He was lucky. He was just lucky and the bullet didn’t hit his brain, but only left a dent that shrank to the size of a barrel, and a blind eye. That’s what the doctor said.

On the very first day after discharge, when he and his belongings were transported from Norway to his native Sweden, Pelle sketched what he saw in the mirror on the closet—that very “hole.”

And now, being at home, lying on his bed as a corpse, he heard his parents swearing at his younger sister.