Reflections at Dawn

[a_contemplative_life]

LTROI, both the film and the novel, are told primarily from Oskar's perspective. The novel, especially, focuses on Oskar's inner thoughts and feelings as his love for Eli unfolds and he gradually comes to know and accept her.

Since seeing the film for the first time, I have been intrigued by Eli's complex character, and have thought it unfortunate that more of her inner life is not revealed, or if revealed, is done so only by inference from her words and actions. I thought it would be fun to explore what Eli, as portrayed in the film, may have been thinking during the days from when she first meets Oskar, until they are seen leaving Blackeberg on the train at the end.

Because Eli lives at night, each of her days can be described as two dates, as is done here. The presumptive default for each day is at the end of the day, just before dawn, as she is preparing to go to sleep. The only concrete date given in the film is February 6, 1982, printed on the newspaper reporting on the death of Håkan's first victim in Vällingby, and it is from that reference that her story is told. Enjoy! . . . and please feel free to leave comments or suggestions.

Disclaimer:
The following is adapted from the novel Let the Right One In by John A. Linqvist and the film bearing the same name. The characters in this work are those of Mr. Linqvist and no copyright protection is asserted to this work.

~ For Eli ~

February 3 – 4, 1982

Time now to rest. In my new place--Blackeberg. Not bad; I think we will blend in okay. Not much time tonight to look around . . . will do more of that tomorrow night.

At least Håkan is not complaining. Not that he could anyway . . . his fault we had to move. I liked Växjö. The flat there was good. But after what he did—just not safe anymore.

Ha. Safe: an illusion. I'll never be safe anywhere. Especially not now, when I feel so . . . small, so weak. I wish Håkan could understand how it feels. Then maybe he would be more willing to help me. Instead of arguing all the time. I tell him and tell him: there is no other way. He should know I wouldn’t ask him if there was.

He says I don’t love him, but he’s wrong. I do love him, really, I think. Because he helps me. And I know in his own way, he is very devoted. But I’m not sure what he sees in me. It’s wrong, somehow, the way he does it—like he’s eating me with his eyes. He looks at me, but not in me. I think that’s really the problem.

What am I going to do? He wasn’t very good at this to begin with; now, it’s getting worse. First Norrköping, then Växjö. (frowns) I hate doing that for him--but do I have a choice? What will he ask me to do next?

Wish I'd brought that extra blanket in here. Should I get up and get it? No, probably still in a box somewhere . . . too tired now. Have . . . Bunny . . .

February 4 – 5, 1982

Tired; must rest. So hungry. Another night with nothing to eat.

Håkan has me over a barrel and he knows it. Waiting for me? -outside the shower so he could see me. So he could stare at me. Asking me to turn around for him; do a little pirouette. And of course, I did it. And gave in when he asked me for “one night.” But he agreed to try again, and that’s the important thing. That’s all I care about right now. Because I’m badly out of balance and I can’t go much longer with nothing. If I do, then even Håkan will be in danger. Maybe he knows that.

(purses lips) I wonder what he would do with me if I was weaker than him? If I really was only 12?

Hardly got out tonight like I wanted. Don’t know if I like the layout of this apartment complex. Going in and out the door and everyone can see you. Of course, I can see, too. Like tonight, that funny little boy at his window. Right next door. What was he doing, standing there in his underwear?

. . . so tired

(grows sleepy)

can I remember Mama and Papa must try must try

February 5 – 6, 1982

(frowning deeply) Almost killed Håkan tonight. Maybe I should have.

(just sat there with that stupid face all he could say was förlåt)

I can’t believe it. Just moved here and already things have gone badly. He says no one saw him—I hope he’s right! Interrupted by a dog and forgot the blood? How could he forget that? Now that kid is dead and for no good reason. If he had brought it home, it . . . it would be for a good—

--I must have it to live. Does that make it good?

. . . (Who are you? . . . I don't know.)

(rolls onto back and stares at blanket hanging over face) Maybe it would better if I just . . . ended it. Then no one would suffer. I could just be gone, Håkan would be free of me, wouldn’t have to kill for me. He would be happier. And I wouldn’t have to worry about killing any more.

