Sofia wets herself with fear, and a hot pool of urine spreads out beneath her.
When he tries to push into her, she twists to the side quickly and shoves him with her hip.
A drop of sweat falls from his nose onto her forehead.
He grabs her throat with one hand, looks at her, tightens his grip and lies on top of her again. His weight makes her sink into the mattress, which pulls her thighs further apart. Her ankles sting as the bedposts creak.
She struggles to breathe, tossing her head until she manages to get some air into her lungs.
He tightens his grip on her throat, and her vision starts to flicker. The room fades away as she feels him trying to force his way inside her. Sofia struggles to twist aside, but its impossible, this is going to happen anyway. She cant stay inside her body, she has to think about something else. Flashes of memory dart past, cool evenings on the big football field, ragged breathing, clouds in front of her mouth, the silence down by the lake, the old school in Bollstanäs.
The coach points at the ball, blows the whistle, and then silence.
The grip on her throat disappears, Sofia spits out her underwear and gasps for air as she blinks.
Someones ringing the doorbell downstairs.
He grabs her chin and forces her mouth open, then shoves the underwear back in, and she starts to retch again, breathing through her nose, unable to swallow.
The doorbell rings again.
The man spits on her and gets off the bed, pulls his trousers up and grabs his shirt before leaving the room.
As soon as hes gone Sofia pulls her right hand as hard as she can, without thinking of the consequences.
She feels excruciating pain, but her hand comes out of the strap.
Only the underwear in her mouth stops her from screaming out loud.
Her head is thudding. Shes on the brink of passing out, and her whole body is shaking with pain. Her thumb could be broken, and the ligament feels torn. Her skin looks like an old glove and blood is coursing down her arm. She pulls the underwear from her mouth.
She whimpers out loud as she tries to loosen the strap around her left wrist. Her fingers keep slipping, but eventually she manages to pick the buckle open. She quickly tugs the strap through the catch, then sits up and removes the restraints from her ankles.
She gets up on unsteady legs, clutching her wounded hand to her stomach, and starts to walk across the thick carpet. Her head is pounding with shock and pain. Her feet feel numb and her dress is wet and cold over her backside.
Carefully she makes her way out of the bedroom and creeps along the hallway where the man has just disappeared.
Sofia stops before she reaches the staircase. She can hear another voice downstairs, and decides to shout for help. She cant hear what the other man is saying, and tentatively moves closer. There are clothes from the dry-cleaners hanging over the banister. Through the thin plastic she can see bundles of identical white shirts.
She clears her throat carefully, ready to shout for help, when she realises that the other man isnt inside the house. His voice is coming from the intercom. A messenger, asking to be let through the gate. Wille says that hell have to come back, then puts the phone down and walks back towards the staircase again.
She staggers but manages to keep her balance. She has pins and needles in her feet as the blood flow returns.
Sofia moves backwards. The floor creaks beneath her and she looks around and sees a larger room further down the hall, with painted portraits on the walls. She thinks about running in and opening a window to call for help, but realises that she doesnt have time.
5
Sofia makes her way quickly along the wall and past the stairs, until she reaches a narrow cupboard door. She grabs the handle and pulls.
Locked.
Through the prisms of the chandelier, she watches the man walk up the stairs.
Hell reach her soon.
She walks back towards the stairs and crouches down on the floor, hidden by the dry-cleaned shirts. If he looks directly at her hell see her, but if he just walks past shell have a few seconds headstart.
Her hand hurts so much that shes shaking, and her neck and throat are swollen.
The steps are old and worn, and the staircase creaks. She sees him between the banisters and shrinks back cautiously.
Wille reaches the top and walks down the hallway.
He walks towards the bedroom without noticing the blood shes left on the carpet.
Carefully she gets to her feet, watching his back and suntanned neck as he walks into the bedroom.
She walks silently around the railing and starts to run down the stairs.
She realises that hes turned around, and is already coming after her.
The thudding footsteps speed up.
She clutches the throbbing, bleeding fingers of her injured hand with her good one.
All she knows is that she has to get out of the house. She rushes through the large hallway, hearing the harsh creak of the stairs as the man comes after her.
I dont have time for this! he yells.
Sofia runs across a narrow rug towards the door. She trips over a pair of shoes but keeps her balance.