When I Wake Up

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by Jessica Jarlvi




  WHEN I WAKE UP

  Jessica Jarlvi

  Start Reading

  About this Book

  About the Author

  Table of Contents

  www.ariafiction.com

  About When I Wake Up

  ‘Why won’t Mummy wake up?’

  When Anna, a much-loved teacher and mother of two, is left savagely beaten and in a coma, a police investigation is launched. News of the attack sends shock waves through her family and their small Swedish community. Anna seems to have had no enemies, so who wanted her dead?

  As loved-ones wait anxiously by her bedside, her husband Erik is determined to get to the bottom of the attack, and soon begins uncovering his wife’s secret life, and a small town riven with desire, betrayal and jealousy.

  As the list of suspects grows longer, it soon becomes clear that only one person can reveal the truth, and she’s lying silent in a hospital bed…

  Contents

  Welcome Page

  About When I Wake Up

  Dedication

  Part One

  Chapter 1 – Erik

  Chapter 2 – Anna

  Chapter 3 – Erik

  Chapter 4 – Iris

  Chapter 5 – Anna

  Chapter 6 – Erik

  Chapter 7 – Anna

  Chapter 8 – Daniel

  Chapter 9 – Iris

  Chapter 10 – Erik

  Chapter 11 – Anna

  Chapter 12 – Iris

  Chapter 13 – Anna

  Chapter 14 – Erik

  Chapter 15 – Iris

  Chapter 16 – Daniel

  Chapter 17 – Anna

  Chapter 18 – Erik

  Chapter 19 – Iris

  Chapter 20 – Daniel

  Chapter 21 – Anna

  Chapter 22 – Iris

  Chapter 23 – Erik

  Part Two

  Chapter 24 – Rolf

  Chapter 25 – Anna

  Chapter 26 – Iris

  Chapter 27 – Erik

  Chapter 28 – Daniel

  Chapter 29 – Iris

  Chapter 30 – Erik

  Chapter 31 – Rolf

  Chapter 32 – Erik

  Chapter 33 – Anna

  Chapter 34 – Rolf

  Chapter 35 – Anna

  Chapter 36 – Iris

  Chapter 37 – Daniel

  Chapter 38 – Anna

  Chapter 39 – Rolf

  Chapter 40 – Daniel

  Chapter 41 – Erik

  Part Three

  Chapter 42 – Rolf

  Chapter 43 – Anna

  Chapter 44 – Iris

  Chapter 45 – Anna

  Chapter 46 – Rolf

  Chapter 47 – Daniel

  Chapter 48 – Anna

  Chapter 49 – Iris

  Chapter 50 – Anna

  Chapter 51 – Erik

  Chapter 52 – Erik

  Chapter 53 – Rolf

  Chapter 54 – Daniel

  Chapter 55 – Erik

  Part Four

  Chapter 56 – Anna

  Chapter 57 – Erik

  Chapter 58 – Rolf

  Chapter 59 – Erik

  Chapter 60 – Daniel

  Chapter 61 – Rolf

  Chapter 62 – Anna

  Chapter 63 – Iris

  Chapter 64 – Rolf

  Part Five

  Chapter 65 – Erik

  Chapter 66 – Daniel

  Chapter 67 – Iris

  Chapter 68 – Daniel

  Chapter 69 – Erik

  Chapter 70 – Iris

  Chapter 71 – Rolf

  Chapter 72 – Erik

  Chapter 73 – Iris

  Chapter 74 – Daniel

  Chapter 75 – Erik

  Chapter 76 – Daniel

  Chapter 77 – Rolf

  Chapter 78 – Erik

  Chapter 79 – Anna

  Chapter 80 – Iris

  Chapter 81 – Anna

  Chapter 82 – Erik

  Chapter 83 – Daniel

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  About Jessica Jarlvi

  Become an Aria Addict

  Copyright

  To Mark, Julia, Leo and Max

  for your love and support, always

  She staggers backwards, her back ramming into the car door. There is no sense of time. Instinctively, she puts her hand to her head. There’s blood on her fingers. She stares at the dripping redness, amazed. Bewildered she looks around. Did anyone see?

