【短篇】我的自建小屋包裹里自带了一个男人
来自: 削其骨为笛(一位普通的都市丽人)
译者注：
国外居民可以在自家花园里面建小棚屋，一般会选择买好所有材料然后自建，这样更经济一些，也就是文中提到的“自建小屋”。一般包裹寄来的时候，所有的材料都是平铺的，以节省空间：
建好的小屋：
My flat pack shed came with a man inside
作者：newtotownJAM
原文：
I remember the day I picked it up. It was flat packed neatly in a box, with what felt like hundreds of tiny pieces and screws. All fitted together like Tetris.
I’d always wanted a shed. That sounds stupid, I know. But I’d lived in flats for years and now I’d moved I finally had a garden, some outdoor space and place to put a shed.
I wanted to use it as an escape. Not a place for my tools, or for junk that I didn’t want in the house. I wanted a haven that I could spend time in, somewhere I could hide from the world.
So when it arrived, flat packed in all its glory, I was ecstatic.
It took hours. I was only one petite woman and I struggled, but I didn’t want to ask for any help. I was determined that this would be mine. Only mine. I didn’t want to let anyone in on my project.
When it was finished I stepped back and looked at my handiwork. I considered what type of chair I might like inside, whether I wanted books or a television and if I wanted to paint it or leave the wood.
I always struggled to make my own decisions.
The next morning I rushed out to buy it all. I filled my car with plush furnishings and paint cans, decorative pictures and a rug that was more than I could really afford.
I got home. I dumped it all in the house and started to move items to the shed. I started with the paint and rollers, I put them all in a tough bag and trudged across the glass to my private little haven.
And there he was.
There was a man in my shed. He wasn’t anything special to look at; just a man, maybe a little younger than middle aged. He was handsome but tired. His face sagged as if he hadn’t slept in weeks and he was wearing a tattered suit and a pair of broken dress shoes.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, heart thumping as I dropped my bag and it split, paint can crashing and spilling across the grass.
“I don’t much like that colour.” He replied, gesturing to the duck egg blue stain across the lush foliage.
“Who are you?” I pushed. Frozen to the spot.
“My name’s Eli. I came with the shed.”
I didn’t answer at first. I was busy coming to terms with the ridiculousness of his statement. People don’t come with sheds. You can’t flat pack a person.
“You need to leave.” I answered, assessing the situation, wondering if he’d concealed a weapon and was going to attack me.
Would he force me into my house? Take my electrical items, my jewellery... my clothes? I stood in the garden staring into the shed in utter terror, blue spatter everywhere.
“You’re mighty nervous, miss. I’m not here to hurt you, scouts honour.”
“Were you a scout? How do I know you won’t hurt me?” I wondered if he was homeless, using previous scouting skills to find shelter. I found myself inexplicably softening to his presence.
“Heavens no, can’t join the scouts when you live in a box. I only know the box and now, this room. It’s much more spacious in here.”
I was baffled.
“You weren’t in the box. I’m not stupid... please... please leave before I call the police.”
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
His tone was sinister, serious and confident. My heart sunk. It wasn’t the first time I’d heard those words. Not the first time a man had made me so frightened for my life that I threatened the police. I didn’t have a leg to stand on before but I wanted this time to be different. This time the haven was mine, my private space.
Yet still, in an instant, he held all the power.
I didn’t respond. I just stood there.
“Did you buy a chair on your shopping trip? It’s really uncomfortable on this floor.”
I looked at him. At the tired, terrifying man and I felt... pity. Wait, no. Fear? I don’t know. I really don’t know.
So I got the chair.
I walked inside, picked up the chair I bought and handed it to Eli. The ridiculous man who came from the box.
“Thanks. You’re a good person aren’t you, what’s your name?”
“It’s Olivia.”
“It’s nice to meet you Olivia, why don’t you take a seat?”
He gestured to the floor of the shed. The one that I’d painstakingly put together with my own hands just the day before. My shed. It infuriated me. How could he just move in to my life and treat me like the guest?
It made me angry, but I obeyed him regardless, he was hypnotic. There was something special about Eli. So I sat, cross legged on the ground as he loomed over me on the chair.
I felt so small.
“I’ve been hoping that a good person would buy my box for such a long time. I’m so glad it was a good person like you. I think we’re going to get along great Olivia, don’t you?”
