An that’s how it started. With Karen taking another sip. Like most people here, she yearned for something that belonged to her, something nice, warm, because it was drafty everywhere.

And it’s just ghastly when a warm place is nowhere to be found. For Karen it had been her brain, it had become useless as a result of all the chemical processes. There was no place where Karen would be safe. Only her boyfriend, who smelled good, had a car, complimented her, and kept the alcohol flowing. Her boyfriend, whom she’d slept with—that’s how you said it, even if it was just a quick fuck, which was followed by another quick fuck.

Again Karen had felt nothing to write home about. During this second time, a couple days and a couple meals and kissing on the lawn later, on an old mattress in a cellar, Karen thought: Is he done? And Patuk was done and gave her some pills and said, wait, things will get better in a second. Things got better. The pills were magnificent. Karen’s body got warm and seemed to drift away, same with her brain; she grinned strangely, unable to stop grinning, and the room spun. From far away she heard words. “Just this one time. I have a real problem.” What pimps always say.

Then an old man was standing in Karen’s field of vision. He opened his pants; Karen was already naked. He squatted over her, and Karen felt him push into her. She was still wet with Patuk’s sperm, which the man didn’t like either. He cursed, then pulled his pants up and left the room. Karen didn’t know exactly what had happened. She also didn’t see the friend of Patuk’s who had filmed the incident on his phone. When Karen’s head began to clear, Patuk was lying next to her, stroking her. But it didn’t get better. Her boyfriend drove her home later and asked whether it was bad, and told her she had really helped him out and that he loved her even more. What pimps always say. Karen was neither stupid nor a little girl, but she was in love. She lay rigid in her room and barely dared to breathe, because that would mean she was alive and would have to think. Later Karen stood at the kitchen window and looked down. It was a long way. Then, a glimmer of her previous intellect, she thought momentarily of her friends.

Of Peter and Hannah

And of

DON