Thomas Enger - Scarred

And this time she waits until he says something. It’s not much of an answer, but there is a grunt, a signal that he is interested in hearing what she has to say.

‘You and I,’ she says and waits a little longer again. ‘We’ve both done something we shouldn’t have. We’ve both been backed into a corner and we’re desperate to find a way out.’

Trine holds another pause; her forehead gets hot.

‘I think I know a little about how you feel,’ she says and leans forward on her elbows, resting them on her knees. Some hair falls in front of her eyes, but she doesn’t brush it away. She waits a little longer before she says: ‘I’ve never let anyone dictate to me. I’ve fought injustice wherever I’ve come across it. But I’ve learned something in the last few days, Remi. Or, at least, I think I have. And I understand that sometimes it’s pointless to fight the inevitable. You can stand in the sea with water up to your knees and tell yourself you’ll stay where you are, even if a giant wave comes towards you. But no matter how strong you are, that wave will knock you over.’

Trine pauses.

‘Do you understand what I mean, Remi? Do you hear what I’m saying?’

Pause. The silence gnaws at her insides. Trine holds her breath, clutches her fingers.

‘I hear you.’

‘I’ve got a suggestion,’ Trine says, warming to her subject. ‘I’ve never liked talking on the phone. I prefer being able to look people in the eye. So what I’m going to do now,’ she says and looks up for a brief moment at the protests she can read in the faces of the police officers in the mobile incident truck, ‘is to leave this truck and go and stand outside the house. I want you to walk to a window, so that—’

‘Why? So you can take me out?’

‘No,’ Trine says emphatically. ‘No one here will shoot you. I give you my word.’

She gets up and brushes off a police officer who tries to stop her.

‘If you look up now,’ she says, taking a step down on to the tarmac outside the truck, ‘then you’ll see me. I’d really like to be able to see you, too, Remi.’

There is silence.

Trine scans every window for signs of movement. She sees nothing. Hears nothing.

Then a curtain twitches.

‘Like that, yes,’ she says and feels a sense of agitation. She notices that it has started to rain, a soft, cool drizzle that lowers the temperature in her head and makes it easier to think. ‘And I’d like to see the whole of you. Do you think you can do that for me?’

Remi makes no reply. But soon she sees the face of a man with dark eyes. The raindrops settle like tiny pearls on her glasses, but she can still see him clearly.

‘Hi,’ she says and smiles. ‘Good to see you.’

No response.

‘What I wanted to tell you,’ she continues and locks eyes with Remi, ‘is that I’ve realised that I have to let it happen. There’s nothing I can do to make this… giant wave… disappear.’

Trine loses the thread for a moment. She shakes her head and a thought occurs to her. The fighter in her miraculously returns. There is no way she will accept that the winner takes all. There is no way she will be the only one who takes a beating. She will dish one out as well.

She feels all eager and excited, but then her mind returns to the situation in hand.

‘Remi, I know it’s tempting to just wait for the wave to sweep you away. God knows the thought has crossed my mind, too, more than once. I’ve raged at the people who made my life difficult and caused me pain, but at some point you have to let go of the past and start looking forwards.’

Trine tries to see through her misted-up glasses. It is becoming increasingly difficult.

‘And I think starting with an apology is a good thing. Apologies matter, Remi. It’s a—’

‘What did you say?’

‘Eh?’

‘I said what did you say?’

Remi’s voice has grown harsher.

‘I said it’s important to say you’re sorry. It’s the cornerstone of every human relationship.’

‘Don’t talk to me about apologies.’

‘Why n—’

‘You know nothing about apologies.’

Trine is temporarily wrong-footed.

‘No, perhaps I don’t,’ she says and tries to find Remi’s eyes through the beads of moisture on her glasses. ‘But I know it’s a thin line between love and hate. And I’m absolutely sure that you loved Emilie once, Remi, and that perhaps you still do. It’s easy to love and to hate. But forgiving someone might well be the hardest thing of all. And I’m not saying that you have to forgive the people who ruined your life because no one can demand to be forgiven. But nor do I think you can force someone to apologise. If you say you’re sorry, then you have to mean it. And you yourself have to recognise that you did something wrong and you must truly want to make amends. Wouldn’t you agree with me, Remi?’

There is silence again. Trine listens out for the sound of his breathing, but all she can hear is white noise. Then he moves away from the window.

‘Remi?’

No reply.

‘Remi, are you there?’

Emilie looks at Remi, she listens to the short grunts he makes, but she can’t hear what is being said at the other end. She only sees him nodding from time to time, almost imperceptibly, and running his hands over his head. The words seem to have some effect on him, but it is only a few minutes ago since he threatened to kill them all. Though Remi seems to have calmed down a little, she has no idea if the rage will flare up in him again. And that could mean the end for all of them.

Emilie’s hands are bleeding. She has been rubbing them against the thick rope the whole time, but the knots haven’t loosened even a millimetre.

‘I’m listening,’ he says.

Again she wonders what they could be talking about. And who he is talking to.

The knocking in the bedroom has stopped. Sebastian must have fallen asleep. Thank God , she thinks, and hopes that it is so. Again she tries to wriggle her hands out of the rope, but it cuts into her flesh, sending shockwaves of pain through her. It’s no use. She is completely stuck.

‘How are you?’ whispers Mattis a short distance away from her.

Emilie thinks about everything that has happened in the last few days, Mattis’s new job, her negative thoughts about him that have started to surface even though she doesn’t quite know why. Looking at him now and seeing how outmanoeuvred he is, how bloodied and how battered, she realises there is very little left of the man who came up to her at the check-in counter at Gardermoen Airport and invited her to go reindeer hunting with him. And she understands that if anyone is going to stop Remi in case the police don’t, then it has to be her.

She tugs at the rope, feels the pain in her wrists again and grits her teeth. Primal strength , she tells herself. Only women know what that is. Pain is nothing. Not once you’ve given birth. But still it makes no difference. The knots refuse to budge.

From the kitchen she can hear Remi’s angry voice. He says something about apologies. Then he falls silent again.

A noise makes her glance sideways. The door handle to Sebastian’s bedroom is being pushed down.

No , she mouths silently. Don’t do it, Sebastian. Stay where you are!

But he doesn’t. The next moment the door opens and his little face peeks out. Emilie closes her eyes, desperately wishing she could shoo him away with her hands, but they are still trapped. She whispers to him to go back, but Sebastian doesn’t react, he doesn’t do as he is told, why can’t he ever do as he is told? Instead, he comes running towards her as he always does.

‘Mummy,’ he shouts. ‘I’m hungry.’