An orb of bright light illuminated the farthest corner of the dark, empty room. White and pure as silver, it created shadows on the floor in front of it, a distorted image of the body of a young man. The light flickered from time to time in complete silence, disturbed only by the sounds of breathing coming from the owner of the shadow.

Images flashed by on the computer screen in front of him, images of the sort you hide away from prying eyes, hidden well within the files of your computer. The young man sitting in front of the computer skimming these images in a hurry said not a word as the images slowly escalated in lewd content. His breath became heavier by the minute.

The bright screen hurt his eyes, and the deep shadows all around him only gave him a headache, but he could care less; right now it was all about this one moment of satisfaction, that fleeting second of bliss that took him away from the troubles of the world. He often wished there was another way, something else he could do besides this perverted act that could calm him down, but he never found it.

And so he did this, day after day. The same monotonous movement over and over just to achieve some semblance of peace within his mind. The images flashed quickly before his eyes and he took all of them in, as if he was feeding off of the perverted and depraved acts of sex before him. The man’s breath grew faster, strained. It was almost time.

Then he heard the rattle of keys outside the door.

He instantly panicked at the thought of being caught doing what he did, and quickly raised himself up from the chair to tuck himself back within his pants, struggled a little bit with the zipper before he managed to close it. With newly formed beads of sweat running down his forehead, he grabbed the mouse ton his left and quickly closed everything on the computer that could give him away.

“Anton?”

The young man almost choked on his own breath as the voice reached his ears. With hurried and shaking motions he clicked his way into the nearest folder, which happened to contain movies, and clicked the first file without even checking to see what it was. He muttered a curse as the movie refused to start. He frantically moved the cursor of the media player to make the movie start.

“Shaun! Hog Lumps!”

The image of Simon Pegg getting hit in the face with a bag of snacks suddenly filled the screen. He tried to fast forward again. It didn’t work, and only caused the movie to freeze instead. Had he not been in this situation, with his pants halfway buttoned, his heart in his throat and a woman outside his door, the frozen image of Simon emotionless face after snack throw had probably been hilarious. Now it just stressed him even more.

A short moment later he opened up YouTube and clicked on the first video he saw without paying much attention to what it actually was. He sat down as fast as he could in his chair and put his chin in the palm of his hand, trying to stare at the computer screen with an uninterested face.

Behind him, the door finally opened.

“Anton? What are you doing?”

“Oh, just… watching a video, I guess.”

The sound of bare feet came closer to him from behind, and his heart skipped a beat as the worry built up inside him. If she figured out what he’d just been doing, she would have his head. He jumped slightly as she placed her hands on his shoulder, and he shuddered at the warmth of her breath against his face as she leaned down beside him.

“… PewDiePie?” She asked. “I thought you couldn’t stand him.”

“Well, I… I thought I might, you know… get some variation.” Anton said back to her, his heart threatening to burst through his chest.

“You’ve been doing it again, haven’t you?”

Anton froze in place. “Doing what, dear?”

The woman let go of his shoulders with a quiet scoff. A few seconds later, she grabbed the back of his chair and spun him around in his place. The look she gave him when they came face to face said everything, and Anton understood there was no point in trying to act surprised or innocent any longer. She knew. Her eyes burned behind her glasses.

“Do you think I’m stupid?” She asked. “Don’t you think I can smell what you’ve done?”

“Come on, Jennifer… It’s natural. Everyone does it.”

Jennifer sighed angrily and rolled her eyes at him. “When you’re single, maybe.”

She grew silent, and Anton didn’t respond. Didn’t know what he should say, because he knew that whatever he said to her, it would just start another argument. After a little while, Jennifer threw up and arms and groaned with an annoyed expression on her face. As she did, she turned around and started towards the door.

“Jennifer…” Anton spoke out, trying to stop her. “… I’m sorry, okay?”

“No, I don’t wanna talk anymore.” She answered as she pulled open the door.

Anton got up from his chair and hurried after her as the slammed the door hut behind her. He quickly opened it and stepped through into the hallway. She was already by the front door, hastily putting on her shoes. She didn’t look at him when he spoke to her.

“Jen, come on, stop it. I don’t know, we could-“

“No.” She interrupted him mid-sentence. “Have fun with your porn, Anton.” She finished tying her shoes and look up at him with angry eyes. “I’m leaving. Don’t talk to me, don’t call me.”

