The boy with a dragon tattoo (The lethal encounter in Stockholm)

The boy with a dragon tattoo (The lethal encounter in Stockholm) The boy with a dragon tattoo (The lethal encounter in Stockholm)

Status: Finished

Genre: Non-Fiction

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Non-Fiction

Summary

This is how I end it all...

Summary

This is how I end it all...

Content

Submitted: October 11, 2012

A A A | A A A

Content

Submitted: October 11, 2012

A A A

A A A


 

Real story. I will not be disguising any identities or locations. This is just what happened to me. This is what killed me... 
 
 
It was a beautiful friday morning. I woke up before my alarm, in fact - I was in the kitchen making myself a cup of coffee when it went off. I rushed to silence it, and went back to the kitchen. I usually enjoy sitting down and having coffee quietly, planning my day, but this morning was different. I was so excited, I could barely contain myself, so I was pacing up and down the room and corridor, sipping the coffee and worrying about things I may have forgotten to pack. I had a list in my head and kept going through it for a good half hour. Passport, ID card, credit card, phone charger, mains adaptor, hotel itinerary - check. Double checked and patted my two cases, one small piece for cabin luggage that contained the most important things, and the checked luggage with all the alcohol and some warm jumpers, as well as some things, which are nice, but I can survive without. I had my bag stuck with an airline for some five days a few years ago when taking a connecting flight, so I was not going to take any risks - it was meant to be the perfect weekend. My 26th birthday weekend in Stockholm.
I dragged my cases outside, locked the door and headed for the station. It was only about 6.30 am, but the sun was so high already, the skies blue, very little traffic on the road - I could even hear the birds sing. I was smiling to myself all the way to the airport. I got there early, so grabbed a large latte and read the newspaper until the boarding began. 
We landed at Oslo Gardermoen a bit ahead of schedule, with just about enough time to get to the connecting flight, which was departing from a few gates away, but the peculiar norwegians decided to take us all through passport control and security checks again, even though most of the passengers were continuing their journeys and not staying in Norway. That really annoyed me. First we had to wait for a bus, which took us all the way around the airport, dropped us off at the stairway to passport control; then I nearly fainted when I saw the queue at passport control. I kept checking the time nervously while queuing there and at the point of getting my ID back from the customs officer I had 20 minutes to get to and go through security checks again and find the gate for the Stockholm flight. I was running with my suddenly heavy cabin bag. Felt relieved to see there weren't many people going through security, I was out of breath by the time I got there. Some three young men were in front of me, they looked at me trying to catch my breath, smiled and asked if I was alright. I smiled back and said I will be alright if I make it to my next flight. They asked how long have I got, I said 20 minutes... then glanced at my phone to check the time and corrected myself - 15 minutes. They insisted I go first then, they had a few hours left till their flight, so weren't in a rush. I laughed and said thanks. Just as I was passing through the metal detector, it started beeping. I couldn't think why would that be, everything and anything metallic was in the tray, getting scanned separately... The customs officer came up to me and told me to take off my shoes to scan them on their own. And decided to do a random check too. Just after everything was done I realized that I had bought a sandwich on the first flight and by habit - put the change into my jeans pocket. Doh! That was what set the alarm off. Oh, well, there was no time to think about this now, I had to continue running to the gate 36, if I really wanted to make it to my flight now. I made it without much time to spare, just sat down, did my seatbelt and we took off again. But I made it! Although today I really wish I hadn't made it... I must say Norway is so beautiful from above. 
An hour later we landed at Arlanda airport. There I was at last, on swedish soil. I rushed to the baggage reclaim, and just as I had suspected - my bag wasn't there. Great, I thought. I felt quite relieved about my decision to pack the most important things into the cabin bag. I gave all the details of the bag at the assistance desk, told them where I'm staying and headed to the hotel. I knew something else was gonna go very wrong today. Tried to believe otherwise, but my gut really insisted so.
 
