Chapter 43
Liisa
It has been three whole days. I’ve worked out day from night by the sliver of light over my head and the noises of Johanna’s routine.
The shuffle of her heavy feet. The cabin door slamming as Mikael leaves for the forest. Every second feels like forever as I sit wrapped in blankets, rocking on the spot.
I talk to myself about home. I talk about my family, about how I will decorate my room.
Anything to take myself away from here. I think about my friends and my teachers at school.
I can feel myself falling behind. I think about survival and what I need to do to stay alive.
My first night in this pit I dug a hole for a toilet and covered it up.
The smell makes me so queasy that I force myself to suck on the liquorice that I found in Mikael’s bag of supplies.
They make my teeth all furry. I hate the smell of them because they remind me of his breath.
But they’re better than the stink of my home-made toilet in this cold underground cave. The roof creaks above me.
Today Johanna’s footsteps are heavy and specks of dirt rain down.
It’s in my eyes, my face, my hair. It stops, as does Johanna.
I keep my breath low as I listen out for her.
My fingernails are thick with soil from when I tried to tunnel my way out.
But to where? I’ve already tried escaping.
There was nothing but trees and ice. Mikael hasn’t spoken to me again.
I relive the last minutes when I disappeared.
Could I have done more? Mama would have taken the gun.
She would have shot Mikael first, then pulled the trigger on Johanna.
Then she would have taken the keys of her yellow car and driven for help.
But would she have done it when she was twelve years old?
Then I remember that the gun wasn’t loaded in the first place.
My stomach growls from hunger and I am thirsty all the time.
Not a regular thirst. There is an itch at the back of my throat that I can’t reach by swallowing as my mouth is so dry.
I sip from my bottle of water, but it makes a hollow sound.
There’s nothing left but air. I get thrown one bottle a day, and leftovers that always smell funny.
I hate fish with a passion. The walls feel like they are getting closer.
There’s life in the dirt. Living creatures that crawl on my arms and face when I lie down to sleep.
I’m so tired all the time. This morning—at least I think it was this morning—I burned my hand on the heater because I jumped away from a spider. But nobody came when I cried.
She is moving again. My stomach churns as I hear her right above me.
She’s pulling at the hatch. That gorilla of a woman is coming for me.
Every thought involving her is unkind. I cannot help myself.
A plan flashes in my mind, and I don’t have time to work out whether or not it’s a good idea.
I lie on my side, eyes shut, playing dead.
I feel the light of the hatch behind my closed eyes.
Seconds pass as I hold my breath. But I can hear Johanna’s, thick and whistling as it passes through her congested nose.
The edges of the hatch creak and I imagine her leaning on it, her big wide head blotting the light out.
If she thinks I have fainted, maybe she’ll set me free.
But there are no steps down to this place.
I don’t think she can make it here right away, even if she wants to.
She grunts as she moves. Can I keep this up?
But then I hear a slosh swirling in a bottle of water.
I flinch as it hits me in the leg. Johanna barks what I think is a laugh.
“Well, well, little mole. I was going to let you out,” she sneers, her words hard and cold.
“Playing dead earns you another night in the hole.”
Then the hatch slams above me and the white light goes out. I sit up and let the tears flow. I’m crying, not because I am sad, but out of relief. She’s letting me out soon. I’m not going to die down here. I clasp my small wooden doll to my chest, taking comfort in its pointy edges. I’m getting out.
I awake to raspy voices from above. How long have I been asleep for?
The sliver of light is still there. Johanna and Mikael are arguing.
But it isn’t the usual shouting match. This is harsh but quiet whispers.
I stand as the radio is turned on, my heart fluttering and jumping in my chest. Something is up.
What was that? Did I just hear a knock on the cabin door?
Three loud raps. I’m shaking. Help—help is coming. Because nobody comes out this far. There’s somebody out there. Voices. More than one. I listen as the door opens. Then I scream.