Before Anton had time to answer, she opened the front door and stepped out into the stairwell and begun closing the door behind her.

“Wait!” Anton said. “Don’t go, you know I still lo-“

“Fuck you.” Jen closed the door with a loud slam.

Anton could hear the soles of her boots against the stone stairs outside as she hurried down, passing the other apartments filled with people he’d never met, yet lived so close to. People he didn’t care about. He cursed to himself for being such an ass, and kicked one of his own boots across the hallway.

“Förbannade jävla helvete!”

He didn’t move for a long while, he just remained in the hallway, looking down at the boots he’d just kicked. They looked like shit, just like him. Discarded, spent, used, broken. A piece of shit no one wanted to have. He couldn’t help but clench his fists in anger.

Slowly calming down just a little bit, he decided to rummage through the pockets of his jacket until he found the little box he was searching for. Marlboro. He needed something to calm his nerves. As he opened the small package, he walked over to the kitchen and grabbed the lighter of the table before he stepped out on the balcony. He pulled out a stick and tried to put it between his lips, but his shaking hands made it difficult.

Clumsily he lit the cigarette, and took a long, deep breath. Soon, the substances within the cigarette calmed him down enough to stop his shivering. He blew out the smoke between the lips, feeling his body relax even more as he did.

The view from his balcony wasn’t grand by any means, but it was all he had. Just grey buildings, grey streets and grey skies. Here and there he could see someone stepping out on their balcony as well, probably to take a smoke, just like him. Somewhere off in the distance, he could hear music playing and people shouting and laughing loudly. Probably a party somewhere, bunch of kids getting pissed.

He used to be like them, a few years ago. Whenever there was a party, he’d be there. Wherever there was beer, he’d be there, drowning himself in it. He stayed the longest, drank the most, and did the stupidest things. Just like most kids, he was a stuck-up moron who thought he owned the world and nothing would hold him back. Least of all his parents.

It was just a phase, though, and it didn’t last long. He often thought that was a good thing; he stopped before he did something really stupid or something that would affect the rest of his life. But for a brief moment in his life, he was a rebel, a drunk, the life of every party. And he was the biggest asshole to ever walk this earth. At least, that’s what he told himself.

With a quiet sigh, he snuffed out the last bit of his cigarette in the overflowing ashtray on the table next to him, and as always, he told himself this would be his last smoke before quitting for good. Anton stepped back into his apartment and shut the balcony door behind him. He could still hear the movie playing on his computer in the other room, but didn’t bother to turn it off.

He sat down at the kitchen table, tried to collect his thoughts, but they refused to stay put. He couldn’t think straight, and he wasn’t sure if he would even like it if he could. Everything had gone to shit lately, and he just cruised along for the ride.

While Simon Pegg was climbing up a wall to his ex’s apartment in the other room, Anton headed back into the hallway and pulled on his boots. Black cowboy boots that he bought some time ago on a sale in town. He was sure that the smell of sweat within them could take out a small country.

Reaching into the small closet next to the door, he stopped for a few seconds. His hand rested over the soft fabric of one of Jennifer’s shirts, a red one with short arms and winged skulls covering the front. He pushed it away to get his jacket.

Every time he put it on, it felt heavier than he remembered it. Strange, seeing as it was nothing but an ordinary leather jacket, yet it felt like it weighed a ton. Anton pulled it over his shoulders and pulled his long blonde hair out from underneath the collar.

“Get fucked, four-eyes!”

Simon Pegg was shouting in the other room again. Anton remember that scene well, where he was arguing with that stiff David-guy over his ex. Anton took another glance at his girlfriend’s shirt, and once again felt the anger bubble up inside of him.

Yeah, get fucked, four-eyes.

He opened the door of his apartment and stepped out into the stairwell, closing the door behind him with a loud bang. His keys rattled as he put one of them in the lock and turned it before running down the stairs.

The air was cool when he stepped outside, a gentle breeze blowing into his face. That, combined with the sudden lack of sounds, music or shouting, created a strange contrast against the stiff and colorless spirit of the town. Slowly, Anton started walking down the street to his left, put his hands in his pockets and just drifted away into the cool night.

Street after street passed him by, and he didn’t even notice that he’d put another cigarette in his mouth. It’d become second nature, automatic, as normal as breathing or blinking, and he almost shut it out completely. It was a filthy habit, sure, but at least it calmed him down. This was his last stick before quitting, he once again promised himself yet again.

