or one of his ribs. I put one hand through the strap on the pole, put the other one on top, and made sure the pole was at the right angle so that it wouldn’t bow or snap the bamboo shaft. I waited. I don’t know why, it wasn’t that I was scared. I wasn’t. His breathing became more unsettled, soon he’d move and roll over. So I jumped up, bending my knees under me like a ski jumper. And landed with my full weight. His skin offered some resistance, but once the hole was made the pole thrust right through him. The bamboo stick dragged part of his T-shirt with it into his stomach, and the spike bored deep into the mattress.
His eyes were black with shock as he lay there staring up at me. I’d been quick to sit on his chest so that his arms were locked down by my knees. He opened his mouth to scream. I took aim and rammed the toilet brush into his mouth. He gurgled and wriggled, but he couldn’t move. Sure I’d fucking grown.
I sat there, feeling the bamboo pole behind the small of my back, with his body strugglingbeneath me. And I thought to myself that I was riding my father. Now my father was my bitch.
I don’t know how long I sat there before he stopped struggling and his body became limp enough for me to risk removing the toilet brush.
“Fucking moron,” he groaned, his eyes closed. “You cut someone’s throat with a knife, not…”
“That would have been too quick,” I said.
He laughed, and coughed. Bubbles of blood at the corners of his mouth.
“Now,
that’s
my boy.”
That was the last thing he said. So he got the last word after all. Because I realised there and then that he was right, the bastard. I
was
his boy. It isn’t true that I didn’t know why I waited those extra seconds before sticking the pole into him. It was to prolong the magical moment when I, and I alone, had power over life and death.
That was the virus I had in my blood. His virus.
I carried the corpse down into the cellar and wrapped it up in the old, rotten canvas tent. My mum had bought that for me as well. She had got it into her head that we, her little family, wouldgo on camping trips. Cook freshly caught trout beside a lake where the sun never set. I hope she got there with her drinking.
More than a week passed before the police came to ask if we’d seen my father after he was released. We said no. They said they’d make a note of it. Thanked us, and left. They didn’t seem particularly bothered. By that time I had already hired a van and taken the mattress and bedclothes to the dump to be incinerated. And that night I had driven deep into the far reaches of Nittedal, to a lake where the sun never sets, but where I wouldn’t be fishing for trout for a good long while.
I sat there on the shore looking out over the sparkling surface, thinking that this is what we leave behind, a few ripples in water, there for a while and then gone. As if they’d never been there. As if we had never been here.
That was the first time I fixed someone.
A few weeks later I got a letter from the university: “It is with great pleasure that we can confirm that you have been accepted to…” with a date and time for registration. I slowly tore it into pieces.
CHAPTER 12
I was woken by a kiss.
Before I realised it was a kiss, there was a moment of pure and utter panic.
Then it all came back, and the panic was replaced by something warm and soft that, in the absence of any better word, I can only call happiness.
She had rested her cheek on my chest and I looked down at her, and the way her hair was flowing over me.
“Olav?”
“Yes?”
“Can’t we just stay here for ever?”
I couldn’t think of anything I’d rather do. Ipulled her closer to me. Held her. Counting the seconds. Those were seconds we had together, seconds no one could take away from us, seconds we consumed there and then. But—like I said—I can’t count for very long. I put my lips to her hair.
“He’d find us here, Corina.”
“Let’s go far
His eyes were black with shock as he lay there staring up at me. I’d been quick to sit on his chest so that his arms were locked down by my knees. He opened his mouth to scream. I took aim and rammed the toilet brush into his mouth. He gurgled and wriggled, but he couldn’t move. Sure I’d fucking grown.
I sat there, feeling the bamboo pole behind the small of my back, with his body strugglingbeneath me. And I thought to myself that I was riding my father. Now my father was my bitch.
I don’t know how long I sat there before he stopped struggling and his body became limp enough for me to risk removing the toilet brush.
“Fucking moron,” he groaned, his eyes closed. “You cut someone’s throat with a knife, not…”
“That would have been too quick,” I said.
He laughed, and coughed. Bubbles of blood at the corners of his mouth.
“Now,
that’s
my boy.”
That was the last thing he said. So he got the last word after all. Because I realised there and then that he was right, the bastard. I
was
his boy. It isn’t true that I didn’t know why I waited those extra seconds before sticking the pole into him. It was to prolong the magical moment when I, and I alone, had power over life and death.
That was the virus I had in my blood. His virus.
I carried the corpse down into the cellar and wrapped it up in the old, rotten canvas tent. My mum had bought that for me as well. She had got it into her head that we, her little family, wouldgo on camping trips. Cook freshly caught trout beside a lake where the sun never set. I hope she got there with her drinking.
More than a week passed before the police came to ask if we’d seen my father after he was released. We said no. They said they’d make a note of it. Thanked us, and left. They didn’t seem particularly bothered. By that time I had already hired a van and taken the mattress and bedclothes to the dump to be incinerated. And that night I had driven deep into the far reaches of Nittedal, to a lake where the sun never sets, but where I wouldn’t be fishing for trout for a good long while.
I sat there on the shore looking out over the sparkling surface, thinking that this is what we leave behind, a few ripples in water, there for a while and then gone. As if they’d never been there. As if we had never been here.
That was the first time I fixed someone.
A few weeks later I got a letter from the university: “It is with great pleasure that we can confirm that you have been accepted to…” with a date and time for registration. I slowly tore it into pieces.
CHAPTER 12
I was woken by a kiss.
Before I realised it was a kiss, there was a moment of pure and utter panic.
Then it all came back, and the panic was replaced by something warm and soft that, in the absence of any better word, I can only call happiness.
She had rested her cheek on my chest and I looked down at her, and the way her hair was flowing over me.
“Olav?”
“Yes?”
“Can’t we just stay here for ever?”
I couldn’t think of anything I’d rather do. Ipulled her closer to me. Held her. Counting the seconds. Those were seconds we had together, seconds no one could take away from us, seconds we consumed there and then. But—like I said—I can’t count for very long. I put my lips to her hair.
“He’d find us here, Corina.”
“Let’s go far
Similar Books