But where will I go when I die? Mama believed in Heaven. Could I see her? If I said a prayer right before I did it . . . could I?

Stupid. If there is a heaven, there must be a hell. To think one prayer would make up for everything. Can’t think about this. I know where I'd go.

. . .

. . . (turns back over and closes eyes)

(What are you doing? Nothing.)

That boy was outside tonight. What was he doing to that tree? And what was he saying? “What are you looking at? Are you staring at me? So scream! Squeal!” Pretending he was stabbing someone. Must be someone he hates a lot.

Well, I told him: warned him that we can’t be friends. He should stay away from me right now. Too bad . . . he doesn’t really look like a bad person, even standing there with that knife. Reminds me of . . . someone--

--long time . . . ago—

[genie47]

Question: Why is he in his undies?

Answer: No self respecting boy especially at 12 years old onwards will be caught wearing pyjamas to sleep unless he predicts a fire to take place in that house he sleeps in.

[a_contemplative_life]

February 6 – 7, 1982

Made the news. Håkan made the news, I guess. We both read the stories.

(trussed that poor boy up like a pig)

. . . (shakes head) How he behaved tonight--acted like a scolded dog. Tried to stay away from me, holed up in his room, mostly. I knew what was on his mind. What I’d promised: had he "earned" it?

I wanted to ignore him. Tried for awhile, to be truthful. But then . . . because I do need him, especially right now. What if he just left in the middle of the day or something? Walked out, left the door open? Because he’s unhappy and can’t take this any more? So . . . I went in there.

That look on his face when he watched me strip. He even lit a candle. Was that his idea of . . . of romance? To set the mood—for what? For us, or—

No. Not for us, for him. It’s all about him. Even when I'm with him, I'm alone.

. . .

Tried to close my eyes for most of it. Better just to . . . endure his hands, than see his face while he--

(crying)

what would Papa think of me if he had seen me

if only I could remember your face Papa I love you please forgive me

[a_contemplative_life]

February 7 – 8, 1982

I don’t know how to feel right now.

At last I’m full. That man was big--must’ve been drunk, too, seeing how I felt afterwards. A little woozy.

(crosses ankles and rubs feet together) He was so kind . . . trying to help me. “I’ll carry you, and take you to a phone.” I knew the person would be nice—I guess that was part of the plan, wasn’t it? Because only someone like that would care to get close enough to me. Pick me up.

But what choice did I have? I had to eat. I couldn’t have gone much longer--it had been more than a week.

It’s always the same thing. The same cycle. Over and over again I must do this. The hunger takes over and I become . . . another person. And I harden my heart and do it.

. . .

I hope he didn’t hurt too much

(at least Håkan's was unconscious)

or have any children--maybe grandchildren, at his age.

(saw no wedding ring or any jewelry)

I don’t know who you were, but—I’m sorry. Sorry for

(teeth deep in his throat his ribs cracking the blood was good, so good)

what I did.

. . .

. . . Håkan was angry with me. What did he expect? --something had to be done. And he couldn’t complain about having to help afterwards. After all, he got what he wanted, and I had to go out and do it myself anyway.

That was strange--when I went out into the courtyard before I . . . before the underpass. That boy, out there again by himself. Playing with that puz—Rubik’s Cube, he calls it? In the cold. Does he always sit out there like that? Or . . .

Hmmm.

I was so hungry. Told him I just wanted to be alone so he’d go away. But he wouldn’t leave. Gave me that “I’ve lived here longer than you” line. As if he owned the place. If he had only known who I am; what I’m capable of--

(bone and gristle popped when I snapped that guy's head around like a twig--)

As it was, I had a hard time controlling myself.

But I guess I’m glad he didn’t go away, really. I did like his puzzle. Felt stupid that I didn’t know what it was, but . . . he was nice to loan it to me.

(eyes unfocus) His face . . . he’s so fair-skinned. Bright-eyed, too. I like that. Seems pretty smart.

(how could I spend more time with him)

. . .

What was that other thing he said? Ah . . . telling me I “smell funny.” Huh. (smiles) If he were me, he’d understand. But now that I’m not so hungry, I guess I could . . . do better. Maybe I will, if I . . .