 
I checked in to the hotel, walked, it seemed, a mile from the elevator to my room, unpacked my little case and went out in search for some wine, since my bigger case was still making its way to me from Oslo. Without much wandering, I located the Systembolaget store on Drottninggatan, found my wine, paid for it and felt quite hungry - it was getting close to 7 p.m. and all I had had to eat since early morning was the sandwich on the first flight. So I found a small, but cosy pub and ordered a steak there. My mood was getting better after all the misadventures with flights., but my ears were still aching and I couldn't hear properly still. I hadn't flown anywhere in a long time and felt the consequences heavily. 
After the meal I ventured back to the hotel and opened the wine. Looked out the window, but all I could see was the inner courtyard. No view. To be honest, I didn't come to Stockholm to look through the hotel window, so it didn't bother me. I dug out the dressing gown and slippers from the hotel wardrobe, a nice perk of The Sheraton meant my missing baggage did not impact me so much. I put on some radio channel on the TV, undressed, looked at myself in the huge mirror by the bathroom door with a glass of wine in hand. I did not like my body. I had lost a tremendous amount of weight recently, so I saw every single stretch mark and every piece of soggy skin... I looked so much older than 26 to myself... I stepped into the shower. Scrubbed myself tip to toe - to get rid of all the travel dust. I came out all refreshed, wrapped in the soft dressing gown and resumed drinking the wine. Then the phone rang. Reception were telling me my baggage had been delivered, they were bringing it up to my room as we speak, yay! About time, when I already had bought the additional alcohol. I got everything else unpacked, had some Baileys from my lost and found luggage while I ironed my clothes one more time - no matter how you pack, they always get creased in the suitcase. Then it was time to get dressed. I took out my lacy black knickers, bra, plain, but sexy black corset... put on the luxurious black stockings reserved for an occasion that seemed to never come, so I decided to try them out just for the sake of it. Suspender belt matched the rest of my underwear perfectly. The black knee-length skirt followed with a 3/4 sleeve open top - to keep my arms warm. Then it was accessory time - black lacy choker, a heart locker pendant, lacy wrist warmer on one arm, a few bracelets on the other. I even put some eye-shadow and mascara on, though I rarely ever use make-up. Then I gathered my purse, bag, put the sandals on and had one final look in the mirror - I looked much better to myself now. In fact, I looked gorgeous. A woman in black. A sprinkle of Angel perfume on my wrists, neck and hair meant I smelt gorgeous too. And I went.
I wandered through Drottninggatan again until I came to Sergels Torg. I didn't have a plan, so intuitively took the left turn onto Sveavägen. And kept going. Since it was friday night, there were a lot of people around, all merry and slightly drunk. I observed the strange customs of pushing past people without excusing oneself, listened to a few drunken swedish songs that someone was singing while walking a few steps ahead of me. And then I came by one seemingly busy rock bar. Pub Anchor. I liked the music I heard, so decided to pop in. Ordered a cider and chilled out outside, talking to a few strangers for a while, who told me that there was a band due to play in this pub at midnight, so I decided to stick around. I don't know who has been spreading those nonsense rumors about the swedes being rude and cold and never talking to strangers - I was doing better than at any english pub, I didn't even have to initiate the conversations, I was popular. 
Then the band started playing, so I moved inside and closer to the stage. Had another cider. And then I felt it - a set of eyes on my back - someone was watching me very intensely. I am rather sensitive when it comes to other people observing me. I turned around and looked straight at him. Our eyes met at that moment and my heart skipped a beat. I found myself looking at the floor in a matter of seconds. I could not hold THAT gaze. I needed some fresh air. So I squeezed past the crowd offering unexpected apologies, past him too. He didn't see me this time, so once I got outside I tried to convince myself that my drunk mind had made it all up. Took a few deep breaths of not so fresh air, since everybody outside were smoking, and went back in. I wanted to see some more of that band, so I had to squeeze past his company again. My heart was beating like crazy. And then someone said something to me. It was some guy from the same company as my admirer. I had to ask him again, because he spoke swedish and I simply didn't understand. He looked like a 5 year old on his birthday when he heard me speak english. So we talked for a while about nothing, he tried to open my heart locker pendant, maybe hoping to see a picture of someone in it. But it was empty, just as I had told him. Then I noticed my admirer stood right beside me with his arms crossed, trying his best to look to another direction. I could see him much better now - shoulder length brown hair combed back, brown eyes, gorgeous lips, a 3 day stubble...  He was wearing jeans and a muscle-top, not that the muscles were very distinctive, but his arms were heavily tattooed. It was quite dark in the pub, so I leaned slightly forward to examine the artwork. I was caught red-handed though and now I had to say something to him. So I smiled and said I liked his tattoos. He studied me for a few seconds, as if trying to see all the way down into my damned soul, smiled back and started telling me about them. On his upper right arm he had half sleeve - a big skull with some flames bursting out of it, said that it was his first one. The left arm was a full-sleeve with a rather cheeky, colorful dragon, a few flower petals scattered around - that was the newer one.
So, with the ice broken we were now talking about me. Where was I from? What was I doing here? What did I do for living? How old was I? I said 26. "86??" I heard back. "No, t-w-e-n-t-y six!!", "But born in 1986, yeah?" - he was winding me up. He then said he "was 84", I did my maths and concluded that he's 27-28 years old. 
And Where was I staying in Stockholm? At first I didn't want to say I stayed at The Sheraton, so he wouldn't think I'm bragging or something, but he insisted. He was laughing at my mistrust. Then he told me a bit about himself, he was a mechanical designer at some company designing and manufacturing newspaper stitching machines. He had travelled a lot with work, had just been to Hong Kong and going back there in a few weeks time, we even established that he once stayed not more than 2 miles away from where I lived. I was cursing in my head that I hadn't met him back then - I really liked this guy. 
Then my glass started feeling kind of empty, so I readied myself to go to the bar for another, asked him if I could get him anything while I was there. He thought about it and said "Surprise me". I must say I hate guesswork, so I tried to get a sniff of his glass, I could tell it was something with cola, but you can mix a lot of things with cola, so I was really clueless. He then saw what I was trying to do and hid his glass behind him. I didn't feel like arguing much, so just went to the bar and ordered the same cider for me and a gin & tonic for him. I think he was surprised enough, he admitted to drinking it earlier that evening, he was also relieved it wasn't anything with tequila. He hated tequila. 
I think my memory went on a break at that point, I only remember looking at him and smiling... Then lifting my hand up to get a stray lock of hair out of my face... and he caught my hand there. He was really studying my reaction now. I said nothing. I was just staring at his hand holding mine. My thumb moved involuntary, stroking him and feeling his soft skin. I told him I liked the softness of his hands... then blushed, closed my eyes and shook my head - I couldn't believe I said it out loud... I thought he was leaning over to say something to me, but felt his warm moist lips on mine instead of hearing any words... I sobered up immediately. What?! Is this where I'm supposed to wake up or something? Is this really happening? I don't know which made me dizzier - the kiss or the cider, but I felt myself sway a bit. I put my head on his shoulder for a moment before he ran his fingers through the back of my hair and gently, but firmly pulled my head back and started kissing me like I've never been kissed before - right in the middle of the damn pub. I couldn't believe anyone would ever want to kiss me in public at all... Why was he doing it? My heart was trying to break out of my chest, I didn't know what was I supposed to say or do. We stood there like that for a while and then he asked if I'd like to go back to his place. I knew that one from somewhere. I said "Maybe...", and smiled. He said that we could go back to my hotel room instead if I wanted it that way - if that was why I hesitated. I asked him if he was sure it was a good idea... He assured me it was. "Then," I said, "yours is good". 
He didn't waste any more time, grabbed my hand and pulled me outside, we got into a taxi, he told the driver where we needed to go, I couldn't understand anything but one word - Ripstigen. Now we could finally have a quality conversation, since we didn't need to shout into each others ears in order to hear each other anymore. He was asking me why was I going with him? Was I just too drunk? Asked me to just be honest - did I like him? He said that he would feel bad if I only went home with him, because I was so drunk, he said he really liked me... And how about me?.. I said I wasn't that drunk... that I was still able to make my own decisions, and, of course, I liked him too. We kissed and hugged, and smiled to each other... Then the driver disrupted our romance, I couldn't understand a word he said, but I assumed he was asking for some more directions now. When he was told what he needed to hear, I heard whispers in my ear about the driver being a clueless idiot and not knowing where was he going at all. I giggled and we continued kissing until the car stopped. We had arrived. 
 
