Chapter 53

As she finished reading, the room vanished around her. She lost herself in the text and didn’t notice that darkness was falling until she had to strain her eyes to make out the elaborate cursive. She underwent a metamorphosis and became Sigrid von Bärensten. Suffering alongside her. Becoming furious with her at times. She so fervently wanted everything to turn out okay. She reached the last chapter, when Sigrid gazed out the window to see Fredrik, Franz, or whoever the fuck he was.

All at once she knew why Oswald had given her the book. And there was something more. The final page was dotted with what looked like grey soot. She wondered if the old lady had been so muddled that she had dirtied the book herself, or whether it was in fact the final trace of Amelia von Bärensten on that page. The woman they said haunted the island.

She sat motionless for several minutes, staring straight ahead, returning to herself and her breath and the situation she was in, in an entirely new way. Like a small section of a long string of miserable events that could only end in tragedy. She thought of the little boy with a clothespin on his penis and felt a pang of empathy, but quickly returned to her conviction that Oswald had always been evil, that his soul was an inky black lump through and through. He probably thought the family history would plunge her into a state of permanent hopelessness.

Something Sigrid had written had etched itself into Sofia’s memory. She flicked back through and found the text.

Perhaps another woman will someday read this. Perhaps she will be in a similar situation. So I want to say it’s important to be shrewd. I could have gone out on the property to pick some poisonous plant and then mixed it in his liqueur. Perhaps I could have tucked a burr under his horse’s saddle. And now I’m sure you’re saying ‘Oh no, that would be dreadful!’ But life isn’t always pleasant. And when you don’t speak up, there are consequences.

She ran her finger across the words. She wished she could underline them, but she didn’t have a pen. Instead she dog-eared the page. The idea that shrewdness was vital – and here she had been anything but shrewd. For the first time since she’d been brought back to ViaTerra, she felt herself smile. She knew what Oswald got off on: her sassy attitude. In the office, all it had taken was for her to get really upset and he had pressed himself against her back, his erection the size of a baseball bat. Yet she kept battling him. And that was not being shrewd. Not at all.

Suddenly she became aware that he was standing in the doorway and watching her.

‘She was my grandmother,’ he said. ‘A real ninny. And I suppose now you’re thinking I spend all my time wringing my hands about what my pathetic dad did to me. But I don’t. He got what he deserved. That goddamn idiot crawled over to the window when I burned down the house. Then he transformed into a charred corpse before my very eyes. The only thing I regret is not chopping his dick off with a bolt cutter.’

He approached the bed. She tried to suppress a stream of unpleasant images, to look unmoved although what she wanted most of all was to put the book aside and throw up.

‘Do you understand what this book is proof of?’ he asked.

‘How much you and your forefathers hate women?’

‘Don’t take everything so personally. I don’t only hate women. All of humanity is full of brainless morons. Don’t you understand why I gave you the book?’

‘No, not really.’

‘Then you’re dumber than I thought. You can’t comfort people and save the world from destruction at the same time. Most people are so stupid and pathetic that they deserve to drown in their own blood. Lucky they have me as a lifeline. That’s what I’ve come to talk to you about.’

‘I see. Well, that sounds interesting.’ She bit her tongue at the cynical undertone.

‘It’s not interesting at all. It’s simply what’s necessary for you to understand what I’m thinking. What I really want is for you to decide what role you’re going to play in this story. Because I’m going to pick it up where that old bitch left off. It’s going to be a masterpiece of strength, power, and rehabilitation. And now you get to decide your own fate. Within reason. Won’t that be fun?’

‘I doubt it.’

‘Chill out, Sofia. People like you have to make everything so damn complicated. Do you know what ViaTerra stands for?’

‘Yes, it’s Latin, it means “the way of the earth”.’

‘True, but really it’s just a cheap Spanish wine. It sounds good, though, doesn’t it? You have to give people what they want. That makes them more receptive to what’s important. The rest is all just trivia.’

‘So you saw a bottle of wine and thought, that sounds like a good name for a cult! Seriously?’

‘Something along those lines. Seems there’s no limit to your sarcasm today. Did the old bitch’s sob story put you in a bad mood? ViaTerra is not a cult. What do I have to say to get that through to that bird-brain of yours?’

There was that deep, quiet, hoarse voice. The one that warned of an outburst hovering just below the surface. She knew the tone all too well; she felt a passing flutter in her stomach. If she pressed the wrong button, he would explode.

He was all geared up for this confrontation. But now she had to stop sassing back. Because today she was going to be shrewd.

Oswald sat down on the edge of the bed. He was wearing jeans and a white shirt, and he smelled like he had just showered. His hair was still damp. He took her hand and stroked the back of it with his thumb. She buried the urge to pull away and stared down at the knobbly blanket.

‘I’m about to tell you why you got what you deserved yesterday. Listen carefully.’

He leaned over her, gripping both of her wrists and holding them down on the bed.

I could kick him in the nuts right now, she thought. Just pull my leg back really fast and give him a hell of a kick. But she knew that was a stupid idea; it would only lead to her being raped again.

