Voyage 2002

"Sex against your will is rape..." April 2002 / Björn

WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS ABUSE. IT MIGHT TRIGGER YOU + IF YOU HAVE SUICIDAL THOUGHTS, PLEASE LOOK FOR HELP (AS "AGNETHA" DID IN THIS CHAPTER). PLEASE KEEP IN MIND THAT YOU'RE WORTH IT TO BE HAPPY TOO. WITH LOVE, ME & I

He sat on a stool at the kitchen island in Agnetha's kitchen. Frida and Benny were cooking and Agnetha was sitting next to him. Pale and tired, but relaxed at the same time.

For a moment he reached for her hand which was in front of her. She looked at him, smiled and he wanted to give her a kiss, but decided to take it easy and pecked her hair instead.

Very briefly she put her head on his shoulder and it felt so good. So breathtakingly good. And so different from the beginning of the day....

Around twelve o'clock he arrived at Ekerö. By phone he had asked Frida if she wanted to wait until Agnetha and he had spoken. If things went wrong, Agnetha would at least have her to look after her. Frida had agreed and then he had driven to Agnetha's house with a heavy heart.

They had embraced each other and the three of them had drunk coffee. Agnetha didn't say much and he didn't really know what to do either. Frida talked about some hassles she had with a contractor who did a job for her.

After coffee, Frida made sandwiches. Agnetha barely ate.

Almost immediately after lunch, he suggested they'd go for a walk. They really needed to talk, and they'd better do it as soon as possible.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Frida's encouraging nod to "Minsting" as they headed out the door.

Actually, he wanted to take her hand, but he didn't dare to. They walked uncomfortably side by side. At the same time, they began to talk.

"Björn?"

"Agge?"

They chuckled.

"No, you tell me," she said, as by now they had arrived at her dock, which she never used herself. She didn't have a boating license. Once she had been working on it, but then she had crashed their boat into the dock and he had been startled. "Hey, careful!"

"Fuck you!" she shouted. "With your fucking boat and your fucking island!"

1978...

They walked to the bench. There were two large pots next to it. He could see that she had recently planted flowers in them.

"I wanted to say that I spoke to Frida yesterday," he said, as they sat down next to each other on the wooden bench. Luckily the sun was shining a little, because it was pretty cold.

"I know that..." she replied, swallowing and looking at him briefly.

"I don't know the details, but I understand that the son of a bitch..."

He clogged up. For a moment he closed his eyes. He sighed and began again. "He, he raped you... and so I... I don't know what that's like...but it's one of the most humiliating things I can imagine."

He looked at her. She nodded. Her long, slender fingers played with the rings she wore. Light pink nail polish.

"May I ask if it was a one-time thing?"

She cleared her throat. "It wasn't."

Her voice sounded hoarse and thick with tears and he grabbed her hand.

"No?"

She shook her head. "Opinions are divided on how often it happened. Gunilla counted differently than I did. I only count the times I resisted myself."