 
He led me to an apartment block building, unlocked the door and we stepped into the lift, went up and once he got his door unlocked, he invited me in. The first thing I noticed was a sparkling clean cooker on the left. Tidy flat in general, no rubbish rolling around on the floor, it even smelt nice. A clean man, huh? I couldn't believe it. While I was taking my sandals off, he rushed to the other side of the flat, opened the balcony (I think?), so the living room seemed more spacious. He then said he'll put on some music that he really liked, I immediately recognized the new album of Sabaton - Carolus Rex. He asked if I'd like anything to drink? I said, most probably not, because I was drunk enough already... Maybe a glass of water? "No", he said and smiled, as he continued fetching the glasses, a bottle of gin and a bottle of tonic. Chopped some lemon into the glasses too. Shoved one of them into my hand, put his arm around my waist and looked at me smiling. I raised the glass and said "Skål!", watched the totally surprised expression on his face, but immediately heard a "Skål" back. He showed me around his flat a little bit. Shown me a huge painting on the wall with some purple old looking car, said he had bought it and then realized it wouldn't fit in his car to take it home, so he had to get someone with a van and it cost more to get it home than the painting itself. I noticed the car in the painting was the same color as my nail polish. We laughed at that. 
And then the real interrogation started. He was asking me so many questions... I didn't know what to answer and which question should I answer first even. What were my hobbies? I didn't know, I never thought about those before... He thought I was just shy, so he started telling me his - interior design, cooking, rock music... I was surprised at the cooking part, I never laid my eyes on a man who liked cooking before. I thought clean men that liked cooking only lived in fairy tales... He was really pushing me to tell him something about myself though and I couldn't think of anything. I had buried myself too much in digging for truth about the world issues of late, GMO, fake foods, carcinogenic fluoride in our water-supplies, chemtrails and other sorts of geo-engineering, The Venus project and Zeitgeist movement, technological achievements of humanity, that get bought off by some billionaires and stashed away in drawers, so they couldn't ruin their fossil fuel greed "businesses" and so on... But could I tell him that? Does thinking of a plan to save the world count as a hobby? I didn't bank on him to understand all this, just vaguely said that saving the world was my hobby. Did he understand? No. He insisted I tell him about other hobbies - there HAD to be something else I enjoyed doing. I tried my hardest to think about something, but my life was pretty empty... "Music", I said finally. "Heavy music..." He still wasn't entirely satisfied with my answer, but had to let it go. He liked music too, said he had even been to the Download festival this year at Donington park. I was gobsmacked. He spent quite a bit of time in the UK for a swede. I realized that I hadn't even asked his name yet - It didn't seem very important to me before, but there I had an opportunity to distract him from bombarding me with all these questions. He smiled and said his name was Christian - with a "Ch". While it didn't seem strange to me, I recalled that in Sweden it was more common to spell his name with a "K" instead of "Ch". I didn't know what to say again. He was holding me in his arms, kissing me again, one hand was in my hair again and he kept yanking my head back, so he could have access to my lips and neck, so he could look into my eyes and I couldn't just shyly examine the floor while listening to him talk... Every time I tried to turn away from his gaze, he yanked my hair, so I'd look straight at him. It was causing an adrenaline surplus in my bloodstream, I couldn't figure out if I was turned on or scared by it... He still wanted to know a lot more about me and I was determined to keep it all to myself. Until he hit a really raw nerve in me. He asked about my family. I can't control my emotions too well while under influence, I tried to hide the escaping tears, but, of course, he noticed. Said i didn't have to tell him if I didn't feel like it, he didn't want me to cry. But just those words made me want to tell him. I had carried that burden in my heart for long years, it was about time to get over it. I told him about all the physical and mental abuse that I went through in my childhood and teenage years, until my own mother attempted to kill me one day. I ran away after that and never came back. Sought asylum in the neighboring country, because social services always believed my mother and not me, nobody ever stood up for me or defended me, I could only save myself. So there I got myself a job finally, but didn't really like it, only did it to save up some money and decided to try my luck in London. I found myself standing at pigeon-infested Victoria station at the age of 19 with a single backpack that contained a few changes of clothes and some £200 in my purse. And built a totally new life for myself. From scratch. Wow, it felt really liberating to finally tell someone that story. It made him sad though. He asked where my father was in that case - and I said I'd never met him...
He hugged me tightly now, continued kissing me, I played with his hair... I loved his hair. I had my arms around him too, caressing his back... I confessed I had never went to a stranger's home. Ever. He said I was so cute... I don't think he took my statement seriously. Maybe he just didn't know what to say to it. Instead he said he knew what I was wearing. And I figured out what he was talking about straight away. He then went and got his newly purchased camera and took a picture of me. I sat down on the arm of a sofa, he came closer and showed the picture to me. I was damn ugly... He moved closer to me and lifted my skirt up... and took another picture. A picture of the lace edges of my stockings held tightly by the suspender straps... He kept repeating how hot this was... He put the camera away now, pulled me up and stroked my thighs... lifted my skirt up again - I shivered. I noticed him losing it now, his breathing was faster, he didn't control himself much anymore, the kissing became really intense... his hand slipped under my lacy knickers - I gasped for air... I was ashamed of being so wet down there... It seemed to encourage him even more though, we turned around and I tried to distract him by asking about the clock on the wall above the TV, it was shaped like a horse, so I asked if he liked horses... he said he did. He said he loved getting a bit dirty... then pinned me to the wall just outside his bedroom and kissed my lips... bit my neck lightly... he groped me everywhere and I was losing control of myself now too...
 
