slides it back and forth, checking that it’s tight enough without digging into my skin. Turning his severe gaze to me, he brushes his knuckles over my cheek. “But I’m not taking any chances.”
He retrieves crackers, fruit, and a bottle of water from the kitchen and sets it on the bedside table along with a remote for the large flat screen on the wall. “There’s Netflix and HBO. I’ll be back late in the afternoon.”
I glance at the digital alarm clock on the nightstand. It’s only a little after nine. “What if I need to use the restroom?”
Janos leaves the room and returns with a bucket, which he places on the floor, along with a roll of toilet paper and hand sanitizer. Humiliation roils in my stomach as I watch the items, and the urge to protest crackles at the back of my mind. But I keep quiet. There’s no use in protesting. Janos has already seen me at my lowest. During our last few days together, I was so sick he had to carry me to the bathroom and stay by my side whenever I needed to go. And a new sort of worry takes precedence when I look back up at Janos.
He’s in his black suit. His work uniform.
“Where are you going?” I croak, recalling all the times he came at night, dressed in a black suit, stripping me naked and holding me down. Now he’s going to do that with another woman. “Are you preparing another girl for Gabor?” I bite my lips to hide the tremor.
“I don’t do that anymore.” He grabs my chin, boring his beautiful, dangerous gray eyes into the very depths of my soul for a potent moment before he releases me and leaves.
***
I’m still reeling from everything, trying to wrap my head around what transpired during the last hour, and I’m too overwhelmed to watch TV. Instead, I let my eyes drift across the room. Dark blue, gray steel, and clean lines dominate the space. It’s masculine and simple, like the rest of the apartment, yet warm and welcoming. Safe.
The red armchair sticks out like a sore thumb, clashing with both the color scheme and simplicity. I skip past it quickly every time my eyes roam in its direction. My mind is too muddled to grasp the meaning of it being here. But the chair is like a magnet, drawing my attention even as I lie down with my back to it. I end up turning around and just staring at it for a long time. It takes me back to all the times I curled up in Janos’s lap, seeking safety in the very arms that hurt me.
I climb out of bed and test the length of the chain. My body jitters to curl up in the chair and regain some of the comfort I always found in his lap, but the chain only allows me two long steps, and I can’t even touch it. With a heavy sigh, I sink back onto the mattress and pull the comforter close. Inhaling deeply, I realize that Janos’s scent lingers on the sheets. I burrow my head into the pillow and drag in the scent several times, finding that it’s even better than sitting alone in the armchair.
When I lift my head back up and see the red chair, it’s like waking up—coming out of the surreal haze. Suddenly, everything becomes clear. I’m at Janos’s place, inhaling his scent, watching the red chair—my red chair—which he kept.
Tears brim in my eyes. I can’t believe he kept it; I can’t believe I’m here.
I close my eyes and pinch my arm repeatedly, but it’s always the same room—the same red chair—that greets me when I look again.
Relief washes over me, but something ominous hovers in the background. Because I don’t know that I’ll still be here tomorrow. Solid iron may tether me to the bed, but this whole situation is hanging by a thread that might snap at any moment.
If Gabor somehow finds out that I’m here, Janos might not return at all, and the next time the door opens, it might be two other suit-clad men coming to prepare me for Gabor one last time.
The idea snakes its way around my chest until I can barely breathe.
Forcing myself out of the spiraling thoughts, I grab the remote and start the first best TV show I find. Then I lie there for a few hours, flitting back and forth between mindlessly watching TV, reeling from a burst of relief, and fighting off icy dread. Then I relieve myself in the bucket, eat a few crackers, and drink some water. The small change of pace seems to reset me somewhat, and when I lie back down again, the exhaustion of the last twenty-four hours finally catches up to me and knocks me out.