26. TWENTY SIX
TWENTY SIX
SNOWMAN
January, 2017
"If you continue to carry the brick from your past,
you will end up building the same house."
— Unknown.
Bree was at home. Over the past two weeks, she had grown closer to Julia, Erik's wife. For Bree, this had started to feel normal, but for me, it was anything but. None of this was normal. Watching her with their daughter, the way she smiled at that child tied knots in my stomach. It was the kind of smile that hinted at a wish she hadn't said but knew she wanted, a wish for something I couldn't give her. Something I didn't want to share.
I hated myself for that. For not being enough. For not being able to offer her the life she deserved, a life I knew she needed, a life I couldn't touch.
Now, I sat in the office, the hum of people moving through the halls, their faces blurred, expressionless, as they passed by. Today was my last day here. Isak was excited about it, of course. In just a week, he had clawed his way into the chief's chair after Jan Johansson's body turned up cold. The department called it an accident. They didn't know the truth.
They couldn't.
The moment Isak's promotion became official, I handed in my badge. No ceremony. No fanfare. Just paperwork now. I was ready to let it go.
Life has a way of stealing dreams out from under you, and there's nothing you can do about it. You just stand there, helpless, watching as the wind scatters the pieces that were never yours to reach.
Frida left yesterday. I could see in her eyes how the unanswered questions still haunted her, how close she came to uncovering the truth about the Snowman. If it hadn't been for Mel backing up my story about the badge, she would have caught me. I could feel it all tightening around me, every thread pulling back into the same relentless puzzle. But I was done. I had decided to move on.
I was 34. No plans, no future. All I knew was that I needed Bree.
THOR, 8 YEARS OLD
Today, I found out I was going to have a sister. Mom was pregnant. Erik and I were upstairs in the kitchen, playing with little boats in the sink, letting the water carry them in the circles. But downstairs, their voices rose crashing against our little game.
We tried not to listen, but the words came through the walls, impossible to ignore.
"You are not going to have that child," Father said. "Get rid of it."
"But..." Mom's voice trembled. "It's a girl."
"That's exactly why!" he roared. "I can't have girls around my sons. They need strength, not her crying and whining."
"What if I don't?" she asked, and at that moment, her voice cracked. She wanted this baby. Maybe more than she wanted us.
"Then I will throw her to the pigs," he snarled. "You end it now, or I will end it later."
Erik and I didn't look at each other. We didn't speak. But even as we pretended to play, tears slid down our cheeks, silent as the little waves lapping in the sink. We wanted her, this sister we never met, never even seen. We wanted to play with her and share our toys. We wanted Mom to be happy for once, truly happy. She never was.
We heard the door slam a few minutes later. Dad left without a goodbye.
Mom climbed the stairs soon after, her steps dragging. She didn't say anything when she walked in. She just sat on the sofa, clutching a pink baby blanket in her hands, her body trembling as silent sobs shook her.
Erik and I rushed to her side, pressing ourselves against her. She wrapped her arms around us tightly, as if we might slip away too, and her cries became louder.
Between her sobs, she choked out the words that shattered everything. "We won't have a baby girl, boys."
Then, she slid down onto her knees in front of us, taking our hands as tears ran down her face.
She whispered, "The world breaks little girls so little boys can live."
We didn't understand.But we leaned into her, wrapping our arms around her as best we could.
PRESENT DAY
I got home, groceries in my hands, balancing the bags awkwardly as I nudged the door open. Tonight, I wanted to cook for her. Something special. But as I stepped inside, something felt off. The house was quiet, too quiet.
"Bree?" I called out, my voice bouncing off the walls. I set the bags down on the cold tile, my chest tightening. No answer.
I walked through the kitchen, peering around the corner. Nothing.
I checked the living room, but it was empty too. My steps quickened.
"Bree!" I shouted, louder this time.
I sprinted up the stairs, my pulse hammering in my ears. I threw open the bedroom door. It was empty, just like the rest of the house. Panic shot through me as I called her name again, my voice cracking.
"Bree!"
Finally, a soft reply came from the bathroom. "In here."
Relief crashed into me as I rushed to the door.
I pushed it open, expecting, I don't know what. But there she was, kneeling on the floor, her back to me, holding something in her hands.
"Bree?"
I dropped down beside her, wrapping my arms around her, and pulling her close. She didn't resist, but whatever she was holding slipped from her hand, landing on the tiles with a soft clatter.