We stood there, by the same wall making out for quite a while, there was a lot of passion in the air... I don't know what took him so long to take things forward, maybe he was a bit shy too?.. He finally took the initiative and unzipped my corset... pulled it off... then got rid of my bra... I took his shirt off too. Our warm bodies touched now - I closed my eyes and enjoyed. Then he dragged me to the side, and gently pushed me into his bedroom... he was still wearing those jeans, so I dropped down to my knees... undid his jeans and pulled them down. I could not resist licking him and sucking a little bit... he sat down on the bed, then totally relaxed and laid down enjoying the movements of my tongue and lips. I think. He was so reserved that I couldn't understand if I was doing it right or wrong... I had never done it before. Never met anyone whom I'd want to please this way. Until now. But this lack of reaction really put me off, so my lips travelled upwards via his stomach... chest... neck... He then got a grip of me and thrown me on that bed, kissed me wildly everywhere, bit my neck quite hard, then bit my arm... I don't know why, but I really liked being bitten by him... He then went all the way down, pulled my skirt off, then dealt with the suspender belt, knickers and stockings - pulled all of them off in one go... I melted into the sheets when I felt his hard tongue caress me down there... He really knew what he was doing, he drove me crazy... Then he bit the inside of my thigh and that one really hurt and I told him so. He said it wasn't any harder than the other bites which I enjoyed so much - but admitted that the area was way more sensitive there... So he went back to licking me into insanity, I could not contain myself anymore, pulled him up and sucked into his awesome lips... I felt his hips squeeze in between my legs... And then he invaded me. It felt so good, so intense... I lost any trail of thought I may have had before, the time stood still and I surrendered to him completely... 
 
