‘Why would we do that?’
‘Vera’s parents are getting divorced,’ Sanna told him. ‘Her daddy disappeared.’
‘I see. No, we’re going to stay together. At least, I hope we are.’
Sanna started to run her finger along the pattern in the wallpaper and fifteen minutes later she was asleep. Mike left the door wide open and went down to his mother in the kitchen.
‘I hope you’re not upset,’ he said.
‘No, no, no,’ she assured him, ‘it’s only natural.’
‘What’s the time?’
He looked at his watch and answered his own question.
‘Eleven.’
‘I’ll make some coffee,’ his mother said. ‘I’m sure we won’t sleep anyway.’
Mike sat at the kitchen table, his hands clenched, eyes staring ahead. His lips moved to form words, but there was no sound. Kristina poured two cups of coffee and sat down opposite him.
‘Will you stay with her after this?’ she asked.
He gave her a stern look.
‘Mother, we don’t know what’s happened.’
She turned away.
‘No. No, we don’t. That’s right.’
She tasted the coffee, put her cup down, and let silence fill the room.
‘Who have you spoken to?’ she asked, finally.
‘Nour.’
‘From Ylva’s work?’
‘Yes. Plus Anders and Ulrika, Bjorn and Grethe, Bengtsson.’
‘And no one knows anything?’
‘No.’
Kristina fidgeted, uncomfortable with the question she was about to ask.
‘What about you know who …?’
In a weak moment, Mike had told his mother of Ylva’s affair with Bill Akerman, mainly because he had no one else to confide in. He had regretted it bitterly later and felt that his betrayal was almost worse than Ylva’s.
Mike looked his mother in the eye.
‘No,’ he said. ‘Nour phoned him. She hasn’t been there.’
Kristina changed tack.
‘Who else could you phone?’
‘I don’t want to ring anyone else. It’s bad enough as it is. And considering that I spoke to Bengtsson only two hours ago, it wouldn’t surprise me if everyone else already knows what’s happened.’
‘I was thinking more about her workplace.’
‘I’ve spoken to Nour,’ Mike said. ‘She’s her best friend.’
‘Exactly,’ his mother replied. ‘She’s Ylva’s best friend.’
‘Mum, stop. She should damn well have phoned. It’s not as if she’s scared of me.’
‘No, Lord only knows.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
Kristina looked down at the table, ran her finger along the edge.
‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘That was a stupid thing to say. I apologise.’
Mike took a deep breath, held it in.
‘Mum, I need your support more than your help. Your support, Mum.’
24
Debt
Many victims are forced to work to pay off a debt. They have to pay for their journey, accommodation, bed, condoms, and a percentage to the perpetrator for his protection. This debt is naturally a construction. The victim will never be able to buy herself free. Her only option is to become unprofitable, which in practice is impossible as there will always be preferences that need to be met, something that she is suitable for.
The man and the woman came in together. They flung open the door and didn’t bother to close it behind them. Ylva was lying on the bed, where she’d fallen asleep with her clothes on. It took a few seconds, a moment of confusion, before she realised that her dream wasn’t real, unlike the hell she now found herself in.
The man and the woman positioned themselves on either side of the bed. Ylva tried to get away from the man, and ended up by the woman. The woman was smaller than Ylva, but this was not about size. The woman hit her hard across the face with her open hand. At the same time, the man gripped Ylva’s ankles and pulled her over to him. Ylva fell on to her stomach, grabbed hold of the edge of the bed and struggled to resist him.
‘We’ll teach you to try to escape,’ the woman said, and unclenched her fingers.
The man pulled her towards him without any difficulty, got hold of her arms, hauled her up on to her knees and held her in front of him in a firm grip.
The woman climbed on to the bed behind her. She was surprisingly agile for her age and terrifyingly at ease with the violent situation. The woman kneeled in front of Ylva, who was breathing heavily, her eyes darting everywhere.
‘Look at me.’
Ylva looked up with uncertainty. Her hair was hanging down in her face and the woman gently pushed it to the side and tucked it behind her ears.
‘Stop panting.’
The woman spoke in a quiet voice, almost a whisper. Ylva gasped a few times more, the woman closed her eyes, smiled, and waited.
‘Can we talk now?’ the woman asked, so quietly that it was almost inaudible.
Ylva nodded weakly.
‘Good.’
The woman looked at her husband, who let go of Ylva’s arms.
‘It’s very simple,’ she continued in a patient tone, almost like a teacher. ‘You are here, and you know why.’
Ylva looked down.
‘Look at me.’
Ylva lifted her eyes. The woman smiled at her, raised her eyebrows.
‘You know why you are here.’
‘I …’
The woman softly put her finger on Ylva’s lips.
‘Shh, no more about the past. You’re going to pay back your debt. Let’s look to the future now.’
The woman turned, sweeping out her arm.
‘This is your world,’ she said. ‘You can use whatever is in this room. You might not think that it’s much, that you might as well have nothing. But you’re wrong. There’s a lot that you take for granted, privileges you can’t see.
The woman got down off the bed.
‘I’ll show you what we expect of you. When you hear us coming in, stand so that we can see you through the peephole. When we knock on the door, stand so that you are visible with your hands on your head, where we can