  She’s about to speak when another blow strikes her head. Her back bangs into the door again and this time she falls over. She immediately tries to get back up but a boot explodes into her stomach and she screams, or at least she thinks she does; nothing comes out as she gasps.

  She feels dizzy, her eyes won’t focus; they’re getting increasingly damp and sticky and she wipes them, only to see her hands covered in even more red. It looks like paint. Another boot and it sounds like something breaks. She hopes it’s a tree branch and not her ribs but the agony is unbearable. Despite the pain, she clambers to her hands and knees. A blur of movement and her head smashes against cold metal.

  Then everything turns eerily quiet.

  Part One

  Chapter 1 – Erik

  March 2016

  Teacher of the Year brutally attacked in school parking lot.

  Life-threatening injuries… coma.

  No eyewitnesses.

  Erik tries to make sense of the words in the newspaper. They read like badly written lyrics. He’s holding Anna’s bruised hand; her fingernails are raw and scraped for evidence. He feels sick, emptied of emotion; he stares at his wife, he stares at the white walls.

  Then a rainbow of colours. Her wedding ring catches the sunlight, cascading beams of light across the dull room, and he’s reminded of the beginning, seven years earlier, when he sold a collection of records to pay for the diamond. Her calm, grounded and responsible nature made him feel loved.

  He needs to hang onto that feeling. The beginning. Not the end. Not even the in-between when life rushed past and he sometimes struggled to remember why they were married.

  “There was still cash in her purse,” the police say. “Money isn’t a likely motive.”

  “Of course not,” Erik says. “We live a modest life.”

  He’s not sure if this adds value even if it’s true. They live in a small, white-brick house from the sixties and share a second-hand Volvo V70. They bought the station wagon when they left Stockholm for the southern countryside with its widespread, yellow colza fields. Anna had just accepted a job at a local school. He was between assignments and followed her lead. That’s when her career started to dictate their lives. The students became her life and he was left to create his own.

  The words ‘rape kit’ bounce harshly against the sterile walls. He switches off, stares at Anna instead, trying to read her: why did this happen to us?

  Her body is heavy on the white bedding, the long dark hair arranged in a neat ponytail. He feels an urge to pull it out, to make it messy. They’ve made her look different.

  If he squints, she could be someone else. Half her face is dark red, almost purple, her right eye swollen, reflecting the attacker’s anger. His insides tighten.

  “Her head injuries are consistent with the damage on the car door.”

  “So it could have been an accident?”

  “Not likely. Her ribs are bruised, her right arm broken, the head… it hasn’t just hit the car door once… sorry… we understand you need time.”

  “For what?” he says. To cope? To grieve? To hope? What is it that they want from him? He looks around the room, bewildered. There’s no one there to respond to.
Just Anna. They’ve left him alone.

  The respirator next to her bed dominates, its overwhelming sound filling the room, reminding him that her chest is no longer rising on its own. Oxygen flows through a mask. As if she’s in the sea, deep under water.

  They did a test dive on their honeymoon in the Maldives; she wanted to become a certified diver but then the twins were born. He imagines the machine next to her bed as a gas cylinder and the tube a diving regulator. Her head could be filled with the colours of the ocean. In her dream-like state she might be happy.

  Tears form in the corners of his eyes, one by one. Blurring.

  The doctors haven’t told him much. Or maybe he didn’t listen properly. He finds the whole hospital machine intimidating: the overwhelming smell of disinfectant, the physicians in their unbuttoned, sloppy white coats, the nurses annoyingly officious. There is this unspoken requirement of him to behave a certain way but he has no idea how to conduct himself. This is not something you can prepare for.