We changed quite a few positions in the course of a few hours. He did some totally amazing things to me, some of which I never even thought possible. I used to think that the G spot was a legend - he proved me wrong... I didn't even understand what was he doing to me exactly, I asked him and he laughed, did it again with his fingers all the way in me and when I was moaning close to unconsciousness he would ask - "That?", and smiled... I had never even imagined that sex could be this good... He seemed to know my body better than I did myself. I was rapidly falling for this man... I loved every minute of it. 
It dawned outside meanwhile, our hangovers were setting in. I got really thirsty, asked him if I could have some water... He said he was thirsty too, so we both went to the kitchen area to rehydrate. My silly phobia had set in and I had to ask him if the tap water was fluoridated? I don't think he understood the question, he just giggled and didn't say anything. I think I had more than a glass anyway. We stood there watching each other drink, then headed back to the bedroom. On the way back he pinned me to the same wall just outside the bedroom again, he wanted to explore all of my body. I got really defensive there, I hated all my stretch marks and the hanging skin. I kept trying to cover myself up, but the sunlight seeping in through the windows didn't help my case. He saw that I was very uncomfortable with his explorations so we went back to bed. We rested for a while, talking. I asked him if I remembered right about him taking naughty pictures of me. He said he had taken a few, but I had way too many clothes on... I wanted to know what was he gonna do with them. Where they gonna end up on facebook or somewhere else on the internet? He said if he'd do that - I could report him easily, couldn't I? That calmed me down. 
He checked his phone and said that his friend had sent him a jealous text, saying that HE was talking to me FIRST. Jesus, I had forgotten about that guy completely! Did he mean he talked to me first, so I should've gone home with him??? No way. I had talked to way more people that evening - were they ALL hoping to take me home?... We laughed at that together. I thought that was really uncalled for, we didn't do anything wrong, I didn't give him any hopes. 
While I was thinking about it, Christian started coming onto me again. We kissed and he put me on top of himself. I was starting to feel the effects of all the wine, Baileys, cider and gin & tonics, I wasn't well, so couldn't quite move... So, while on top of him, I pressed my whole body to his, kissed his neck and stroked his hair again. I could see his face really clearly now that the sun was quite high up.  I held his face in my hands, ran my thumb through his upper lip towards the cheek. He smiled, looked around and said something about his bedroom being so small. I hadn't noticed it before, but now I saw what he meant - while the living room was quite spacious, the bedroom was a different story, it must've been 5 square meters maximum. I said I didn't care about it, said I would've been content staying under a bridge as long as he was there with me. And I meant it... 
Then he turned me over, made me kneel on all fours on the bed and took me doggie-style. He was getting really dominant now, I started craving a good spanking with that, but didn't dare to ask... then he pushed me down and laid me on my side, spooning me from behind. I felt his fingers play with my other hole and I froze in fear - I had never tried that before either. Before I could say anything, he penetrated me anally... I cried out in pain, but was still unable to say more than a hoarse "No.."... I couldn't free myself, I was pinned to the radiator... I couldn't speak out, the pain was getting worse every second and he wouldn't stop... I was crying out loud for a while, thinking that here, perhaps, was exactly what I wanted, and called for - I felt helpless and used in this man's arms... I would've done A LOT for him if only he would've asked. But he never asked... just took it all instead. And didn't care if he was hurting me. Even when he realized that I was crying my eyes out - he still struggled to understand what was wrong with me. I said it hurt. He finally stopped. But I couldn't stop crying. 
The total trust I had in him was broken. I blamed only myself for all that just happened. I agreed to go home with him, so I must've foreseen that he might not stop at my wishes. I wasn't even mad with him. He wanted to make it up to me, so went down on me again, I tried to enjoy it, but couldn't. I asked him to stop - he got upset asking if I didn't like it? I said I did like it - liked it a lot in fact, just didn't want to get used to it. He tried to make me suck him again after that, didn't say it, but tried to push me down instead. The thought really made me sick, so I just looked at him and shook my head. He just went back to fuck my pussy then. I can't say I enjoyed that either. I just let him do it. We were both tired and hungover, so we rested beside each other on the bed, talked about something. He reminded me that I bought him a drink. I said I really must've like him then. I was trying to think of a way to tell him how much he'd hurt me here tonight, but all of a sudden he was snoring. Classic.
I tried to doze off on his shoulder too, but the snoring was too much. I got up, gathered my stockings, knickers, bra and other clothes that were scattered all over the place... Then slumped to the floor and cried while watching him sleep. There were so many mixed feelings going through me at that time. I really liked this man more than I ever liked anyone else... But he took advantage of me in such a way... was it really my own fault?... The more I thought about it, the more it seemed like a total no-win situation. I didn't really want to go and leave him like this, but I also couldn't stay and let him disrespect me even more... I didn't even know how drunk was he initially - what if he won't even remember anything that's gone on tonight and ask me who the hell was I, when he'd wake up?.. I had no knowledge or experience of handling such situations - I had never ever had sex with a stranger before. And he probably thought I was one of those easy girls... Another thing that bothered me was that we didn't use a condom. Yes, not he, but we. It was OUR screw up, I'm adult enough to admit mutual responsibilty. We never really finished, but it still made me uneasy since it's not really a requirement for accidental conception. I was freaking out so much that I got dressed with my clothes inside out and didn't really notice... I just wanted to go... 
But there seemed to be one more problem to solve - if I found the keys and let myself out, he would stay in an unlocked flat, asleep, anything could happen... I dismissed the idea completely. I had to go back to the bedroom, wake him up, say bye and ask him to let me out...  
 
I stepped back into the bedroom with a significant quantity of unease in me. I stood by the bed where he slept and watched him for maybe half a minute. He was so calm. And handsome. I hesitated for a second, but then stroked his cheek and whispered a soft "Wake up" to him. To my surprise, he opened his eyes straight away. And smiled at me. Then I saw sadness in his face as he realized I was dressed. I think he knew what I was about to tell him. I had to go. He didn't like the idea, sat up on the edge of the bed and hugged me around my hips. Then looked up to me, put his hands under my skirt and groped my behind. Said he loved my ass. I got a bit confused, I was never good at taking compliments, but this one was plain ridiculous - I didn't have an ass, really and told him so. I said it was just his imagination - I was rather flat and wished to improve it somehow. He laughed and said he still loved it. It was those damned straps that turned him on again... he pulled my stockings and knickers off AGAIN and pulled me on top of himself. I went along with him, I still wanted him, regardless of any previous events and thoughts. He was like a spell over me, I couldn't resist him even if I tried my hardest. I asked him what was he doing to me, that I was unable to say no to him, that everything we did tonight was way out of my character... I made a bad joke about him probably having put something in my drink, but he categorically denied it. Such suggestion offended him and I said sorry. He didn't say anything back, just swapped places with me and made love to me again. I tried to shoo away all those thoughts and feelings and enjoy all the time I had left with him, I knew I was probably never gonna get another chance like this... The thought of it made me so sad, I couldn't hold my tears back. I was crying because of those thoughts, but smiling at the same time, because it felt so good to be with him... I didn't want this night to end... but it was too late. 
I didn't want to put him off with my tears anymore than I already had, I knew he was very tired, so I asked him not to think about my pleasure anymore, but do whatever he needed to just please himself. I really felt bad about not being able to take him there through all my insecurities... He said that he tried to... but I had started crying (did he mean the anal part?) and he didn't want to upset me anymore, he didn't like to see me cry. And, he said, he couldn't possibly please himself if I was not pleased first... How could I bring myself to leave him now?.. I said that he already WAS pleasing enough for me, that I enjoyed having him so much, I pretty much begged him, but he wouldn't listen... I tried to tell him that I had never had an orgasm with anyone, so I wasn't really expecting anything different this time round, but wrong words kept coming out, so I decided to shut up. Then I said - sorry, I was unable to relax... and he just laid down beside me. Asked me if I'd just stay with him and not go anywhere... please... if I'd just sleep in his arms... stay here forever... He said he was single for 6 years, was so lonely... I felt so bad - I could feel his pain, but didn't think I could do much about it. I said that nobody seems to want me either, so why would he? I said I was so fat and ugly and I should really just go. He objected. He lied.
 