I hope he finds his Cube where I left it. It took me awhile, but I figured it out.

(for him)

Maybe—

--maybe something . . . new . . .

. . .

met two kind people tonight why did one of them have to die

[a_contemplative_life]

February 8 – 9, 1982

His name is Oskar.

“Oskar.” I like it.

(turns restlessly) I don’t want to go to sleep. I wish so much that I could stay awake . . . I hate being in this tub right now, under these blankets. Usually it makes me feel safe. But sometimes I feel--

(buried)

. . .

(chuckles) . . . He sure was excited. That his Cube was solved. And what a smile. He’s so . . . open? Natural? It’s all right there to see. Innocent. Yes, that’s it exactly. He doesn’t hide anything.

Sure was fun to work on the puzzle with him. I hope I helped him figure out how to do it. Did he like how I dressed? . . . At least he couldn’t say I stank.

(traces random patterns on inside of tub with finger)

I wonder if he’d like to see some of my puzzles? (the egg) But he’d be here—and Håkan . . . how would he react? He didn’t like it when I brought the Cube home in the first place. I don’t think he’d want that boy—Oskar—he wouldn’t want Oskar over here.

I’m not sure Oskar should meet Håkan, either. Yes, we’d say . . . we'd say he was my father or something like that, but he might . . . sense something’s not right.

Well, I can still see Oskar outside. Sure wish I could be awake during the day.

. . .

(sniffs) What did the last sunrise I saw look like? Can’t remember.

. . .

(turns over)

So sweet of him . . . to worry about my birthday. To give me his Cube. I should have made up a birthday. Then, maybe . . . then he wouldn’t have thought I’m so weird. But I'd already told him I don’t get cold. So—

How do I tell him . . . how can I tell him anything about myself?

(that I drink blood)

If I can’t even honestly tell him how old I am without him wondering . . . . Well--

(Hugs Bunny)

Hope he is out again tomorrow night.

[a_contemplative_life]

February 9 – 10, 1982

(taps on tub) “... .-- . . - -.. .-. . .- -- ...”

(smiles delightedly) Funny. He doesn’t know when I’m awake; thought I was going to bed like him.

So I said: “Y-O-U T-O-O.”

"Morse Code" . . . what a great idea. I knew he was smart—and fun, too. I wonder if he’s memorized it yet?

. . .

(Come on. Come on.)

. . . Playing tag in the snow. When was the last time I did that? (smiles) He wasn't as fast as he thought.

(sheepishly) Was tempted to fly, but . . . not a good idea. (yet)

I haven’t felt this way in . . . can’t remember.

(rolls onto stomach)

Found out a lot more about Oskar tonight, though. That mark on his face—now I understand the thing with the knife. Who could’ve done that to him? I wonder how many times it’s happened before. And he’s never fought back, or even told anyone. Why not?

. . . He seems so vulnerable.

I promised him I’d help. Didn’t really think about that first, but . . . how could I not protect him? So, so wish I could be awake during the day. I’d go to school with him, be there when those classmates tried something. They’d think I was “just a girl.” But I’m not--and I’d teach them a thing or two.

(sighs) But it would never happen. Unless they did something at night . . .

(turns and pulls blanket up to neck)

Does he want me to help? Not sure how he feels about that. But I would anyway, if I could. I wouldn’t be able to stop myself. Because he is—special. Very special. Unlike anyone I’ve met for

(You can have this . . . if you want) . . . I don’t know how long. Forever.

I liked touching his hand. Did he?

(probably not I'm too cold)

If he wants to talk through the wall, then that must mean that—maybe he likes me, too. Maybe.

But where is this going? Talked about it with Håkan tonight. After I asked him to move out of his room so I could tap, which he wasn’t happy about. (grins impishly) Håkan said he’s concerned about me seeing Oskar. He thinks Oskar could be dangerous to us. I’m not sure—I think maybe he’s just jealous. Jealous. Of what? That I’m playing with a kid?

(frowns) But maybe he’s right. Because . . . I don’t want to . . . to be just friends with Oskar. Well, maybe that’s really it, actually. Friendship. Someone I can talk with, someone who’ll listen to me, who I can explain things to--like, who I am. Isn’t that what friends do?

