Janet's POV

It was raining, softly, at first striking lightly upon the windows. But I didn't care, all my focus was on the dress I was ironing. I concentrated on the sleeve, gradually pressing a hot iron over the crease. I liked the fact that it removed the wrinkles, because let's face it, It was one of the few things that I still had control over.

Behind me the door clicked open, and my husband walked in, in silence.

I paused, my hand resting on the iron handle.

“You’re back late,” I said softly.

He didn't respond to me as usual.

I quickly turned my head facing him.

James stood at the door, he was wet to the skin. He bent his shoulders forward like a man trying to crawl into his own flesh. The water ran through his hair, down his face and the floor.

He looked like someone who was being haunted by something or someone very dangerous.

“James?” I called, setting the iron upright.

He looked at me just for a moment, and then lowered his eyes. He walked pass me without uttering a word, and sat down with his face in his hands on the edge of the couch.

I felt a tightness on my chest.

This wasn’t new. Lately, he came home like this more often...quiet, distant, empty and sometimes drunk.

But tonight... something felt different.

I watched him from the doorway curiously.

His fingers went through his hair again and again, as if he was fighting with himself.

I stayed quiet. I didn’t ask. Not yet. I already knew where he’d been.

Gambling, as usual.

His gambling addiction started off small. First it was poker with some old friends, then it moved to friendly bets. A little loss here and there. But before I knew it, he started using the rent money, then he started selling my properties: he started with the gold earrings he once bought for me and then moved to few expensive dresses I once struggled to buy.

It became very bad, he had no work, so I had to do all sort of jobs to put food on the table. But then he started stealing my money, no matter were I hid them.

I tried my best to fix his addiction, I tried everything within my power. When I threatened to leave him, he would cry and beg me, promising me that he would change, and other times, he would beat me up and lock me in the bathroom.

Over time, I learned that love isn’t always enough to fix a man drowning in addiction.

I walked over and sat on the arm of the couch, he was so lost in thought that he didn't even notice.

“How bad is it this time?” I asked curiously, my voice laced with worry

He still didn't answer me, he just sat there like a statue.

He took a long deep breath.His jaw twitched a little, his teeth clenched. He looked down the floor as though it owed him something.

“James.” My voice was firmer now. “Talk to me, how bad is it?”

He finally turned to me. His eyes were bloodshot, and something inside them was gone.

“We need to leave,” he said. “Tonight. Just pack a bag. We’ll go anywhere. Start over.”

The sound of the sentence made my stomach twist.

“Leave? Where? Why?”

“We have to go. I’ll explain later. Please.”

He grabbed my hand, and for a second, I felt that old version of him...the man I fell in love with, the man who used to smile with his whole face. But now his hands were cold, sweaty and shaking.

I pulled my hand away slowly.

“What did you do?" I asked again, "And move with what money?” my eyes widened, "What kind of trouble are you in James?" I yelled

He didn't answer me, he just kept saying, "I will find a way to make it better, I'm sorry." And with that, he left the house.

Something was seriously wrong. I had never seen my husband this frightened. For two days, he didn't come home. I was worried searching for him in all the bar and gambling den he usually frequents, but he was no where to be found.

Three days later, he came back home, without any form of explanation. He still kept insisting we move, and I still kept refusing.

By nine p.m that night, while I was doing the dishes, I heard a low knock on the door. Three slow taps on the door. It sounded so slow, as though the person knocking, was taking his time.

I quickly wiped my hands and got out of the kitchen to go open the door.

As I got to the living room, James was standing motionless at the center of the house. "It's not up to one week," he said whispering to himself, "then why are they here."

I stopped and stared at him, "Who are you talking about?" I asked curiously, with my hands on my waist.

He didn't answer me immediately, and when he finally did, he whispered “Don’t open it,”

“Why?”

He didn’t say anything. I could see his hands shaking, he reeked of fear.

"What is going on?" I asked him

He moved closer, he gently took my hands in his, "Please Janet, if you have ever loved me, listen to me, please don't open the door."

At this point, I became very scared. The knock on the door increased, like the person at the end was loosing his or her patience.

I didn't know what to do, I was confused. What has James gotten us into this time around.

The knocking became pounding.

“James Smith! Open this door now or we break it down!”

I froze.

James was shaking, his eyes fixed on the door like it might explode any second.

And then... CRACK.

The door burst open with a thunderous crash. Wood splintered. I screamed and stumbled back.

Three men stood there. The one in front was in dark grey suit. His coat was wet, but he did not appear to mind the rain, his expression was calm. Too calm. He let out a wicked smile and am walked straight to me.

“Mrs. Smith?”