He’d walked the same path hundreds of times, always down the same streets and corners, passing the same shops and houses. Anything rarely happened on his walks, except maybe bumping into some old friend on the street, but those encounters where few and far between.

A police car rushed by him on the street, going down the road before him before turning down another. Anton didn’t pay it much attention, he was used to the police patrolling this part of town. He’d lost count on how many times he saw the police being called to a loud party, or just checking up on some group of teens. Everyone around him was paranoid of kids, it seemed.

Since he’d once been one of them, he could understand that paranoia. Drunken teens could be a real pain in the ass to listen to, even intimidating in larger groups.

The cigarette was spent, and he stopped to discard it. He threw it on the pavement and crushed it with his boot, just to be sure. When he looked back up, he found himself staring into the window of a small café, one he’d never been in before. It looked inviting with its comfy booths on the side, warm lightning and frilly little curtains.

All his anger had made him hungry, and when he stood there and looked inside, he realized just how cold it had suddenly gotten. He pulled up his shoulders and shuttered slightly before taking a few hurried steps towards the door.

Once inside, he was bombarded with smells. Freshly baked bread, cinnamon buns, cookies and other various pastries and food lined the counter before him, and the strong smell of it all almost made his head spin. When he looked at the loafs of white bread, the glistening ham and cheese, the biscuits and cakes, he silently cursed himself for not finding this place sooner.

“Can I help you?”

The voice caught Anton off guard, making him jump slightly. He looked up, and saw a tiny little woman standing in the other side of the counter, a smile across her face. She had long black hair, tied in a small knot on the back of her head, and her eyes looked a little bit narrow.

“Oh, sorry, I was miles away.” Anton said quickly after clearing his throat.

“No worry.” The woman said back to him. “Anything you want?”

It was clear from her accent that she wasn’t from around here. Her Swedish was a bit broken, but he could still understand what she said easily. Anton guessed she was from the Philippines or something similar; he wasn’t too good when it came to geography and nationalities.

“Uh… Maybe that shrimp sandwich?” Anton said, pointing at what he meant. “And, uh.,. One of those cinnamon buns there, please?”

The woman nodded and quickly scooped out the things he’d pointed at. “Eat them here or do you want bag to carry them?”

“I’ll eat here, thanks.” Anton responded. He didn’t want to go outside again, now that he was inside this warm and cosy little café; he never wanted to see the cold streets ever again.

“Would you like some coffee with that?” The woman said as she placed his food on a small, shining white plate.

“Oh, yes, please.”

While the woman went in the back to get his coffee, Anton heard the door open behind him. He quickly glanced over his shoulder and saw an older man walking in; his face covered in wrinkles of skin, and the top of his head covered in thin, grey hair. He had small eyes, and an even smaller nose, but his chin was sharp with a little grey stubble on it. The man smiled at him, and Anton gave him a quick nod before turning back to the counter.

The woman came back with a cup in her hand, hot steam rising from the dark liquid within it. She put it on the counter next to his order, and Anton couldn’t help but think to himself that even their damn coffee smelled amazing.

“That will be… Forty.” The woman said as she counted out the price of each article on the counter.

Anton opened his jacket and pulled out his wallet from the inside pocket. He picked up a few coins and a twenty bill, counted it out in his hand.

“Crap, I’m fifteen short here…” He said to the woman behind the counter. “The coffee is fifteen, right? Maybe I could just, um… skip it?” He tried his best to give her an apologetic smile.

She looked at him for a few seconds before answering, like she was scanning him or something. At first, Anton almost thought she didn’t understand what he said, and was about to open his mouth again when she finally answered him.

“No worry.” She said, smiling again. “Take it, you look like you need it.”

Anton started protesting, there was no way he could take it without paying, that would be rude, but the woman shut him up, telling him it was no big deal, and again, saying he looked like he needed it. He didn’t understand what she meant, but he folded and thanked her before turning around to find a seat.

He took aim on one of the booths over by the window. As he came closer, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the window, and one look at his face told him why she said he needed it. He looked like shit, plain and simple. His eyes looked tired, and small bags had formed underneath them. His skin looked like it was about to fall off his skull any minute.

The blonde hair on his head looked almost like a wig, like it didn’t belong together with such a sorry face. He tore his eyes away from his miserable reflection and sat down in the booth. The fabric was soft, and he sank down in his seat just a little bit before stopping. He wanted to sit there for the rest of the day if he could, sit there and eat his food in complete silence. Peace and quiet, surrounded by smell of bakery and coffee.