  He is immature. Anna has always said so and she’s been right. When they first started dating, she found his juvenile nature endearing. “You can get away with anything,” she would laugh. Although her patience seemed to diminish as time went on.

  He blames her bloody job. Being a teacher is a calling for her. She is consumed by her students – people she isn’t even related to!

  Now he must nod and say ‘yes, she’s a great teacher’ even though he secretly thinks she should have been a better mum. Then she would have been at home.

  He keeps it to himself, must act maturely.

  There’s a monitor next to her bed that measures her heart rate, her vitals; a reminder that she is alive… just. A flick of the switch and the machines go quiet; her chest won’t rise again. It feels like a threat, like he’s God.

  A vibration in his pocket and he pulls out his phone.

  WhatsApp now

  Pernilla Arvidsson: How are you doing? Thinking of you… Sebastian and Lukas can stay late if needed. Hugs

  His heart jolts. He’s forgotten to pick up the children from day care. They don’t know about the attack. Only that mummy is sick.

  He writes a response.

  Thanks. Thinking of you too.

  He stares at the screen. Yesterday he would have clicked ‘Send’ without much thought. Now it feels inappropriate. He retypes it.

  Thanks. See you.

  *

  “Erik?”

  His mum is at the door. At the sight of her, the tears start to fall more heavily until he breaks down completely. The chair shakes under his unstable frame.

  “Oh, Erik.” She hugs him tightly.

  Tears and snot run into a singular stream but he doesn’t care.

  “Any improvement?”

  He shakes his head. Mum’s eyes are teary when she hands him a bag but she doesn’t cry. She always remains strong and calm.

  “Clothes,” she explains. “I’ll get the boys.”

  He wishes she would scream instead of being so organised and practical. That at least someone would react. Everyone is too peaceful; they speak in monotonous, slow voices, as if he’s retarded. The doctors, the nurse, the police. Has the world not stopped while his wife fights for her life? It feels like it should.

  “I agreed with the teacher that we would keep their routine normal,” Mum continues. “Is her name Pernilla?”

  He nods and wipes his face with the back of his sleeve. Anna would have hated that. He smiles faintly. If she wakes up, he’s going to be the husband she deserves.

  Chapter 2 – Anna

  September 2015

  “Erik collecting the boys?” Kent asked, handing Anna a cup of coffee.

  She looked up from the paperwork, happy for the interruption.

  “Yes, I’m marking exam papers.”

  It was a cold and bleak afternoon; autumn was on the doorstep with woolly cardigans making an appearance in the teacher’s lounge. She wrapped her fingers tightly around the hot cup.

  “How’s it going with the new student, Daniel?” Kent made himself comfortable on the corduroy couch next to her desk. “Is he still testing the limits?”

  She shrugged. “Basically, yes. I’ve tried reaching out to the parents but there seem to be a number of problems at home.”

  ”What about the school counsellor?”

  “He won’t talk to ‘a shrink’. His words, not mine. I’ve explained that it’s confidential but he doesn’t buy it. He’s very private, on edge, you know.”

  Living in a small town did make it harder for people to open up. Students and parents were often worried that everyone would know their business.

  Kent sipped his coffee, nodding. “Should we involve social services?” he asked.

  She smiled at him, relaxing her shoulders from the stressful day; she loved that he cared, not just about his own students but also about hers. Their friendship kept her coming back to this school every year.

  “I’m not sure,” she said.

  “Anna, you can’t save every child on your own.”

  “I know,” she said defensively. “I’ll think about it. I don’t want to cause him more harm. He’s obviously just trying to get attention.”

  “Causing fights will definitely achieve that.”

  “That’s why I need to find a way to reach out to him.”

  She wanted to tell him about the letters Daniel had written to her but she couldn’t. Kent would worry, and although it wasn’t her job to protect him, she was determined to deal with this on her own.

  She had received the first letter in August, when school started after the summer break. As was always the case with new pupils, she had secretly hoped for a studious and conscientious addition, although this had quickly turned out to be a fantasy.