He started talking about food, was probably hungry, asked me what did I like to eat. I said I didn't have any favorites, but disliked the majority of food on offer, because real food was really hard to find these days - majority of supermarket shelves were stocked with all kinds of food-like products instead. There were fat spreads instead of butter, juice drinks instead of juice, meat full of growth hormones and all sorts of additives etc... I said I hated the idea of profit, where people were knowingly poisoning other people just for the sake of profit. Hell with poisoning - plain killing would fit the bill better. He now confessed he was quite hungry, looked at the clock and said that the shop not too far away was opening in about 8 minutes... He said he fancied a burger... My stomach was too sore to handle any food really, I was hungover and extremely bloated after all this love-making. Now I also started to feel the bruises that he left on me with his teeth... I was really sore down below as well. 
I asked if he had a spare towel and if I could have a quick wash before we went. He showed me into the bathroom where I sorted myself out. I was bleeding a bit around the anus, I hoped it would stop soon. Had to turn the water to cold to ease the pain a bit.  Decided against telling him. 
 
I came out of the bathroom, didn't see him anywhere straight away, I think he was getting dressed. I walked past his dining table to the window and looked out, we were quite high up, 4th, maybe 5th floor, couldn't see much of the surroundings, some high trees were blocking the view. Then he came out of the bedroom, picked up his shirt from the floor where I had thrown it a few hours ago... Suddenly I  realized something was missing. For the life of me, I couldn't remember if I had a bag with me upon arriving here or not. So I asked him if I had a bag. He burst out laughing, I laughed too at my own memory loss. No, it wasn't a total memory loss, I just couldn't remember many details - the big picture was all there. So he showed me to the little chair just beside the door, where we left our shoes - I recognized that big ball of black cotton as my bag. Went to check my phone, switched on the navigation to check where I was and to figure out how far from the hotel were we. Entered "Tegelbacken"  into the destination field... I was 8km away. I showed him the screen and asked if that was a correct location? He said yes, it was. He said I could take a train back, that it won't take too long. I went back to my bag to check I had not lost anything. Dug my purse out, which was heavier than I remembered, so I checked it just to find it full of coins - probably change from the pub. I still had about 300 SEK left over in banknotes and thought to ask if that would be enough to get me back to the hotel, but then realized that roughly converted it was close to £30, so it was more than enough even if I decided to take a taxi. It felt really awkward in the flat. He was walking up and down, checking the fridge, then going back to the bedroom, then back to the living room... I brushed my hair and said I was ready. I took a deep breath as he went towards the door, I wanted to say that I really didn't want to go anywhere... But his look was so cold, it made me want to cry. I hesitated for less than a second... and walked out of the door. I didn't know anymore if this man meant anything he said the night before. He didn't even walk beside me, but ahead. Yeah, just like everyone else then. I'm used to it. Nobody ever wanted to be seen in public with me in tow. I was sad. I felt like I was just a one night stand for him and he couldn't wait to ditch me and forget all about my existence. 
We came to the shop he was talking about before, there was an underground station right opposite too. We both walked into the station, I went to the cashier to buy my ticket and he just stood by the door and watched me. Once I held the ticket in my hand, I turned back to ask him if I may have one more hug and a kiss and to tell him I'd never ever forget him... But as I was approaching him, he pointed out that the cashier was holding the gate open for me, so I should really go if I wanted to get to my train - the ticket itself was only paper and I couldn't scan it like the SL card. This really hurt... I don't even remember if I said bye or not, I hurried through the gate and onto the escalator, started to go down... I turned around - and he was still there, watching me... And then I couldn't see him anymore... I burst into tears with sudden realization that it was the last time I ever saw him... Felt several tears go down my face as a soft breeze from an oncoming train attempted to dry them. I was dying inside... The train was already there, so I hurried in and sat down by the window. Looked at the name of the station - Bergshamra. "Bye, Bergshamra..." - I said to myself in my mind. More tears were on the way...
 
