John Lindqvist - Let The Right One In aka Let Me In

Good-bye.

The policeman let out a snorting sound, got up, and left.

Virginia's injuries had not been life-threatening. On Friday afternoon she was discharged from the hospital with fourteen stitches and a large bandage on her neck, a smaller one on her cheek. She had refused Lacke's offer to stay with her, live with her, until she felt better.

She had gone to bed Friday evening convinced that she would get up and go to work Saturday morning. Couldn't afford to stay home.

It had been hard to fall asleep. Memories of the attack kept returning, and she couldn't get settled. Thought she saw black lumps emerge out of the shadows of her room and fall down on her as she lay in bed with her eyes wide open. Her wound itched under the bandage on her throat. Around two o'clock in the morning she got hungry, went out into the kitchen, and opened the refrigerator.

Her stomach had felt empty, but as she stood there and looked at all the food, there was nothing she felt she wanted. From habit, she had still taken out the bread, butter, cheese, and milk and set them on the kitchen table.

She made herself a cheese sandwich and poured milk into a glass. Then she sat at the table and looked at the white liquid in the glass, the brown piece of bread with its yellow slice of cheese. It looked revolting. She didn't want it. She threw it out, pouring the milk down the drain. There was a half-full bottle of white wine in the fridge. She poured out a glass, brought it to her lips. But when she smelled the wine she lost interest.

With a feeling of failure she poured herself a glass of water from the tap. She hesitated as she brought it to her mouth. Surely you could always drink water?… Yes. She could drink the water. But it tasted… stale. As if everything good in the water had been removed and only left the flat dregs.

She went back to bed, shifting restlessly for a few more hours then finally falling asleep.

When she woke up it was half past ten. She threw herself out of bed, pulled on some clothes in the dimly lit bedroom. Good heavens. She should have been at the store at eight. Why hadn't they called?

Oh, but wait. She had heard the phone ring. It had rung in her last dream before she woke up, then stopped. If they hadn't called she would still be sleeping. She buttoned her blouse and walked over to the window, pulled up the blinds.

The light struck her face like a physical blow. She staggered backward, away from the window, and dropped the cords to the blinds. They slipped down again with a clattering sound, stopping at a crooked angle. She sat down on the bed. A single beam of sunlight came in through the window, shining on her naked foot.

A thousand pinpricks.

As if her skin were being twisted in two directions at once.

What is this?

She moved her foot away, pulled on her socks. Moved her foot back into the sunlight. Better. Only a hundred pinpricks. She stood up to go to work then sat down again.

Some kind of… shock.

The sensation when she pulled up the blinds had been ghastly. As if the light were heavy matter flung at her body, pushing her away. It had been the worst in the eyes. Two strong thumbs pressing on them, threatening to gouge them out of her head. They were still stinging.

She rubbed her eyes with the palms of her hands, took her sunglasses out of the bathroom cabinet and put them on.

Hunger raged in her body but all she had to do was think of the contents of the refrigerator and pantry to make all thoughts of eating breakfast disappear. And anyway she had no time. She was almost three hours late.

She went out, locked the door, and walked down the stairs as fast as she could. Her body was weak. Maybe it was a mistake to go to work today. Well, the store would only be open four more hours and it was now the Saturday customers started to come in.

She was so preoccupied with these thoughts that she did not hesitate before opening the front door of the building.

The light was there again.

Her eyes hurt despite the sunglasses, boiling water was poured over her hands and face. She gave a little scream. Pulled her hands into her coat, bent her face to the ground and ran. She could not protect her neck and scalp and they stung like they were on fire. Luckily it was not far to the store.

When she was safely inside, the stinging and pain quickly lifted. Most of the store windows were covered in advertising and protective plastic film so that the sunlight wouldn't affect the goods. She took off her sunglasses. It hurt a little, but that could be because a little bit of sunlight came in the spaces between the advertising posters. She put her sunglasses in her pocket and walked out to the office.

Lennart, the store manager and her boss, was there filling out forms, but he looked up when she came in. She had expected some kind of reprimand but he simply said: "Hi, how's it going."

"Oh… fine."

"Shouldn't you be at home getting some rest?"

"No, I thought…"

"You didn't need to, you know. Lotten will fill in for you today. I tried to call you earlier, but when you didn't pick up…"

"Isn't there anything for me to do, then?"

"Check with Berit in the meat department. And Virginia…"

"Yes."

"I'm sorry about what happened. I don't know exactly how to say it, but… I feel badly about it. And I completely understand if you need to take it easy for a while."

Virginia couldn't get her head around it. Lennart was not the kind of person who looked kindly on sick leave, or for that matter, any kind of problem that other people might have. And to hear him extend his personal sympathies was something completely new. She must look pretty terrible with her swollen cheek and her bandages.

Virginia said: "Thanks. I'll think it over," and went to the meat department.

She looped over past the checkout registers in order to say hi to Lot-ten. Five people were lined up at her register and Virginia thought she should open another one after all. But the question was if Lennart even wanted her to sit at a checkout register looking as she did.

When she walked into the light from the horrible window behind the checkout registers it got like that again. Her face tightened, her eyes ached. It wasn't as bad as the direct sunlight out on the street, but it was bad enough. She would not be able to sit there.

Lotten caught sight of her, waved in between two customers.

"Hi, I read… How are you doing?"

Virginia held up her hand, wiggled it from side to side: so so.

Read?

She nabbed the Svenska Dagbladet and Dagens Nyheter, took them with her over to the meat department, quickly eyed the first page news. Nothing there. That would have been a reach.

The meat department was at the very back of the store, beside the milk products, strategically planned so that you had to walk through the whole store in order to get there. Virginia stopped next to the shelves with canned food. She was trembling with hunger. She looked carefully at all the cans.

Crushed tomatoes, mushrooms, mussels, tuna, ravioli, Bullen's beer sausage, pea soup… no. She felt nothing but revulsion.

Berit saw her from the meat counter, waved. As soon as Virginia had come around the back of the counter Berit hugged her, and carefully touched the bandage on her cheek.

"Ugh. Poor you."

"Oh, it's…"

Fine?

She retreated to the little storage room behind the meat counter. If she let Berit get started she would be subject to a long harangue about people's suffering in general and the evils of today's society in particular.

Virginia sat down on a chair between the scales and the door to the freezer room. It was an area of only a few square meters but it was the most comfortable place in the store. No sunlight. She flipped through the papers and found a small article in the Dagens Nyheter domestic news section. She read: