Three Swedish Mountain Men

by Lily Gold

I don’t remember the last time I had a hug. Everyone who used to care about me hates me, now. Even my own parents wouldn’t touch me with a bargepole.

“You’ve never seen a pretty girl you didn’t try to kiss.”

God, this is the life. Fire crackling in the fireplace. Snow falling outside the windows. And a hot man on either side of you, keeping you warm. I could fall asleep right here.

“Why would I be offended?” Having two drop-dead gorgeous men trying to sleep with me is actually doing wonders for my ego.

“Hey. Don’t speak another language when you just screwed me. It’s rude.”

Even though I keep buying more bookshelves, I can never keep up with my book-buying habit. It’s probably a diagnosable addiction at this point.

“How do you know how to get blood out of clothes?” “I do this really odd thing, where I bleed out of my vagina for a week every month? I don’t know why, it’s weird.

“Because we don’t want you here,” I emphasise. “That’s not true. You might hate me, but the others happen to like me.” I laugh. The sound is bitter. “Please. They’re only letting you stay here because they want to sleep with you.”

“I’ve been manipulated by an ex, too. When you love someone that much, they have so much power over your thoughts. They don’t even have to get inside your head; they’re already there.”

“You don’t have to cuddle. Or kiss me. You can just stay.” I grit my teeth and leave.

“I thought it would be something to remember me by, when I’m gone. And a thank you for all of you, for helping me out for so long.”

“Mm. I thought about something a bit more descriptive. Like Three Swedish Mountain Men, or Snowed In, or something. But ‘Home’ felt better.”