Chapter 38 38

That's a damned sin!Did anyone allow them to do this? She didn't respond, wondering what had prompted her to tell that story, especially since she'd never mentioned it to anyone before.Her loss has been gnawing at her like shards of glass.The unyielding sharpness of the incident kept the wound prickling, though she had never expressed her grief in words before. She would tell him her story, perhaps because he was her son's age, or because everything seemed so hopeless that silence was unnecessary. But what happened? She hesitated, these were the memories she had been trying to forget.

They had to lock me up and I was locked up in a mental hospital for almost half a year.At that time, I just couldn't face it anymore. God don't you, you know, go crazy? She didn't bother to respond, and the two of them sat in silence for a while. There is no way to face it, what does this mean?Did you run away? Yes, I ran away.I don't think they'll come after me, I'm no threat to the general public. That is, not as it is now. Where are your father and mother?What do they say? Good question.Well!They said I couldn't be with them, that I was grown up and had my own bed, could sleep by myself, etc.

fucking psycho. Indeed. what do you do then She looks at him. Are you always so curious? I've never talked to homeless people before. She sighed and looked up at the ceiling.Well!So, just listen and learn from it! At first, I went to the big nearby town, Vaxsjo.I was terrified that they would find me and take me back to the hospital.I was nomadic for about a few months, sleeping in the basement and eating whatever food I could find. How old were you? Just passed my eighteenth birthday. Bee is now three years older. than me. He turned to look at her: than what? You should say three years older than me.

He snorted. Are you the annoying prefect at school or something? She smiled at the night, no, she was never a prefect, they wouldn't choose her. No, but my Swedish is pretty good, good at writing articles and stuff like that. Why don't you get a job? I dare not tell people my name, they might recognize it, you know?I think they are looking for me and the police are looking for me. That last sentence brought her back to reality.Where did this chat take her?Now is the time to make a long story short. Good night! He raised his head and propped it up with one hand. Hello!You can't stop now.

He sounded disappointed, but she turned her head to face the wall. It's almost eleven o'clock, I'm very tired, that's it, good night! please!Just one more thing.What happened to you in Stockholm?Can you tell me something too? She sighed and turned her head away again.The lamps that illuminated the clock face cast white light into the attic, but the corners were still dark. Listen, that's all I can say.If I were you, I'd find a job in television.You won't be able to sleep if I tell you everything I've seen, done, and felt in the street. She paused for a moment, trying to find the right words.How much can she give herself?Then she sat up.

Six of those years were blank, I couldn't remember anything, who was I with?Where do you sleep?Most of the time, I was drunk and completely unconscious.I don't want to be able to think, because if I could, I might lose my breath and sink down without a trace.Do you understand?You just live on the street, it's really hard to extricate yourself.The main reason is this: You can't adapt to living in other environments.You have to be able to adapt to normal society, and you don't want to adapt, it is a vicious circle.Patrick, you gotta listen to me, I know what that's about, your idea of ​​freedom is wrong, it's a bunch of shit, some just don't sleep well.You don't fucking understand life like that, not really.

She lay down again.Just this once, Patrick was silent, probably silenced by Sybylla's violent reaction.Would he really be here all night?Maybe he's angry now? The two of them didn't speak a word.She could hear Patrick tossing and turning, trying different positions on the thin sleeping pad, and then the loft fell silent. She felt very restless and could not sleep.Closing your eyes, the pictures in your memory flashed one by one quickly.She had avoided those stored experiences for years, and his question had lifted the lid off that. She remembers hitchhiking to Stockholm, hoping to fit in with the capital's crowd and find a way to make a living.She was always afraid that they would track her down, take her back, and lock her up in the hospital again, as if everyone cared that she was missing.

Then she slowly understood how difficult it was to find a safe haven without money, connections, or even a name.She dared not use her identification number, which meant she could not go to the job center to find a job.She took some illegal jobs as a cleaner or dishwashing job, but she left as soon as anyone was curious about her.She seemed to feel safe only with people who knew each other by nicknames and who never asked questions unless they wanted to drink or do drugs and had to.Finally, half-starved and exhausted, she had to face sheer humiliation, swallow her pride, and call home for help.She begs for forgiveness, telling them she wants to go home again.

We'll give you an allowance, Sybylla, and we'll send that money to you if you give us your address. As usual, the thought made her stomach cramp.If only she hadn't given in!She often thought that that phone call was more unbearable than anything she had ever experienced.What made her intolerable was that the last time she talked to her mother, she was forced to apologize again. She started receiving that money because she had an income and spoke in tongues, so her companions called her Queen Smaland. Her lost years had begun, and she had spent all her energy trying to stay drunk as much of the time as possible, and it didn't matter, as long as her brain activity was permanently set to low gear, most things would become bearable.In the process of such depravity, one will even gain a sense of security, which means: nothing will be questioned, and nothing will be unacceptable.Slowly but surely, she got used to people's more or less scorn.Admitting she was a loser just defined her solidarity with the rest of the vagrants.

For six years, this was her life, six years wandering outside. Then, a turning point occurred.She woke up on a bench near the sidewalk in Slussen, drunk, vomited, and lying in her own faeces.A whole class of elementary school students stood around her, looking at her curiously. Teacher, what is she doing there?Is she sick? Teacher, why does she smell like this? A circle of children watched this scene with open eyes in amazement. This was the first time they had seen the unbearable side of an adult. The rather shocked teacher, about her age, appeared out of the blue and took the child in her charge away in a protective gesture.

Come here, don't look! Then suddenly a terrible idea flashed into her mind.One of these children may have been her own son, and her state at the time vindicated her mother's decision. She turned to look at her newly found companion, who seemed to have managed to fall asleep after all.She climbed out of her sleeping bag and covered the boy with her thick coat.He lay on his back with his arms folded across his chest to keep him warm. He is so young! His whole life lay ahead, untapped.Somewhere her son was almost his age. She crawled back into her sleeping bag.Stay any longer in this attic and she'll go crazy. Getting out of that thought made her immediately understand that something was happening to her, and it was a good thing.She took another look at the boy and thought, he brought something else, something much more important than ribs and Coke.His respect for her, respecting her as a person gave her a new kind of dignity.For some unthinkable reason, he was the one who found her here, and she was made stronger because of his unreserved attention and admiration for the character she represented.Some of her normal intuitions seemed to have been damaged beyond repair over the past few days, but now, those intuitions were being revived.Most important: the instinct to fight the impossible. The worst darkness dissipated.Tomorrow she's going to pick herself up and do something. This time, they won't break her, so stand up!She did not know if the nationwide search for her was still going on.Better get a newspaper.