Prologue
PROLOGUE
Her bedroom had become a prison. She wasn’t forced to stay, but the fear of the outside world kept her from leaving. And yet, it was a place of confinement that made her fear life itself. It was a haunted place, infested with demons from her past and terrifying nightmares, shaking her to her core. She wanted to run away and escape, but she feared the demons and nightmares would follow. They were in her head, not in the room—she understood that much. Also, where would she go? At least here, she was “safe” as she was being watched.
Even a virtual connection to the outside world through a device felt daunting. She tried not to look at the numbers on the little app icons—how many missed calls and messages, how many unopened emails awaited her—but every time she glanced at her phone, she felt nauseous, so she put it away and ignored it. For the same reason, she kept her laptop shut. She only opened it to talk with Anita, her therapist. But being so confused and lost, she had trouble keeping track of time and often missed their appointments.
She never really knew what time it was. She dozed off for a couple of hours when there was daylight, and her prison felt less agonising and scary. However, in Sweden, the days were short in January and February, with little sunlight. The rest of the time it was either grey or dark outside; it could have been any time of day. Her brain was so soggy that the hands on her watch made no sense anymore. Which numbers were they pointing at, and what did it mean? The Rolex felt heavy and too big on her ever-thinning wrist, so she no longer wore it. Time became meaningless, as there was nowhere to go and nothing to do. Each day was survival, remembering to have a bite of something and just trying to function. The nights were all about making it to sunrise when she could finally relax and rest.
She spent her nights navigating through misty images and locations, events that may or may not have happened in the past. Often, she was unsure if she was dreaming or not. She kept jolting awake, never feeling as though she’d actually slept. Sometimes, she was so wrapped up in a memory or emotion that she felt trapped. She could not get out of it—it would consume her and suffocate her until she had to gasp for air. It led her to hyperventilate and pass out, only to wake up confused and shaken, unsure what had happened and where she was. The nightmares made her afraid to sleep in the dark, but never sleeping and staring into a dimly lit space made her hallucinate, blurring the lines between reality and dreams. Deeply traumatic events came alive and played out before her, surrounding her and making her the main character against her will. The vivid memories dragged her through the rabbit hole so deep that she could no longer see the light at the end of the tunnel. There was no escape. She was a prisoner of her own mind, which could no longer reason. Her trauma had finally grasped her, forcing her to feel all the emotions she had never let herself feel. In the end, there was only paralysing fear. But fear of what? He was dead. He only existed in her mind.
The sky was overcast and dull, but it was daytime. Having slept for a couple of hours, she was now wide awake. She felt clearer in her head than she had for weeks when she opened her laptop to see if she had a session this afternoon. The two lines held her gaze for quite some time. It was a message from Anita. She had missed their appointment yet again last night.
“Come to me, dear. Just leave. Drop everything. It can all wait until you are back. You need help, Jen. You are not well. I will help you, but I can’t travel. You need to come to me. Will you do that?”
“Yes.”