The old man sat himself down at a table close by, holding a similar sandwich in one hand and the paper in the other. Anton tried to read the headlines on the first page as the man opened it, but he couldn’t make out what it said, and so he returned to his own sandwich.

“Hey, kid.”

Anton looked up from his cup of coffee towards the old man who was now looking at him. The man held up a page in the paper for him to look at, the picture of some politician gracing half of the page.

“Can you believe this?” The man asked. “Murdered in broad daylight! It’s no wonder this country is going down the drain…”

Anton was about to speak, not realizing he still had his mouth full of coffee, and the burning sensation quickly forced him to swallow before it got too bad.

“I’m not really… into politics.” Anton answered the old man. “But, uh… that’s Löfven, right? Stefan Löfven?”

The man nodded. “Social democrat, yes. Can’t imagine why anyone would wanna hurt him.”

“Maybe they just didn’t agree with his politics.” Anton said.

“Yeah, I guess. But still, don’t you think that’s a bit too much? To kill a man over his opinions… Olof Palme all over again, I tell you.”

Anton responded with a sigh and a nod before taking the first bite of his cinnamon bun. The old man didn’t say anything else, and went back to reading the paper again. Anton guessed the guy just wanted to talk to someone, anyone. Maybe he was lonely. Anton couldn’t blame.

“Nice jacket, by the way.” The man suddenly said. “Where did you get it?”

Anton looked up with raised eyebrows, being caught off guard by the question. “Hm? Oh, I, uh… It used to belong to my older brother.”

“Huh. A gift or something?”

“Sort of, yeah. I don’t talk about him too often though.” Anton said.

“Oh, sorry to have brought it up, then.” The man answered. “You know, I once had a sister, but she’s… no longer here, so to speak.”

“Sorry to hear that.” Anton said as he picked up the plate from the table and stood up, ready to leave. “But, uh… I better get going, it’s getting late.”

“Well, nice talking to you.” The old man said as Anton passed next to him. He held out his hand to him. “Anders, by the way.”

Anton quickly grabbed the man’s hand and shook it, didn’t want to seem rude by ignoring it.

“Anton.” He said. “Good to meet you, Anders.”

The old man named Anders smiled and nodded. “Give my best to your brother, won’t you?”

Anton blurted out a short “sure” before letting go of the man’s hand. He hurriedly placed the plate on the counter and said goodbye and thank you to the little woman before exiting. Once outside again, the coolness of the night hit him like a brick wall, and he zipped up his jacket to stay warm.

He started walking again, heading home down the usual streets. Whoever that Anders was, he seemed like a nice guy. A little lonely, perhaps, needed someone to talk to. Anton didn’t mind, really, but he wasn’t too fond of talking about his brother.

The truth was, the leather jacket hadn’t been a gift at all. More of a memento, in a way. One day he just decided to get it out of its old box and wear it. It still smelled like his brother, still felt like his brother, like some part of him was still left in the fabric. Anton never washed it, never cleaner it, for fear of erasing that tiny fragment of his brother.

Five years ago, he had vanished without a trace. One day he was there, and the other, he was gone. Not a trace, no clue as to where he went. He left his keys and cellphone at home, even his shoes. It was like he just evaporated into thin air.

Anton never got over it. He missed his brother every day, and refused to give up hope. He kept all of his personal belongings safely packed away, ready for the day he returned. He was hoping that one day, he would just be standing there at his doorstep, like nothing had ever happened, like everything was fine.

Yet the box remained in his closet, in a corner, alone. No one had come to open it, no brother there to reclaim what was his. Five years, and still not a word from him. His parents gave up, his friends gave up, and the police gave up as well.

Mattias Svanström was pronounced dead on the 21st of June 2016, leaving his mother Cecilia, his father Markus and Anton without an answer, without closure.

Anton moved away from his parents the next year, and ended up here, in a small apartment in Eskilstuna, far away from his parents back in Stockholm. In truth, he couldn’t stand them anymore, and wanted away from them. He couldn’t stand the fact that they had stopped trying, that they just accepted Mattias as dead and buried. He would never accept it. Never.

Then he met Jennifer, they moved in together and he was happy again. For a while, he even forgot about Mattias and managed to live a somewhat normal life with Jennifer. Everything was fine in the beginning, and then everything went down the crapper, fast.