I nodded, slowly.

“We’re here to collect.”

I looked over my shoulder at James.

He didn’t move.

“Collect what?” I asked.

The man smiled. Just a little.

“Your husband made a deal. Didn't he tell you?" he turned and looked at my husband.

"You didn't tell her?"

My throat went dry.

"Well, he made a bet with my boss at the gambling table, and unfortunately he lost." He moved even closer, "so we are here to collect what he owes."

I looked at the man, my whole body was trembling with fear. He looked really dangerous. “We...we don’t have anything left.” I managed to speak.

The man glanced past me at James. “Don't worry, what he placed as a bet, is still available. He offered something more valuable than money.”

James still hadn’t said a word. He looked like he’d stopped breathing.

"Something more valuable than money?" I asked curiously staring across the house, wondering what we could have that is more valuable than money.

The man turned back to me.

“Oh yes," he smiled. "He bet you.”

I stared at him, stunned. I didn't even know when tears started streaming down my cheek.

My lips parted, but no sound came out.

I looked at James.

He couldn’t even look at me.

I wanted to scream. To cry out loud. To throw something. But I couldn’t move.

My whole body just froze.

And that’s when it hit me.

He never came home with guilt.

He came home with a countdown.

I hadn’t even caught my breath from the man’s words when the door creaked open again behind him.

And another figure stepped in.

He was tall, sharp. He was wearing a dark navy suit that was probably more expensive than our monthly rent. It was obvious he was the boss. His shoes were clean even with rain outside.

Slowly from his feet, my eyes moved to his face and then our eyes met.

I froze, I couldn't believe who I was seeing standing in front of me.

My mouth fell open.

“You?” I whispered. My voice cracked, panic rising in my chest. I took a step back like the sight of him might burn me.

“Chris?”

He smiled, slow and smug. “Yes. Me

The air vanished from my lungs.

Janet's POV

“H-How did you find me?”

His eyes never left mine. Cold. Triumphant.

“I told you,” he said smoothly, stepping closer, “I’d find you, no matter where you ran.” He gestured around the room with a sneer. “And look at this. Look who you left me for. A man who could gamble you away like spare change. What a pity.”

His gaze ran over me like I was a property, not a person.

“You look tired, wornout, cheap. You look old, a suffering kind of old. You were much more radiant than this.”

I was numb. The walls felt like they were closing in. My hands were shaking.

Chris.

The man my father sold and traded me off to for money for his business.

On the night of our suppose wedding, I fled into the rain, barefoot and terrified, with nothing but James the love of my life, beside me. I thought I was choosing love. I thought I was escaping, I never knew...

But now, Chris was standing in my living room.

Victorious.

“You thought you could run?” he said, his tone suddenly dark, possessive. “You’re mine, Janet. You always were. No one runs from me. Especially not a woman I paid for.”

My knees almost gave out.

I turned slowly to James, my heart was beating so hard I could hear it in my ears. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

I could feel the tears gather in my eyes and fall unchecked on my cheeks.

“You…” I choked, turning to James. “You placed me, me your wife as a bet. A fucking bet.” I laughed bitterly.

He took a step forward, guilt in his eyes, his lips trembling.

“Janet, please...”

I shook my head, backing away from both of them.

“What did I ever do to you, James?” My voice cracked. “I gave up everything. I left everything , I slept hungry beside you. I worked two jobs while you gambled our rent away. And now this?” My chest heaved. “After all that, you gave me away like I was nothing?”

James dropped to his knees, his face crumpled in desperation.

“Please… just one year. That’s all he asked. One year, and then we’ll be free. We’ll rebuild. You’ll come back to me. Please, Janet… do this for us.”

“Do this for us? My voice dropped to a whisper. “You have finished me, James.”

I moved another step back, my arms clasped to my sides.

Chris scoffed. I am too busy to waste my time with this drama, I have other important appointments. Bundle her.”

"Mr Chris," James called moving closer to him, "but it's not up to one week, we agreed one week."

Chris let out a mockery laughter, looking at James "One week, three days, what is the difference," and with that, he walked away.

Before I could do anything, one of his men was quick, he seized me by the arm and pulled me forward, I screamed. Kicked. Scratched. My fists pounded against the man’s back as he threw me over his shoulder like I was nothing more than a sack.

“Let me go! Let me go!” I yelled, and struggled furiously.

And yet it was no good.

And, with my blurred, tear-filled eyes I watched James standing by the door.

Frozen. Just...Watching.

He didn’t run. He didn’t speak. He didn’t move.

He just watched them take me.

And that was the moment I knew I had no one. Not anymore.

The car was quiet. Too quiet.

