‘The bathroom,’ Ylva ordered, and backed away to give him room to pass.
He nodded and went in.
‘Close the door behind you.’
He obeyed.
‘And lock it,’ Ylva shouted.
He locked it. Ylva looked around for something to jam the door, but there wasn’t anything except the broken chair.
She bent down and picked up the key ring, without letting go of the chair leg. With shaking hands, she fumbled for the right key. There were two to choose from. Finally she managed to get the first one in, but couldn’t turn it. She pulled out the key, dropped the key ring, bent down and picked it up again.
The second key didn’t fit in the lock at all. She tried the first one again. Had just pushed it back into the lock when the bathroom door opened.
‘Do you need some help?’
Ylva spun round, holding the chair leg in front of her with outstretched arms.
The man came out of the bathroom, put his hand into his pocket and pulled out a single key.
‘Guess you’ve got the wrong ones,’ he said.
‘Give it to me!’
The man stepped back, smiled.
‘You’ll have to get it from me.’
Ylva went for him. She lifted her arms above her head and stormed towards him. He jumped nimbly up on to the bed.
‘This is fun,’ he said. ‘Just like when we were children.’
‘Let me out, you bastard.’
‘Of course. But first you have to get the key.’
He held it out, teasing her. Ylva got up on to the bed, the man stayed where he was.
‘Give it to me.’
‘Here, take it.’
‘Put it down,’ Ylva ordered. ‘Put the key down now.’
‘Take it.’
‘I’ll hit you.’
‘Come on then, take the key.’
Ylva swung the chair leg and hit him and gashed open his hand. He looked at the thin line that was now filling with blood.
‘That hurt,’ he said, and put the wound to his mouth and sucked.
‘I’ll hit you again,’ Ylva screamed. ‘I will. Give me the key. Now!’
The man stopped sucking. The amused look on his face had been replaced by anger.
‘Okay, that’s enough.’
He reached out to try to get the chair leg from Ylva. She hit him again, he grabbed her arm and blocked the movement. With his other hand, he wrestled the chair leg out of Ylva’s grasp and threw it to one side, then forced her face down on to the bed.
‘I’m going to have to teach you some fucking manners.’
He straddled her thighs and pulled down her jeans without undoing the buttons and started to spank her on the bottom. He hit her until she was red before pulling down her trousers completely and thrusting his hand into her vagina.
She heard him unbutton his own jeans.
Mike built up the Lego pieces along the edges of the base plate. Sanna was critical of his work.
‘Aren’t you going to have windows?’
‘I can’t find any.’
‘You could just leave an opening. You can’t get bored if there’s a window.’
Mike looked at his little grown-up daughter. She noticed it.
‘That’s what the teacher says,’ she explained. ‘It’s a saying or something.’
How like that hideous old witch, Mike thought to himself. She’s not ashamed to ask the children what their parents do or what kind of car they’ve got. Mike had his own cynical version of the saying his daughter had just shared with him:
It was not an attitude to life that he wanted to hand down to Sanna.
‘You’re right,’ he said, and removed some bricks. ‘If you’ve got a window, you won’t ever be bored.’
‘And doors,’ Sanna said. ‘Otherwise you can’t get in.’
‘Or out,’ Mike said.
‘But you have to go in first.’
‘Right again.’
Mike looked at the clock. Quarter to six.
‘Is Mummy not coming home soon? I’m hungry.’
‘She’ll be here anytime now.’
Sanna gave a long sigh.
‘We can get a pizza,’ Mike suggested, and immediately felt a pang of remorse.
A burger and pizza on the same day, both as good as cake in terms of nourishment. Mike didn’t care, things being what they were. It wasn’t a day like any other.
He got up. His body was stiff. He didn’t know if it was because he was tense or because he’d spent an hour and a half on the floor playing with Lego.
He went out into the kitchen. The pizza menu was stuck to the fridge with a magnet, a last resort on bad days when imagination and motivation were lacking.
‘Cheese and ham?’
‘The usual.’
Mike phoned and ordered.
‘If we go straight away, we can buy some Saturday treats.’
Sanna scrambled to her feet.
‘Can we get a film as well?’
‘If we’re quick. It would be a shame if the pizza got cold.’
Mike said that to be on the safe side. Sanna chose her films as if world peace depended on it. Even then, nine times out of ten, it was one she’d already seen. The comfort of familiarity.
21
Deprecation
Victims are constantly given negative feedback and brainwashed into believing that they lack human worth. The woman is scorned and denigrated, told that she is disgusting, a dirty whore, and that her body is only good for one thing. By means of verbal and physical abuse, the victim is robbed of the right to her own thoughts and body.
‘Twice in less than twenty-four hours. We’re practically a couple.’
Ylva wept silently, lying on her side, cheek to the covers, staring at the wall.
‘And you were wet.’
