Someday We'll Tell Each Other Everything by Daniela Krien, Jamie Bulloch Read Free Book Online

and I let them; I’m looking at the sack, but there’s nothing moving inside it. I follow him into the house, into the kitchen. He puts the case onto a chair and drops the sack by the cooker. Wood, I tell myself, it’s just wood, but why does he need to heat the place? It’s summer. He pushes me toward the table, sits me on a chair with armrests, shakes his head, and says, “That was something else.” Beside me is a glass with clear liquid. I pick it up and drink—vodka. Henner takes the scarf from my shoulders. His big dogs are scratching at the door. He’s shut them out. He doesn’t want witnesses, I think, they could bark it to the whole world. I like this image so much that I almost burst out laughing. Something in the sack moves, it can’t be wood after all. Standing behind me he puts his hands around my neck. I’m going to die. If I don’t die now I’ll never be afraid again. The dogs are making a racket. I have another sip. He lets me go again and I finish my drink. Now I can see my bare feet. I don’t have my shoes on anymore; Henner has them in his hands and he tosses them carelessly into the corner by the sack. I’m not mistaken: something is moving inside. “Now I’ve caught you,” he jokes, “and dragged you back to my den.” Then he laughs, and it sounds to me like the rumble of thunder.
    A hare, I think, there’s a hare in the sack. He’s set a trap and caught a hare. For the dogs, those beasts of his.
    I don’t know how he got me into the other room. Perhaps I just followed him. There’s an open window, a yellowed curtain is billowing in the evening breeze. Between the lime trees I can see the gable of the Brendels’ farmhouse and the light on in the window. Johannes is waiting for me. My dress has a side zip, my fingertips are touching the top of the window frame, small pieces of paint flake off, and Henner’s hands are rough. Like a sleepwalker I step out of my knickers and dress, which is now covering my feet. He’s breathing gently and rhythmically on my neck, and I’m sure my heart is about to stop. It misses a beat, then sparks back into life: a shudder flashes through my body, an uncontrollable shudder, and then several more. He holds me firmly until it stops. I can feel small stones beneath my feet; the dogs have quieted down. From behind his hands press against my pelvic bone and inch downward to my inner thighs. Then, with gentle force, he pushes my legs apart. I support myself on the windowsill so I don’t fall over. Zossima springs to mind as he quotes from St. John’s Gospel, saying to Alexey, “Except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone: but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit.”
    Then I fall onto the bed and into a deep ecstasy.
    I don’t deny him anything, not even when he lifts me from the bed and says I must kneel. Not even when he wraps my braid around his hand and watches me from above, doing what he tells me to. Now it’s him trembling. I’m going to be seventeen soon. In the old days that made you a woman. My grandmother had her first child at seventeen; that’s what it used to be like.
    But still, I can’t help shedding a few tears. He lifts me up and sits me on the edge of the bed. I fall back, close my eyes, and feelthe warm humidity of his breath between my legs, then his lips, his tongue—I’m falling. He makes a noise like a dying animal—a furious, desperate panting. I don’t dare to open my eyes. He grabs my legs, pushes them wide open, and enters me. He starts thrusting, then faster and harder. I slide backward, he grips my arms, turns me onto my stomach and pushes a pillow under my pelvis. I don’t understand, I try to turn over, I want to see his face, but he puts his heavy hand on my neck and holds me down. I close my eyes.
    Shortly before midnight I leave Henner’s house carrying my case. As a good-bye he takes my head in his hands and plants a kiss on my forehead. Then he puts his index finger to his