I sat between two men. One had a long scar on his face. The other one didn’t blink at all. Rain covered the windows. I could hardly see the road. Outside seemed so distant, as though I were not here.

I didn’t cry.

I couldn’t.

I just sat still. My hands rested on my lap. My heart beat fast. My thoughts were loud.

I kept thinking about James.

The man I gave my life to. The man I trusted.

The man who gave me away.

He didn’t warn me. He didn’t tell me anything. He just let them take me.

Like I was nothing. He couldn't even fight for me. Who bets their own wife in a game.

But I wasn't so surprised, because this wasn’t the first time he hurt me like this.

I remembered one time, when he needed money badly. He asked me to spend the night with a rich man he used to work for back then. I was shocked. I refused and for days, he didn't speak to me.

Then one night, he came back drunk. And poured all his frustration on me. He called me badluck. He said I brought badluck to his life. That night he hit me and left bruises on my body. He locked me up in the room and left me there.

After a few days, he came back crying. He begged me to forgive him. He said he didn’t mean it, he didn't know what got over him, and like a fool, I forgave him. Because I loved him.

I always forgave him.

Even when it hurt, even when I should have left. But where could I have even gone to. I had nobody and I was sure nobody wanted me.

And now… he has traded me. Just like the way my father did. Traded me, like I was a bag of rice at the market. And the funny part is to the same man.

I took a deep breath. "Janet, what a pathetic and pitiful life you have." I whispered to myself, biting my lower lip, to stop the tears from falling.

I looked down at my hands.

How did I end up here?

After what seemed like forever, the car stopped.

One of the men opened the door for me, but I didn’t move right away. I looked outside, observing the environment.

The house was huge. White walls. Big glass windows. Lights so bright, it looked like day, even though it was night. The rain still fell. I stepped out slowly. My shoes sank into the soft ground.

Chris who had already left us, was waiting on the porch, drinking scotch.

He looked at me and smiled wickedly.

“Welcome to your home for the next 365 days or even more,” he said, staring deeply at me

That word...home...burned my chest.

I didn't even answer him, I walked past him, into the house.

Everything inside was shiny. Clean. Big. The floor was cold marble. The chairs were soft velvet. The smell was fresh, like oranges.

But I didn’t feel safe. I didn’t feel welcome. I felt a prisoner.

I stood there in the middle of the room, all wet from the rain. I didn't say a word. I watched him walk inside. He moved closer to me, with his eyes roaming around me, as he walked around me in circles.

I guess you are tired, he said.

I did not reply.

He touched a strand of my wet hair and brushed it out of my face.

I pulled my head away immediately, he smiled, like he liked that I still had fight in me.

"Greta," he screamed.

An elderly woman walked down the stairs, "Yes sir," she responded with a faint smile.

"Show her to her room," he ordered.

“Why am I here?” I asked, ignoring the elderly woman standing in front of me.

He didn’t answer right away. He walked to the fireplace. He poured more scotch.

Then he said, “Because you ran. And I don’t like when people leave me.”

I looked at him.

“You think you own me?”

He turned around. His face changed. He looked more serious now, like he was angry.

“Own you!" he laughed. "Darling, I bought you two times. Once from your father. Now from your husband. If that isn't ownership, I wonder what it is?”

I laughed, but it was full of pain.

“You think you are powerful. You can just buy anybody you want because you have the money” I yelled. “Well that’s not power, but weakness. Maybe you know, that nobody can ever love a sadiest like you, so you buy them."

He didn’t get angry. He just stared at me. And smiled. "You and I both know, that I can get any woman I want, but you Janet you aren't a woman, you are a thing. My property."

The arrogance, the audacity. I wish I could just make him disappear.

I moved closer to him, "I Janet, I'm no one's property."

He used his hands to caress my hair gently, "Keep telling yourself that, but don't worry, you’ll get used to being here.”

I folded my arms. “And if I don’t?”

He walked closer, too close. His voice was low.

“Then it will be a very long painful year.” And with that, he walked away.

That night, I sat alone in the room he gave me.

It was beautiful. The bed was big, I have never slept in a bed like this in my 25 years on earth. The sheets were soft, and smelled nice. The bed itself was also very soft. There were clean clothes in the closet. A tub full of warm water.

I was sitting on the edge of the bed, as I gazed at my reflection through the mirror.I did not recognize the lady I was seeing in the mirror. I looked weak. Tired. Sad, and old.

But no matter how tired I was, I needed to survive. I needed to find something to keep me going.

I made myself a promise.

I would not break, I would not let this situation put me down. I would not let this monster ruin my life.

I would show him that I am not a thing, I am not his property, and I will never be.