Jennifer started drinking. When he tried to stop her, she would lash out at him and call him every name in the book. He lost count of how many times he had to physically restrain her when she came home at five in the morning, drunk and angry.

Once, he loved her. At one point, he wanted to live with her for the rest of his life. But the alcohol quickly washed those dreams away, and their life spiraled into nothing but fighting, arguing and tears. Yet he never left her, because he had nowhere to go, and she never left him for the same reason. Both of them where stuck in their own life, had nowhere to go and no one else to turn to. And so they remained in their broken relationship, too afraid to end it.

Anton stopped in front of a narrow alleyway, without even knowing why. For some reason, he felt like he had to stop there, as crazy as it sounded to him. He looked down the dark street, seeing nothing out of the ordinary, nothing special that would warrant him to stay here. Yet he couldn’t tear himself away from there, he couldn’t move.

He had to go down there. He had no idea why, but he just had to.

Slowly, Anton turned his feet and started off down the narrow street. The walls of the buildings came close, shutting out any other sound other than his cowboy boots against the concrete. He looked around to see anything out of the ordinary, but saw nothing.

Then suddenly, he heard a noise. A strange noise, one he’d never heard before, like roaring fire and sparks of electricity at the same time. It didn’t sound natural, and he figured it be best to get out of there. The next second, he heard someone shout.

“Stop! Stop, or I’ll shoot!”

The voice came from somewhere nearby, and Anton instantly remembered the police car that had passed him earlier. Whatever was going on here, he shouldn’t be here, and he tried to turn around and run, but something inside of him told him to stop and wait, just in case.

He gasped in awe as the strange sound became louder, and a bright red light suddenly illuminated the sky just a little while away. He heard more shouting, followed by what he thought was gun shots. Finally he moved thinking this was why he had stopped here, that this was his reason for being here, to help. He ran off down the alleyway towards the red light.

When he rounded a corner, the light had died down, but he knew for sure that it had come from this spot, right here around the corner. The first thing he saw was a policeman on the ground, still clutching the handgun in his hand.

Anton hurried to his aid, but wasn’t sure what to do. He put his ear against the man’s back to listen for a heartbeat, but he heard nothing. Quickly he placed his fingers on the man’s neck, and to his relief, he felt a pulse. Albeit a weak one, but still a pulse, beating away slowly.

He reached into the pocket of his jacket to fish up his phone, but found his pockets to be empty. Anton cursed himself for forgetting his cell phone this one time when he needed it. Instead, he looked at the man’s belt, hoping there would be a radio or something he could use, get help with. He found it, and ripped it off of the policeman’s belt.

“Hallå?!” He pressed the button down. “Hello! I need help, I’ve found an injured man here, help!”

Nothing but static came out of the radio. The damn thing was busted and broken.

“Jävla skit!” Anton cursed again and tossed the radio to the side in anger. Instead, he tried to roll the man over on his side and placed him in the emergency position he’d learned way back in school. He didn’t know what the hell else he could do. He had to get help, but he didn’t want to leave the guy here, because whoever did this might come back any minute to finish the job.

“Anton…”

Anton jumped out of his skin when he heard someone speak his name. Slowly, he turned his head to where he thought the voice came from, and instantly froze in his spot.

A man was standing down the alleyway, looking at him. A tall man, dressed in some sort of trench coat and hoodie, like a robe or cloak. Slowly, the man moved towards him.

“Anton!”

The man reached his arms out in mid-air, like he was about to grab him, even though he was several meters away. Anton got up on his feet, unsure if he should run away or try to fight. But the decision was made for him when a sudden, splitting headache roared through his skull.

Anton screamed in pain and clutched his head, falling to his knees as they gave way underneath him. He started crying, and fell on his side on the concrete street, still screaming, holding his head hard. The pain was too great, he couldn’t take it, he was about to go insane.

The cloaked man came closer, but not all the way up to him. He still had his arm reached out against him, and Anton was sure he saw long claws at the end of each finger. As the man came closer, Anton caught a glimpse of the face hidden behind his hood, and suddenly, everything stopped. The pain stopped as he looked at the man, eyes wide open from both fear and confusion.

He recognized the chin covered in blonde beard, and he recognized the pursed mouth, the sharp nose, and the eyes.

“M-Mattias-?”

Everything around him was engulfed in a red glow, and Anton couldn’t do anything but scream as he felt the world twist and bend around him.