  I hate school and I know I’m going to hate you. People like you think you rule over me, but you don’t. No one does. If you understand that, we have no problems. If you don’t… you’ll see what will happen.

  At first she had felt threatened. Scared even. Then she had taken a step back and viewed it from a different angle. After all, it was ridiculous to be intimidated by a seventeen-year-old. She was nearly twice his age. He was simply reaching out to her. That’s what her years of experience told her, that it was a cry for help.

  The next letter had been similar in nature but then they had become milder.

  I hate you. You think I can’t read. That’s why you don’t write back. You think I’m stupid?

  He wanted her to reply. So far she hadn’t. Was it ethically correct to correspond with a student in this way? Didn’t it mean she was showing favouritism? She wanted to ask Kent’s advice but she had a feeling he would object to any written communication with a student.

  “His writing is good,” she said. “Above average actually.”

  “Well, at least that’s something.” He looked tired. The stress of the new school system was getting to him. ‘Good thing I’m retiring soon’ he would say. “Let me know if I can help in any way.”

  “I will,” she said.

  She had fancied Kent once. Even though he was much older and his khaki trousers and check shirts weren’t obviously sexy, his clear blue eyes had made something stir in her. He was an attentive listener, unlike Erik, who had the attention span of a two-year-old.

  “You’re very ambitious and extremely caring,” Kent said, tilting his head. “I admire that, but there’s a life outside of this school as well. Don’t let the students get to you.”

  They exchanged a knowing glance. He knew that her troubled students reminded her of her own upbringing.

  “I know,” she said.

  “Anyway, I have to go,” Kent said and got up. “Taking Märta to the cinema.”

  She watched him leave, feeling an unexpected surge of jealousy. It wasn’t Märta, a fifty-three-year-old accountant who dressed like a seventy-year-old; it was the feeling of being cherished the way she was. Kent adored her.

  Sighing, she leaned back in her
chair. It was half-past five. Outside the window, birch trees were bending in the strong wind, the sky thick with clouds. Sebastian and Lukas would be inside, eating dinner. She picked up the phone to call them but decided against it. They would be busy telling Erik about their day. The thought made her smile. She needed to focus on the two wonderful boys they had given life to. Somewhere, there was a video of the twins as babies, highlighting the joyous moments as opposed to the sleepless nights and arguments about whose time it was to load the washing machine. She should watch it to revel in the smiles and snuggles. Her boys made her happy, and Erik had too. To bring her back to the early days, she often reminisced about his proposal, which had been unexpected and therefore highly romantic: slumped on the couch in pyjamas one evening, he suddenly got down on one knee. No ring, but still.

  After Kent’s exit, other teachers started to leave and soon she was on her own. She welcomed the ensuing silence. Putting the red pen to the paper, she inhaled the serene school air: paper, newly sharpened pencils, old books, cardboard boxes, gingerbread and coffee. She loved the late afternoon and evenings when everyone had left the building.

  “Hi, Anna.”

  The raspy adolescent voice cut through the air. Surprised, she looked up. The doors had automatically locked at five o’clock. But there he was, in his worn-out, small denim jacket, backpack thrown over the shoulder, shoelaces undone.

  “Daniel?”

  Chapter 3 – Erik

  March 2016

  Anna’s parents haven’t visited their daughter in the hospital yet but instead of feeling bitter, Erik is relieved. They would only make the situation worse. Like a drama train they would pull in and off-load their own issues. Erik needs to focus on his own family now, on his children.

  “I think it’s scandalous,” Mum says, and it’s the closest he has seen her to being upset. “She could die, for goodness sake!”

  “It’s a long drive for them,” Erik says.

  He’s in the doorway, taking his jacket off. It’s been a long night, sitting by Anna’s side. This morning he was told to go home, to take a shower and sleep. The nurses promised to call if there were any developments.

 

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