The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo by Stieg Larsson
"Mikael and I have fought hard so that we could be completely independent.""Nonsense. No-one is completely independent."
The girl who, two years earlier, was a lively teenager had begun to distance herself from everyone around her. In school she still spent time with her friends, but now she behaved in an "impersonal" manner, as one of her friends described it. This word was unusual enough for Morell to have made a note of it and then ask more questions. The explanation he got was that Harriet had stopped talking about herself, stopped gossiping, and stopped confiding in her friends.
She left middle school and moved to another, without having a single friend to say goodbye to. An unloved girl with odd behaviour.
And you have no idea how mentally handicapped I can be if push comes to shove.
"One more thing." She leaned forward again so that her face was only a couple of inches from his. "If you ever touch me again I will kill you. And that's a promise."Bjurman absolutely believed her. There was not a vestige of bluff in her eyes.
"Keep it in mind that I'm crazy, won't you?"
"Talk about a dysfunctional family," Blomkvist said. "Martin really didn't have a chance."Salander gave him a strange look."What Martin told me-even though it was rambling-was that his father started his apprenticeship after he reached puberty. He was there at the murder of Lea in Uddevalla in 1962. He was fourteen, for God's sake. He was there at the murder of Sara in 1964 and that time he took an active part. He was sixteen.""And?""He said that he had never touched another man-except his father. That made me think that . . . well, the only possible conclusion is that his father raped him. Martin called it 'his duty.' The sexual assaults must have gone on for a long time. He was raised by his father, so to speak.""Bullshit," Salander said, her voice as hard as flint.Blomkvist stared at her in astonishment. She had a stubborn look in her eyes. There was not an ounce of sympathy in it."Martin had exactly the same opportunity as anyone else to strike back. He killed and he raped because he liked doing it.""I'm not saying otherwise. But Martin was a repressed boy and under the influence of his father, just as Gottfried was cowed by his father, the Nazi.""So you're assuming that Martin had no will of his own and that people become whatever they've been brought up to be."Blomkvist smiled cautiously. "Is this a sensitive issue?"Salander's eyes blazed with fury. Blomkvist quickly went on."I'm only saying that I think that a person's upbringing does play a role. Gottfried's father beat him mercilessly for years. That leaves its mark.""Bullshit," Salander said again. "Gottfried isn't the only kid who was ever mistreated. That doesn't give him the right to murder women. He made that choice himself. And the same is true of Martin.""Can we not argue?""I'm not arguing. I just think that it's pathetic that creeps always have to have someone else to blame."
"I don't want to talk about it.""We'll drop it. Are you glad you came back?""I don't know. Maybe it was a mistake.""Lisbeth, can you define the word friendship for me?""It's when you like somebody.""Sure, but what is it that makes you like somebody?"She shrugged."Friendship-my definition-is built on two things," he said. "Respect and trust. Both elements have to be there. And it has to be mutual. You can have respect for someone, but if you don't have trust, the friendship will crumble."She was still silent."I understand that you don't want to discuss yourself with me, but someday you're going to have to decide whether you trust me or not. I want us to be friends, but I can't do it all by myself."
This time she stayed for four weeks. They fell into a routine. They got up at 8:00, ate breakfast, and spent an hour together. Then Mikael worked intently until late in the afternoon, when they took a walk and talked. Salander spent most of the days in bed, either reading books or surfing the Net using Blomkvist's ADSL modem. She tried not to disturb him during the day. They ate dinner rather late and only then did Salander take the initiative and force him up to the sleeping loft, where she saw to it that he devoted all his attention to her.It was as if she were on the very first holiday of her life.
The only thing they never discussed was their relationship to each other. She did not dare, and Blomkvist never broached the subject.At some point on the morning of the second day she came to a terrifying realisation. She had no idea how it had happened or how she was supposed to cope with it. She was in love for the first time in her life.
Then she sat as if paralysed, thinking. She had never in her life felt such a longing. She wanted Mikael Blomkvist to ring the doorbell and . . . what then? Lift her off the ground, hold her in his arms? Passionately take her into the bedroom and tear off her clothes? No, she really just wanted his company. She wanted to hear him say that he liked her for who she was. That she was someone special in his world and in his life. She wanted him to give her some gesture of love, not just of friendship and companionship. I'm flipping out, she thought.She had no faith in herself. Blomkvist lived in a world populated by people with respectable jobs, people with orderly lives and lots of grown-up points. His friends did things, went on TV, and shaped the headlines. What do you need me for? Salander's greatest fear, which was so huge and so black that it was of phobic proportions, was that people would laugh at her feelings. And all of a sudden all her carefully constructed self-confidence seemed to crumble.That's when she made up her mind. It took her several hours to mobilise the necessary courage, but she had to see him and tell him how she felt.Anything else would be unbearable.
At Hornsgatan she happened to glance towards Kaffebar and saw Blomkvist coming out with Berger in tow. He said something, and she laughed, putting her arm around his waist and kissing his cheek. they turned down Brännkyrkagatan in the direction of Bellmansgatan. Their body language left no room for misinterpretations-it was obvious what they had in mind.The pain was so immediate and so fierce that Lisbeth stopped in mid-stride, incapable of movement. part of her wanted to rush after them. She wanted to take the metal sign and use the sharp edge to cleave Berger's head in two. She did nothing as thoughts swirled through her mind. Analysis of consequences. Finally she calmed down."What a pathetic fool you are, Salander," she said out loud.