Stalker

14

Erik shuts the door behind him, unfolds the stand and attaches the camera to it. Björn watches him, rubbing his forehead hard with one hand.

‘Do you have to film it?’ he asks.

‘It’s just a case of documenting what I do,’ Erik replies. ‘And I’d rather not have to be taking notes the whole time.’

‘OK,’ Björn says, as though he hadn’t really listened to Erik’s reply.

‘You can start by lying down on the sofa,’ Erik says as he goes over to the window and draws the curtains.

The room fills with a pleasant semi-darkness, and Björn lies back and shuffles down a little, then closes his eyes. Erik sits down on a chair, moves closer to him, and sees how tense he is. Thoughts are still racing through his head, as different impulses tug at his body.

‘Breathe slowly through your nose,’ Erik says. ‘Relax your mouth, your chin and cheeks… feel the back of your head lying with all its weight on the pillow, feel your neck relax… you don’t need to hold your head up now, because your head is resting on the pillow… Your jaw muscles are relaxing, your forehead is smooth and untroubled, your eyelids are feeling heavier…’

Erik takes his time, and moves through the whole body, from Björn’s head to his toes, then back up to his weary eyelids and the weight of his head again.

With soporific monotony, Erik slips into the induction, speaking in a falling tone of voice as he tries to gather his strength in advance of what is coming.

Björn’s body gradually begins to exhibit an almost cataleptic relaxation. A mental trauma can lead to increased receptivity to hypnosis, as if the brain were longing for a fresh command, a way out of an unsustainable state.

‘The only thing you’re listening to is my voice… if you hear anything else, it only makes you feel more relaxed, and more focused on my words… I’m about to start counting backwards, and for each number you hear, you’ll relax a bit more.’

Erik thinks about what’s coming, what’s waiting inside the house, what Björn saw when he walked in through the door: the illuminated moment when the shock hit with full force.

‘Nine hundred and twelve,’ he says quietly. ‘Nine hundred and eleven…’

With each exhalation Erik says a number, slowly and monotonously. After a while he breaks the logical sequence, but still carries on the countdown. Björn is now down at a perfect depth. The sharp frown on his brow has relaxed and his mouth looks softer. Erik counts, and sinks into hypnotic resonance with a curious shiver in his stomach.

‘Now you’re deeply relaxed… you’re resting nice and calmly,’ Erik says slowly. ‘Soon you’re going to revisit your memories of Friday night… When I finish counting down to zero, you will be standing outside your house, but you’re completely calm, because there’s no danger… Four, three, two, one… Now you’re standing in the street outside your house, the taxi is driving away, the tyres are crunching on the grit covering the tarmac…’

Björn opens his eyes, his eyes gleaming, but his gaze is focused inward, into his memories, and his heavy eyelids close once more.

‘Are you looking at the house now?’

Björn is standing in the cool night air in front of his house. A strange glow is lighting up the sky in time with the slow rhythm of his heartbeat. It looks like the house is leaning forward as the light expands and the shadows withdraw.

‘It’s moving,’ he says almost inaudibly.

‘Now you’re walking up to the door,’ Erik says. ‘The night air is mild, there’s nothing unpleasant…’

Björn starts as some jackdaws fly up from a tree. They’re visible against the sky, their shadows move across the grass, and then they’re gone.

‘You’re perfectly safe,’ Erik says as he sees Björn’s hand move anxiously over the seat of the sofa.