I looked down and froze. It was a pregnancy test.
Heart pounding, I reached for it, turning it over in my hands. My eyes landed on two pink lines. The room seemed to tilt.
"What the fuck is this?"
She exhaled softly. "Thor, it's obvious, isn't it?"
"No," I snapped, shaking my head. "No, Bree, it's fucking not!"
Her eyes lifted to meet mine. Calm. Too calm.
"I'm pregnant."
She stood and turned to the sink to wash her hands as if this was just another moment in her day.
I stumbled to my feet. "Bree... how?"
"We can't... I mean..."
She turned, "Really, Thor? You want me to diagram it for you? We even played with your cum. What part of this isn't clear?"
I stared at her, my throat dry. "We can't do this," I said, my voice breaking. "Bree, we can't."
"But we can," she said. "And we will. There's no going back."
Her words sank into me like a stone, dragging me down, my chest tightened as flashes of a future I wasn't ready for raced through my mind. A child. Me, a father. It didn't feel real, it felt like a bad joke.
"Bree," I whispered, swallowing hard, "this is insane. Call me selfish, but isn't it crazy to have a child? Me? As a father?"
Her eyes softened for just a moment, a single tear slipping down her cheek. "We can do this," she said quietly.
But I didn't. I couldn't.
I turned and left the bathroom, the test still clutched in my hand, and I collapsed onto the bed, burying my face in my hands.
My breath came fast, shallow. "You need to see a doctor. You need to... you need to end this."
I heard her sharp breath, and then she was storming out of the bathroom, her face wet with tears. "Are you serious right now?" she shouted. "No. Absolutely not."
"Bree." I stood, walking toward her, trying to keep my voice steady. "What if... What if something happens? What if I hurt you? Or the baby?" My hands hovered near her shoulders, unsure if I should reach for her.
She shoved my hands away. "Don't touch me!" Her voice cracked, but her anger burned through it.
"What if he or she..." I paused, my throat tightening. "What if they end up like me? What if I ruin them, Bree?" My hands finally fell onto her shoulders, desperate to make her understand. "I don't want to hurt you. I don't want to hurt them."
"What if something happens to you, and I'm left alone with a baby? What kind of life could I even give them?"
Her voice wavered as she looked up at me, her eyes already shining with tears.
I pulled her closer, my arms tightening around her. "I can't even take care of myself," I said quietly. "Let alone a baby."
"But you're taking care of me," she whispered. I could feel her shaking, each sob breaking against me.
"That's different," I said.
I hated seeing her cry. It ripped something open inside me every time. But the thought of bringing a child into this mess terrified me. If it was a boy, what if he grew up like the worst men I had known? What if he hurt people, and turned into someone like Josh or Vic? And if it was a girl… God, what if the same things happened to her that happened to Bree? What if I couldn't protect her? What if she ended up with someone like me? A man too broken to love her right, someone who would turn her pain into addiction so he can enjoy.
I couldn't take that risk. It was too much. But as much as it terrified me, I knew this wasn't just my choice to make. She had a say in this too, even if it tore us apart.
For the first time, I felt a tear slip down my cheek. My voice cracked as I said, "Go to the doctor." I stepped back, my hands falling to my sides. "If you want to keep it, I'll leave. If you don't…I'll stay."
Her face crumpled, and she collapsed into me again, her sobs hitting like punches I couldn't dodge.
"Your choice," I whispered, steadying her before letting her go.
She looked at me through the tears, "I fucking hate you, Thor Karlsson," she sobbed.
Her words hit harder than I expected, but I didn't stop. I turned and walked toward the door, every step pulling me further from her, from us, from everything.
"I hate you!" she screamed behind me, her voice shaking.
It cut through me, but I didn't turn back. I couldn't.
When I hit the cold air outside, I stumbled onto the snowy stairs, sinking as my breath came in gasps. I looked at my hands, at the scar across my palm. My father gave me that scar the first time he sent me alone into the woods.
"Fuck."
My hands clenched into fists.
I couldn't do it. I couldn't bring a child into this world, not like this. Not with all the pain I carried, not with all the things I'd seen. I couldn't risk becoming my father. I couldn't be the reason another person ended up broken.
And her…she deserved more. More than me. More than this life I couldn't give her.
I was a monster, and monsters like me didn't deserve to be fathers, but angels like her deserved every chance to be mothers.