‘Haven’t you figured out what ViaTerra is all about? The theses and all.’

‘Yes, I have.’

‘Okay, but I’m going to tell you anyway. I am the founder of ViaTerra. ViaTerra is the only hope for humanity. I sat behind lock and key for a year and a half. For no reason whatsoever. Because of your big mouth. Did you really think you would get away with it? Don’t you understand why you have to be punished?’

He pulled her arms over her head until she was all stretched out on the bed before him.

‘Answer me!’

‘Sure, I get it. The theses are important. For humanity.’

‘I don’t know what’s worse, your backtalk or your stupidity. They’re not important – they are life itself.’

‘I understand.’

She forced herself to relax and lie motionless beneath him.

‘You will answer properly when I speak to you. You can go back to your boring, pointless, average-Swede life, but it won’t change a damn thing. Because you think of me constantly, don’t you?’

‘Maybe.’

‘What the hell kind of answer is that?’

He shook her until the base of the bed creaked. His eyes were wild. She had to do something, say something, because he was at the breaking point. But if she tried to come up with something quickly it would be all wrong, and how could any words check the crazy look in his eyes? All at once, she knew what she had to do.

‘I can tell you.’

His eyes lit up with a spark of interest, but there was something awfully creepy about his crooked smile.

‘Tell me what?’

He was distracted enough to loosen his grip on her arms slightly.

‘About when we first met. You wanted to know, right?’

‘You think about it all the time, huh? Fuck, you get wet when you think about it, don’t you?’

He let go of her arms and sat up in bed. All ears now.

‘You can start with the first time. At the lecture,’ he said.

So he did remember.

‘You popped up behind me. Really close. You gave me that card with your number, but at first you wouldn’t let go when I tried to take it from you.’

‘How did you feel?’

‘I guess you turned me on.’

‘Describe how you felt.’

So she told him, selecting various memories at random. Filling in extra details here and there. It was easier than she’d expected. She had to use events that had really happened because his memory was so sharp, but she could certainly exaggerate her feelings. And as she spoke, she saw the rage in his eyes ebb away. She emptied her last reserves of false prudishness.

‘It really wasn’t okay for me to feel like that,’ she managed to say.

‘You can say that again. When all is said and done, you’re nothing but a little slut. Now we both know why you flipped out and escaped. Well done, Sofia. A step forward today.’

He patted her knee and yawned loudly. Already bored with her docility.

I’ll be goddamned, she thought. A tiny dose of flattery and he’s already satisfied.

‘Tomorrow you and I will have the whole place to ourselves,’ he said as he stood up. ‘The zombie club is going on a hike, well out of earshot. Because this time I want to hear you scream. Really loudly.’

She mumbled something inaudible, but deep inside her something whispered: He’s going to kill me next time.

‘And afterwards we can sit here in your cosy little corner and have a nice glass of wine, romantic as hell,’ he said, heading for the door.

As soon as he locked it behind him, she took out the family history and read it again from cover to cover. She thought of Sigrid von Bärensten’s last words and how everything had gone so wrong. Would it be possible to set it right again? Amelia, the countess, had tried. But wasn’t it always the case that as soon as you got rid of one devil, a worse one took his place?

A fresh kind of fear enveloped her: what if he strangled her with a leather belt? She could already feel the air rushing out of her lungs, the start of a panic. But the worst part was thinking of his face above her own as he choked her, the power he would have over her then. The thought was so painful that she couldn’t stand it. She tossed and turned in the bed, biting her lip until she tasted blood, screaming and beating her fists against the dull surface of the mattress. Then she made up her mind to fight back, to resist with all her strength. What was left of it. She had to find some weapon she could use to defend herself. Why hadn’t she thought of that?

She got out of bed, turned on the light, and went to the little closet. Although she searched high and low, the closest she thing she could find to a weapon was a screwdriver from the half-empty toolbox. So complacent of him to leave the closet open. It was like it hadn’t even occurred to him that she would try to attack him. Sofia went back to the bed and put the screwdriver under the pillow. Again and again she pictured herself thrusting it into his eye, and each time she shuddered. But at last she managed to fall asleep, drifting into a dense, ravenous darkness.

She woke with a start to find his hands on her body. Disoriented and still half asleep, she tried to turn her back on him, but his hand encircled her throat. Roughly holding her in place. She bent her head back and felt the shaft of the screwdriver through the pillow. She tried to free an arm, but he was sitting on one and the other was caught under the blanket. She had no strength. The air was draining from her lungs. His other hand slipped between her legs. One finger pressed inside. She was still so sore that she screamed, but his grip on her throat tightened.

‘I just want to remind you that I’m still angry. You can tell me whatever you like, but I’m not going to forgive you yet. Tomorrow we’ll see what you’re made of.’

He removed his finger and let go of her neck.

Suddenly he stood up and was gone.

She couldn’t fall back asleep. She was restless, trembling uncontrollably and covered in a cold sweat. For the first time she wondered if it might be preferable to die.