(you could never explain what you are to him)

But when do friends become . . . something else? Something more? And if—if I do tell Oskar who I really am, he really could be a danger, like Håkan says. Because I could never hurt him. But he might reject me, and tell someone. And then . . . I could get killed.

So maybe I should just forget about Oskar. (no) It’s not too late to do that. I could find ways to avoid him when I go out. I could . . . ignore his tapping

(no I couldn't)

and eventually he’d go away, lose interest. Then I’d be safe again.

(and alone)

Well, I'd still have Håkan.

Don’t know what to do.

Must rest. Getting hungry again.

[gary13136]

So far, this is the best Oskar and Eli fan fiction I've read.

[a_contemplative_life]

February 10 – 11, 1982

There’s no way I’m giving up on Oskar. Not after tonight. (behind that kiosk) I don’t care what Håkan says, even if he may be right.

(happily) He hugged me. Not just my body, like Håkan--me. That’s a first. I would eat a thousand pieces of candy to be held like that again. I would . . . die to be held like that again.

(sighs) Can’t stop thinking about that. Don’t want to stop thinking about it, or to ever forget it, as long as I live. He cares about me!

(smiles) He’s so different from anyone I’ve met. To say that he wouldn’t care if I wasn’t a girl--is it just because he is a kid that he could say that, a kid at heart? Not like me--I just look like a kid, I guess. Maybe I just haven’t been around kids very much for a long, long time. They can be very accepting, I suppose.

. . . Wish I could just be a kid. Ha. Funny. Never seen a mummy in diapers.

(turns onto side, crosses arms over chest)

(I can . . . try one.)

So kind of him to share his candy with me. When I saw that downcast look in his eyes, I just had to do it. He was so looking forward to me enjoying it with him--I couldn’t disappoint him. Actually thought for a moment that I might be able to handle it. That maybe just once, God or whoever is in charge would give me a little break, let me do something simple--something normal, like everyone else.

But I guess now, I guess that it was good that I couldn’t really eat it. Didn’t want him to watch me throw up, but what else could I do? And then he—

(Oskar . . . do you like me? . . . Yeah—a lot.)

I’m so . . . happy.

But—

(no no don’t remember that)

I don’t want to but it’s true

(not true not true I would never do that)

You know you thought of it. When his arms were around you and his neck was right there you smelled his blood you know you did, you did

(But I controlled it. I denied it, for once. A small victory for me, dammit. The hell with everything else, I don’t care about the rest of this miserable life but I’ll never, EVER do that to him, I swear it.)

. . .

(squeezes Bunny and cries)

Dear God . . . give me some dignity Please oh please

[drakkar]

February 7 – 8, 1982


That was strange--when I went out into the courtyard before the underpass. That boy, out there again by himself. Playing with that puz—Rubik’s Cube, he calls it? In the cold. Does he always sit out there like that? Or . . .

Hmmm.

I was so hungry. Told him I just wanted to be alone so he’d go away. But he wouldn’t leave. Gave me that “I’ve lived here longer than you” line. As if he owned the place. If he had only known who I am; what I’m capable of. As it was, I had a hard time containing myself.

But I guess I’m glad he didn’t go away, really. I did like that thing he had—felt stupid that I didn’t know what it was, but . . . he was nice to loan it to me.

His face . . . he’s so fair-skinned. Bright-eyed, too. I like that. Seems pretty smart.

. . .

What was that other thing he said? Ah . . . telling me I “smell funny.” If he were me, he’d understand. But now that I’m not so hungry, I guess I could . . . do better. Maybe I will, if I . . .

I hope he finds his cube where I left it. It took me awhile, but I figured it out.

For him.

Maybe—

--maybe something . . . new . . .

. . .

met two kind people tonight why did one of them have to die

I've sometimes wondered if Eli was considering to turn on Oskar that evening, for example if the jungle gym had been in a more remote place. She was weak and Oskar was of conveniant size, and she also knew about him from the first meeting.
To me, the moment when she is offered the cube, and - after hesitating - accepts it, is one of the turning points in the film. Eli now regards Oskar as more than just a blood tank.

[gareth1971]

This is turning into something really awesome...