Bunker Read Online Free PDF

chair. I go to the kitchen counter with its row of appliances, open the fridge door, bend down, take out the bottle of milk I opened yesterday. I get a glass out of the wall cupboard, put the glass and the bottle on the table, sit down on the chair. Take my shoes off and leave them under the table. I take the bottle and pour cold milk into the glass, putting the milk backon the table. A drop runs down from the top of the bottle over the curve of its side and ends on the table top. I sit there watching the drop. I pick up the glass, take a sip, raise my head and look out of the window
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    From where I’m sitting I can see into the building opposite. Light after light is switched on. Window after window is lit up. The light goes on in the apartment in front of me as well. Always at the same time every day. There are no curtains at the windows. I see straight into the bedroom. The woman is moving about there, wearing the long T-shirt that just covers her bum. She disappears. The light goes on in the next room. I can see into her kitchen. Her cat jumps up on the window sill, stretches and lies lazily down. She comes over and strokes the cat. Moves away from the window, comes back a little later with a cup. She puts the cup on the table and sits down. My eyes follow her, follow every movement she makes. She picks up the cup, drinks, puts it down again. She reads the newspaper, drinks without looking up. The cat on the window sill gets up, stretches, and jumps lazily over to the table, gets her to pet it and disappears from my field of vision. The woman stands up too, takes the cup, puts it on the work surface behind her and leaves the room. I stay where I am, drinking milk and looking at the window, waiting. After a few minutes I see her again, back in the bedroom this time. She is naked, with a towelwrapped around her hair. She crosses the room to the wardrobe, opens it. Now the wardrobe door hides my view of her; I can’t see her again until she’s dressed. She is wearing a skirt and her white blouse. She closes the wardrobe, looks around her, turns off the light and leaves the room
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    I stand up as well, go to my bedroom and throw myself on the bed
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    I lie there, holding the pillow clasped to me, eyes closed. Thinking of the woman in the apartment opposite. Of her naked body, the way she walks through the room as if in slow motion. I think of her like I do every day
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I open my eyes. Sit up in the bed, look round the room. No one there. I let myself drop back and stare at the ceiling.
    Nothing’s changed. I’m still lying on the bed naked, covered only with a thin quilt, imprisoned in a small room in a dilapidated, deserted wooden house in the middle of the forest. I’ve no idea why I’m here. What does that guy want? I must do something, anything, or I’ll go out of my mind. I must get out of here! Come on, do something! Get up, get dressed, try to escape, it must be possible. Pull yourself together, get out of this place. I get off the bed and go over to the cupboard. My clothes are in there, like he said. I slip them quickly on, as if someone might be watching. There’s an old shaving mirror hanging from a nail over the chest ofdrawers, a round mirror with a red plastic frame. I look terrible. Face swollen, left eye red and bloodshot, the lower lid’s already starting to turn pale mauve. The mirror, which is almost entirely clouded, makes the rest of my face look even paler in contrast. As I feel my injuries and stare at my face, the right-hand side of the mirror darkens. A head comes into view over my shoulder. His head. His forehead bulges just above his eyes, which are deep-set. His nose is large and hooked, flat at the end. A deep dip in it, so that the end juts like a little triangle. The way that nose looks, he must have broken it at some time. Doesn’t surprise me, a thug like that. Narrow lips above his protruding chin, which has a cleft in it.
    â€˜Hungry?’
    I look