I came back to my hotel room, it was around 9 a.m. and most people were going to breakfast, and I was only just coming back from a night out. I felt odd. I didn't even undress, just crashed on the bed, thought about him a bit more, set my alarm for midday and fell asleep. 
But I wasn't awakened by my alarm - it was the bell tower at the City Hall that was extremely noisy... I checked my phone - it was 11 a.m. ... But I was awake now, had a lot to see in the city, so I didn't waste much more time. I made myself a cup of coffee, showered, got dressed and went back out. Now I really felt all the soreness in almost every part of my body. Intensive sunshine brought out the rest of the hangover in me, I popped into some little shop for a bottle of sparkling water, but I can't say I felt any better after it. I was desperate for an iced latte or something of that kind. After a long tour of the tiny streets of Gamla Stan I finally located Espresso House. The coffee was good. I felt a little bit more human now. So I continued my own little tour of the Old Town. 
I came back to the hotel very late in the afternoon, brought back a pizza (the best I ever had, by the way), sat down by the table, poured myself some more wine... I kept having second thoughts about Christian - I was deeply regretting ever leaving him. Why didn't I just stay? I already missed him. Once my stomach was full again, I went out for a walk. I was retracing my last night's route - Drottninggatan, Sergels Torg, Sveavägen... Sveavägen was packed with a lot of old and unusual cars, which were barely moving, so the traffic was almost at standstill. Must've been some retro car owners' convention or something like that, maybe I should've asked someone, but I didn't feel too sociable, my attention was entirely on finding this pub again. Just wanted to sit down there for a while and revive more memories about Christian. I wanted to gather every single detail into one place, put a lock on it and keep it next to my heart forever. 
I had almost reached my destination when I saw something familiar in the crowd. Those arms... one half-tattooed, the other - fully. The hair, those eyes... Was it really him??? How??? Was this even possible? Maybe I was dreaming? A breathtaking chill went down my body, I couldn't move a muscle, my eyes locked on him. He looked at me too, maybe even slightly smiling, or maybe it was my imagination? Hid he want to see me? Did he want to know me still? I could not describe the storm that went on in my heart at that moment. He kept looking at me, but still went past. I wanted to die there and then. I stood there like that for maybe 3 seconds, before I turned around to see if he was still looking. Just as I turned around - he was turning away... My eyes filled with tears all over again and I tried to go after him, but it was too crowded, shouted him, but he didn't hear... I stared at him walking away... When he was already out of sight - something snapped in me. Something similar to determination. HOW did we meet again? Why?! Maybe we just had to meet again. I really wanted to see him again. I had so much to ask him, so much to tell too. I took my phone out and opened the browser. I had to find him somehow. Frankly, there was more chance of a polar bear winning the lottery than me actually finding what I was looking for. My attempt was rather desperate, but I had nothing to lose... I gathered all I knew about him in my head. Christian. No last name. Underground station name probably wouldn't help. Damn right, it wouldn't, the search results were total shambles.  I thought long and hard what else can I use for keywords... But of course! That only word that I managed to catch last night in the taxi. So I typed "christian ripstigen" and hit search... It didn't look promising at all, all the names that came up were different. I clicked on the first one... and realized I hit the jackpot! The date of birth and location matched - I knew instantly it was him. What had I ever done to whom to deserve such luck?! I wanted to jump up and down like an idiot. I copied his full name now and googled it again. Bingo. There was a phone number as well... I copy-pasted the number into my phone book, and lost the plot. What was I to do with it now? 
I sat down on the bench at a bus stop, looking at my phone... I had his number, but couldn't think what should I say... "Sorry, I am a moron, I should've stayed..." No, deleted that... "Hey, I'm sorry for leaving, I wish..." - no, no, no, no... "Hey, sorry about earlier. Anchor again tonight?" And sent. Before I could change my mind again. And the waiting game began.
I went back to the hotel, jumped in the shower again, had a couple more drinks and went out again. I still hadn't gotten a reply to my text, so I thought that most probably he won't come there tonight... He knew I was gonna be there now, so if he really wanted to avoid me, he could just not show up. I had told myself that if he didn't come, I'd be OK, I wouldn't get upset, it would just confirm that he didn't really care about me at all. Maybe he already didn't remember me. 
I was stood outside with a drink, since it was incredibly busy in there due to this strange car event. I had already stopped waiting when I saw him right in front of me. He smiled at me and asked how did I get his phone number, he didn't remember giving it to me. I was painted into a corner there, but I wasn't about to tell him what I did, so, with fingers crossed, I argued that he did give his number to me. He didn't seem convinced, but probably felt that I wasn't about to tell him all about it now. We went inside together, but it was such a tight squeeze in the pub that he decided he wasn't staying. Talked to some of his friends, and said he was going somewhere else. And how about me? I said that it was too crowded for me too, so we went outside and started walking south, didn't talk much, I showed him a few pictures I took on my phone, and once we came to an entrance to the underground station - he said he was gonna go to party with his friends. I said he could maybe phone me if he wanted to do anything tomorrow... He said I could phone him... Those were his last words to me before disappearing down the stairs... 
I was sad again. Decided to go back to the hotel, finish the wine, sleep on it and think again about it all. 
 
I didn't sleep too long, felt on the edge all the time even in the weird dream that I had had. Got out of bed, showered, got dressed and decided I had to distract myself somehow. It was my third day in the city known as the Venice of the North, but the only places I had managed to visit so far were this hotel, Pub Anchor, Christian's apartment and Gamla Stan. There was so much more to see and do here, the weather was gorgeous, so I went out. I had to go through Gamla Stan again, I loved the architecture there. Stopped at Stortorget to listen to some buskers. I have no idea what were their instruments called, but that music was like from another planet. I felt so connected to it. But I had to move on. I walked all the way down to Slussen and took a Djurgården boat. I stood at the very end of it, watching the water... I pictured myself drowning in it. I could do it. But I'm better than that, I am a fighter, I always was. I wasn't going to give up this easily. I broke my eye contact with the water and looked up. I couldn't believe it - there was an amusement park on this island and the boat was taking me there! Yes! Thats exactly what I needed. I had already picked my ride too. I was close to skipping when I got off the boat. Had a light panic attack in the queue for "Insane", but I had to do it. I promise, the person sat next to me had never heard so much profanity in his entire life, I was screaming, cursing and praying to gods I never  knew exist before. I couldn't stand up straight for a while when the ride was over, my knees were shaking and my guts felt upside down... But I felt so much more alive. And I wanted to live again now. Oh, yes, I wanted. That was my fix. 
 
