knowledge of history, art, and religion would put any of her professors at NYU to shame. Many evenings they’d sit together on the floor of her apartment sharing a joint, and she’d listen in fascination while he expounded some complex point of esoteric philosophy. Then, just before they slept, he’d hold her close and they’d make warm romantic love.
One night he told her that Botis was the name of a powerful demon from medieval lore… To the ancient writers, the demon Botis was a prince in hell with many legions of demons under him. At the time that seemed very exotic. Syl reached out her hand and lovingly tousled his raven-black hair.
As the months passed, Botis became her life. Her old friends gradually stopped coming around, and she spent more and more of her time stoned. She skipped class and her grades plummeted, but she no longer cared. Knowing she was failing anyhow, she dropped out of school.
The day she quit NYU, Botis introduced her to heroin. And after that, the heroin was all that mattered.
A year later, when she’d lost her job and was evicted from her apartment, her mom pleaded with her to come back home and get her life together, but instead she went with Botis.
That night he took her to the house. She was frightened at first. She had never been to a place like the house. But Botis assured her that the best drugs were always plentiful there.
He led her up darkened stairs to a back room, and they did drugs together… but then, without warning, he began to beat her. It was a side of Botis she had never seen. He screamed obscenities, shoved her into a corner, and pounded her body with his fists. Terrified and confused she sank to the floor and tried to shield her face, but he kicked her repeatedly, then—with seemingly superhuman strength—he picked her up and threw her across the room. Finally, he raped her brutally and left her in agony, barely conscious.
When she finally awoke the next morning, she was alone on the mattress and the door to the room was locked. Her purse and cell phone were gone. Sylvia was trapped.
That afternoon Botis came again. Again he beat her and raped her and left her locked in the dingy room. For a full week the pattern repeated, with never an explanation. Occasionally he brought her food, and always heroin, then left her alone—imprisoned in darkness.
In anguished tears, she pleaded with him to tell her what she’d done… why he was doing this to her… but he just smiled and beat her more.
Then others in the house began to come. They came at any hour, individually and in groups. Some raped her savagely and left her bleeding. Others came gently in the night, whispering words of love while they were on her. Some felt sorry for her and promised to take her away, but never did. A few were so stoned they barely knew she was there. Gradually, as the agonizing months dragged by, she’d grown numb to them all.
The only one she dreaded anymore was Botis. She knew now what he was.
One night, two weeks into her imprisonment, Syl had been hunched over on her mattress sobbing. Hearing a noise outside the room, she looked up and saw Botis appear—walking right through the closed door—leering at her with his demonic grin. At first she thought she was hallucinating. But then she knew. Botis truly was a demon.
The day after that encounter someone left her door unlocked and Sylvia made her first escape attempt. She almost succeeded, but they caught her a few steps from the front door, and beat her severely. In the following weeks she tried several more times with the same result.
After a while, even escaping didn’t matter. The last few weeks they hadn’t even bothered locking her door. Syl was just the freak in back room. And she was numb… she didn’t care about anything, as long as she got her next fix.
Botis still came every day. He rarely spoke, and didn’t even seem
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