Page 175 of These Tears

Sunna strikes up a conversation about reindeer hide. I wait until Elias’ attention shifts towards Anders, then ease away from the table and towards the door when—

‘Oh,’ Inga calls from across the yard, ‘dial zero for an outside line first, then the hash key!’

The words carry cleanly through the space.

Elias’ head turns inch by inch, like an animal catching the scent of blood.

And he stands.

Slowly.

Firelight flickers over him, stretching his shadow long across the frozen earth as he unfolds to his full, terrible height.

He doesn’t shout. Doesn’t hurry. His jaw sets as he looks from the door to me.

‘I’ll show her,’ he says as his nostrils flare.

Every fine hair on my neck rises.

Fucking Inga.

30

I don’t remember crossing the yard.

One moment, I am beside the table with Inga’s voice still lodged in my skull, and the next, my boots are on the steps, my hand on a doorframe, and heat hits my face hard enough to make me squint.

Someone moves aside for me. Someone says my name. Laughter spreads. The fussing of a newborn trails after me.

I push through the room, brushing against shoulders and hips, apologising without hearing myself do it. Faces turn towards me. Questions follow.

Behind me, the outside door opens again.

The room tells me it’s him before his footsteps do as eyes turn towards him.

My heart climbs into my throat as I walk, but I soon realise there’s nowhere to go.

So I rush up the wooden stairs. The little lavatory appears on my right like a mercy, and as soon as his bootfalls punish the first step, I turn too quickly, catching my shoulder against the frame.

Pain sparks down my arm, but I barely feel it.

Before I get a chance to close the door, he’s there.

Too large for the doorway. Too quiet for the speed with which he has caught me.

He turns on the little light that throws a weak amber shine over his dark curls.

The warmth he wore by the fire is gone.

He steps in and I stumble back against the sink.

The door shuts behind him. He stays between me and the handle.

Click.

The lock turns.

I’m sure there’s air in the room – I simply can’t get any of it.