She's Never Coming Back by Hans Koppel

slimeball of a restaurant owner. He’d contacted the hospital and now the police. There wasn’t anything else he could do.
    Mike went out to his daughter in the sitting room. She looked at him.
    ‘When’s Mummy coming home?’
    ‘She’ll be here soon. Any minute, I reckon.’
    ‘Do you think she’s bought anything?’
    ‘What? No, I don’t think so.’
    Mike turned to look at the TV and hoped that Sanna would do the same. He didn’t like her looking at him when he was weak.
    The feeling that overwhelmed him now was guilt. His efficiency was swept to one side by a blast of regret. He’d run to the teacher and told tales. He could see Ylva’s accusing eyes.
    One bloody night. Couldn’t she have one bloody nightoff and let her hair down? Without him getting hysterical and behaving like an idiot.
    ‘Do you want to build a tower?’
    ‘Lego,’ Sanna countered.
    ‘Okay, Lego.’

20
    Violence / threat of violence
    Violence and the threat of violence are constantly present in the victim’s life. A woman who continues to resist is subjected to violence. In those cases where the woman refuses to give in, the abuse can become so violent that it can lead to death.
    The man smiled when he opened the door and saw Ylva holding the jagged chair leg up like a weapon in front of her. It wasn’t the reaction that Ylva had hoped for.
    ‘Let me go,’ she said.
    She wished that her voice was stronger. The man closed the door.
    ‘I said LET ME GO!’
    She sounded desperate now. The man didn’t answer. The door clicked shut behind him. Ylva thrust the chair leg around in front of her, threatening.
    ‘The key, give me the key!’
    The man held the key ring out in front of him. He was finding it difficult to hide his amusement.
    ‘Drop it on the floor.’
    The man did what Ylva told him.
    ‘Move away.’
    She waved the chair leg at him.
    ‘The kitchen?’ he asked, and pointed towards the kitchenette.
    Ylva realised that that wasn’t a good idea. There wasn’t enough distance to the door.
    ‘The bathroom,’ Ylva ordered, and backed away to give him room to pass.
    He nodded and went in.
    ‘Close the door behind you.’
    He obeyed.
    ‘And lock it,’ Ylva shouted.
    He locked it. Ylva looked around for something to jam the door, but there wasn’t anything except the broken chair.
    She bent down and picked up the key ring, without letting go of the chair leg. With shaking hands, she fumbled for the right key. There were two to choose from. Finally she managed to get the first one in, but couldn’t turn it. She pulled out the key, dropped the key ring, bent down and picked it up again.
    The second key didn’t fit in the lock at all. She tried the first one again. Had just pushed it back into the lock when the bathroom door opened.
    ‘Do you need some help?’
    Ylva spun round, holding the chair leg in front of her with outstretched arms.
    The man came out of the bathroom, put his hand into his pocket and pulled out a single key.
    ‘Guess you’ve got the wrong ones,’ he said.
    ‘Give it to me!’
    The man stepped back, smiled.
    ‘You’ll have to get it from me.’
    Ylva went for him. She lifted her arms above her head and stormed towards him. He jumped nimbly up on to the bed.
    ‘This is fun,’ he said. ‘Just like when we were children.’
    ‘Let me out, you bastard.’
    ‘Of course. But first you have to get the key.’
    He held it out, teasing her. Ylva got up on to the bed, the man stayed where he was.
    ‘Give it to me.’
    ‘Here, take it.’
    ‘Put it down,’ Ylva ordered. ‘Put the key down now.’
    ‘Take it.’
    ‘I’ll hit you.’
    ‘Come on then, take the key.’
    Ylva swung the chair leg and hit him and gashed open his hand. He looked at the thin line that was now filling with blood.
    ‘That hurt,’ he said, and put the wound to his mouth and sucked.
    ‘I’ll hit you again,’ Ylva screamed. ‘I will. Give me the key. Now!’
    The man stopped sucking. The amused look on his face had