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

Woman attacked in Blackeberg

A fifty-year-old woman unknown. The police are now was attacked and assaulted investigating a possible con-Thursday night in the Stock- nection to other violent inci-holm suburb of Blackeberg. A dents in the western suburbs passerby intervened and the during the past few weeks. The perpetrator, a young woman, fifty-year-old woman's injuries immediately fled the scene, were described as minor. The motive of the assault is

Virginia lowered the paper. So strange to read about yourself in that way. "Fifty-year-old woman," "passerby" "minor injuries." Everything that was concealed by those words.

"Possible connection?" Yes, Lacke was convinced that she had been attacked by the same child who killed Jocke. He had had to bite his tongue not to say this at the hospital, some time on Friday morning, to the female police officer and the doctor who examined her wounds.

He was planning to talk to the police, but wanted to inform Gosta first, thought Gosta would see the whole thing from a new perspective now that even Virginia had been involved.

She heard a rustling sound and looked around. It took a few seconds before she realized that it was the newspaper shaking in her own hands that was making the noise. She set the newspapers on the shelf above the white coats and went out to join Berit.

"Anything I can do?"

"Do you really think it's a good idea, hon?"

"Yes, it's better for me to be doing something."

"I see. You can portion out the shrimp, in that case. Five hundred gram bags. But shouldn't you?…"

Virginia shook her head and walked back to the storage room. She put on a white coat and hat, took a case of shrimp out of the freezer, pulled a plastic bag over her hand, and started to weigh them out. Dug around in the carton with the hand that had the plastic bag over it, portioned them out into bags, weighed them on the scales. A boring, mechanical job, and her right hand felt frozen already on her fourth bag. But she was doing something, and it gave her an opportunity to think.

That night at the hospital Lacke had said something really strange: that the child who attacked her had not been a human being. That it had had fangs and claws.

Virginia had dismissed this as a drunken hallucination.

She didn't remember much from the attack. But she could accept this: the thing that had jumped on top of her had been much too light to be an adult, almost too light to be a child, even. A very small child in that case. Five or six maybe. She recalled that she had stood up with the weight on her back. After that everything was black until she woke up in her apartment with all the guys except Gosta gathered around her.

She put a tie around a finished bag, took out the next one, dropped in a few handfuls. Four hundred and thirty grams. Seven more shrimp. Five hundred and ten.

Our treat.

She looked down at her hands, which were working independently of her brain. Hands. With long nails. Sharp teeth. What was that called? Lacke had said it out loud. A vampire. Virginia had laughed, carefully, so that the stitches in her cheek wouldn't come out. Lacke had not even smiled.

"You didn't see it."

"But Lacke… they don't really exist."

"No. But what was it then?"

"A child. Living out a strange twisted fantasy."

"Who grew out her nails? Filed her teeth down? I'd like to see the dentist who…"

"Lacke, it was dark. You were drunk, it-"

"It was, and I was. But I saw what I saw."

It burned and felt tight under the bandage on her cheek. She removed the plastic bag from her right hand, put her hand over the bandage. It was ice cold and that felt good. But she was weak; it felt as if her legs weren't going to carry her much longer.

She would finish this carton and then go home. This wasn't going to work. If she could rest over the weekend she would probably feel better on Monday. She put the plastic bag back on and started in on the work again with a spark of anger. Hated being sick.

A sharp pain in her index finger. Damn it. That's what happens if you don't concentrate. The shrimp were sharp when they were frozen and she had pricked her finger. She pulled off the plastic bag and looked at the finger. A smallish cut with a little blood welling out of it.

She automatically popped it into her mouth to suck the blood away.

A warm, healing, delicious spot radiating out from the place where her fingertip met her tongue, started to spread. She sucked harder on the finger. All good tastes concentrated into one filled her mouth. A shiver of well-being went through her body. She sucked and sucked, giving in to the pleasure until she realized what she was doing.

She pulled the finger out of her mouth, stared at it. It was shiny with saliva and the tiny amount of blood that now welled out was immediately thinned out by the wetness, like an overly diluted watercolor. She looked at the shrimp in the carton. Hundreds of pink bodies, covered with frost. And eyes. Black pinheads dispersed in the white and pink, an upside-down starry sky. Patterns, constellations started to dance in front of her eyes.

The world spun on its axis and something hit her in the back of the head. In front of her eyes there was a white surface with cobwebs in the corners. She understood that she was lying on the floor but had no strength to do anything about it.

In the distance she heard Berit's voice: "Oh my God… Virginia…"

Jonny liked to hang out with his older brother. At least when none of his sketchy buddies were around. Jimmy knew some guys from Racksta that

Jonny was pretty scared of. One evening a few years ago they had come by to talk to Jimmy, hanging around outside but without ringing the buzzer. When Jonny told them Jimmy wasn't home they asked him to deliver a message.

"Tell your brother that if he doesn't get us the dough by Monday we'll put his head in a vice… you know what that is?… OK… and turn it like this until the dough runs out of his ears. Can you tell him that? OK, great. Jonny's your name? Good-bye then, Jonny."

Jonny had delivered the message and Jimmy had simply nodded, said he knew. Then some money had disappeared from Mom's wallet and then there had been an angry scene.

Jimmy was not home as often nowadays. There was sort of no room for him anymore since their youngest little sister was born. Jonny already had two younger siblings and there weren't supposed to be any more. But then Mom had met some guy and… well… that's how it went.

At least Jonny and Jimmy had the same dad. He worked on an oil rig off the coast of Norway and not only had he started sending regular child support, he was also sending a little extra just to make up for before. Mom blessed him, and when she was drunk she had even cried over him a few times and said she would never again meet a man like that. So for the first time in as long as Jonny could remember a lack of money was not the constant topic of conversation.

Now they were sitting in the pizzeria on the main square in Blacke-berg. Jimmy had been home in the morning, argued a bit with Mom, and then he and Jonny had gone out. Jimmy heaped condiments on his pizza, folded it up, picked up the large roll with both hands, and started to eat. Jonny ate his pizza in the usual way, thinking that next time he ate pizza without Jimmy he would eat it like that.

Jimmy chewed, nodded his head at the bandage over Jonny's ear. "Looks like hell."

"Yes."

"Does it hurt?"

"It's OK."

"Mom said it's damaged for life. That you won't be able to hear anything."

"They don't know yet. Maybe it'll be alright."

"Hm. Let me get this straight. The guy just picked up some big branch and bashed it into your head."

"Mm."

"Damn. What are you going to do about it?"