I spent the rest of the afternoon visiting a few museums, parks... Went to the Ericsson Globe and got into Sky View to have a look at this amazing city from above. But I couldn't help my constant thoughts of him, they wouldn't leave me alone. Then I heard an incoming text. Was it him???! No... it was Scandinavian Airlines informing me I could now check-in to my tomorrow's flight and pick my seat. I couldn't stand it any longer and texted him again. "Just wanted to say I'm flying back tomorrow... Have you any plans for tonight? Would really like to see you before I go". Got a reply eventually, saying he was hungover like hell, was meant to have dinner with a friend, but wasn't sure he'd be able to leave the sofa at all... I died a little more inside. I had no more plans that day. The rumbling of my stomach reminded me that I hadn't eaten anything yet. Wondered if Pub Anchor did any food. I took a train to Rådmansgatan, marched in and ordered my dinner. It was lovely, but I couldn't get even half-way through it. Didn't feel like eating at all. Was he really just letting me go this easy? Did he not care to see me at all?.. Why did he come to the pub yesterday then? I kept having flashbacks of that amazing night we spent together, and it just wasn't sinking in that I might not see him anymore. Ever... I didn't know what to do. I didn't know what did I mean to him, if anything, of course. Had he meant anything he said to me that night at all? If so, why didn't he want to see me again? If not, the why did he say all those nice things to me, why did he make me feel this way? Nothing made sense to me anymore... 
 
I hadn't slept that night at all. Tried to watch some TV in my room, but found it uninteresting, I was just lying in bed, unable to get him out of my head. It was around 5 a.m. when I finally gave up trying to fall asleep, got out of bed and started packing. Left a pair of jeans, a top and a warmer jumper on the bed to wear for the journey back home and jumped in the shower. Studied myself in the mirror again. I felt like a piece of meat. I only wanted someone to love me... I still had a huge bruise on my left arm from where he'd bitten me... I was never gonna forget this man. EVER. 
My flight was late in the afternoon, so I still had lots of time. I checked out of the hotel, but left my luggage at reception, so I could go and buy a few souvenirs. I entered T-Centralen station and caught myself thinking about just going back to see Christian. I took the next Mörby centrum train and 5 stops later I was there. I got my phone out and dialed his number. There was no answer. Maybe he's still sleeping? OK, so my plan wasn't exactly perfect... I popped into the shop opposite the station, picked up some swedish chocolate, some caviar, some crisps and a lot of candy for taking home with me, then picked an ice cream for myself and sat down on the bench by the fountain thinking things over... What was I to do now? I looked around while eating my ice cream. He DID say I could phone him, didn't he? Yes, he did. So what was the problem? I got back on the phone. There still was no answer... I turned around and went back into the station. I had precious little time to get some real souvenirs, not just edible ones. I was weeping all the way down on the escalator as I relived that morning when I first did it. Same emotions and feelings flooded me, I could barely see my way... I only just managed to compose myself enough to get onto the train. I went back to the hotel, left my new purchases at reception and went back out. Crossed the bridge to Gamla Stan, and went mad with souvenir shopping. Not like this trip was ever gonna fade in my memory anyway... 
I picked up my bags and went to the station for the last time. Located the platform for Arlanda Express and sat down waiting. I was sleepy. Nearly fell asleep on the train. I realized that during my 74 hour stay in Stockholm I had slept for maybe 9 hours - maximum. I was drained physically and emotionally.
And there I was - at the airport at last, but I didn't want to go home. I checked my bags in, went towards the gates and broke down completely just before passport control... I leaned against the wall, trying to hide my sadness from everybody, trying to stuff it back into my torn heart and never let it out again. But I couldn't... The tears kept flowing like waterfalls as I tried to accept the fact that I'll never see Christian again. He totally owned my body and soul. Could I still change my mind? Could I stay? Could I go back to him again? I couldn't believe he didn't want to see me anymore. If that was the case, then why didn't he just say so? I cried through the better part of my flight too. The man sitting beside me was really uncomfortable with my tears, but since I kept looking through the window, I didn't really give him a chance to ask any questions... 
 
The landing was bumpy. My ears were aching again, I could barely hear what was the cashier asking me when I went to buy my rail pass to get home from the airport. I got back home just in time for dinner, but I wasn't hungry. I didn't even unpack, except for caviar, because it had to be refrigerated, and crashed into bed - fell asleep almost instantly...
Woke up the next morning feeling very strange. Was it all a dream? Maybe it never really happened? My memories seemed so surreal... I went downstairs just to find my two suitcases stood by the wall, waiting to be unpacked, as proof of everything being real. I went to the kitchen to make myself a coffee... Just like that friday morning. So, it all really happened... Or was this just another dream I had to wake up from at some point? I didn't know anymore. I checked my phone - no calls, no texts. Nobody needed me nowadays. Nobody even noticed I was gone away. I summed up the courage and opened the messaging app. Typed a simple "Hey, how have you been?", selected recipient Christian... And sent. Waited an hour or so and decided to add that he could find me on facebook if he wanted to and wrote my screen name. Just as I thought, there was no answer. Days gone by and I was getting more and more hopeless... Slowly, but surely, it was sinking in that he didn't care one bit for me... Had I upset him in any way? How? When? I would've done anything to fix it... But instead I only had the silence...
 
Another week went by. And another, then maybe one more... I had lost count. I lived in my own world of self-blame, self-disgust, hopelessness and failing to understand what had I ever done to him so horrible that he was treating me this way? Surely, it wouldn't hurt him to just answer me with a "Get lost", if he hated me so much? Why be so cruel and leave someone wonder like this without any closure, no ending, nothing whatsoever? I hadn't eaten anything since coming back from Stockhol


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