I crossed my arms and turned my head. I felt so uncomfortable. He spoke about his presence in my space like it would be long term, like he was intending to stay. I fought all my fear and all my anger - I’d gotten good at that - then I spoke.
“Eli, it’s been a pleasure but you need to leave, this is my home. I’m not intending to share it. I’m sorry.”
His eyes narrowed.
“You paid for me, though. That’s a contract. No taker backers. This is my home, you’re merely a custodian. Don’t you want us to have a good relationship Olivia? The ball’s in your court.”
I shook. I tried to conceal it but I think he saw. It’s like he could smell my fear, he knew that I was alone, vulnerable. It was like he knew there was no one I could call to help me.
“I... I’m sorry.” I stuttered. “You need to leave.”
I was firm. I tried to be. It took everything I had to muster up the courage to say those words. I’d done it before, I thought, remembering the last time I removed a man from my life, I can do it again.
The moment my words were finished it kicked in. The pain. He smiled a twisted grin as I felt my insides dance, writing into all the wrong positions. I’d never felt pain like it.
“I told you Olivia, the ball’s in your court. Are you sure you won’t let me stay a while?”
I clutched my stomach, I wanted so desperately to penetrate my own torso and manually place my own organs back into the correct position, but the pain wouldn’t let me. It wouldn’t even let me move.
”You can stay.” I spat through gritted, grimacing teeth.
The pain stopped in an instant. Eli stood up from the chair and outstretched a hand as I collapsed to the ground. He looked shinier somehow, not quite as tired as before. More handsome than he had been.
“Shucks, you’ve made the right choice, Liv. We’re gonna be great. I can tell.”
I sat on the floor winded for a few moment before I finally took his hand. I wasn’t sure if it was fear or fascination that made me take it. I don’t know if I was just weak or if something was truly wrong with me. But nevertheless, I took his hand.
“I’ll help you with the painting. We can do this place up real nice, I’m so excited to start a life with you.”
My stomach churned. He was being so nice, it seemed so genuine. But how could a man be flat packed? And how could he cause so much pain just looking at me?
I’m ashamed. I’m ashamed of how well I assimilated. I accepted my fate. That night I bought Eli dinner, a chicken casserole, and he gently suggested that next time I bought a curry.
It sounds small, just a dinner request, but it wasn’t. He shot me that twisted smile and I obeyed.
The next day I bought curry. I questioned myself at every moment. Why was I doing as I was told? Why was I obeying a man that claimed he came in a flat pack box? Why didn’t I just lock it, let him rot? Or better - why didn’t I just burn it?
I wish I could answer those questions. I wish I had a simple answer but I didn’t. Maybe I was scared. I was, I really was.
Maybe I thought I deserved it. I was weak, right?
Or maybe I needed the validation he gave me when I handed him the curry and he told me what a good person I was. That’s sick, right? That I’d let someone infect my entire life for a few brief moments of gratitude.
Life with Eli became routine.
I went to work, I shopped. I cooked for us, I cleaned for us. I spent every day and every evening in the shed. With him. Then at night, I went back to the house, I shut myself in and I cried.
I cried for my freedom, for the pain I was in, for the desperation of my situation and for the lack of willpower in me. I didn’t fight. I just cried.
It went on like that for a while. A long time in fact. Just a routine. A mundane routine.
Things were good. Or as good as they can be when a man like that lives in your shed. He helped me with the diy, kept me company and he kept me focused, even if it was on my own misery.
Then one day a work colleague asked me for drinks. I didn’t get invited places often, I felt a little buzz of joy that I’d been thought of. I wondered what Eli would do while he waited. Did it really matter? He lived in a box.
I felt free having drinks. It was liberating. I didn’t have to think about how lonely I was. How lonely I wanted to be. The garden and the house and the man in the shed disappeared with every sip. For a moment I felt normal.
My peace was short lived. I had to go home, had to go back to him.
He was furious.
“I was hungry Olivia. I can’t leave this shed, not like you can. Do you know how that feels?! To have no freedom... no power?!”
I laughed. I didn’t mean to but I did. It was ironic. I had all the freedom in the world, he was right. Yet I was chained. And he kept those invisible chains, wrapped right around the beating heart in my chest, on a tight leash in his own hands.
I was so trapped I couldn’t breathe.
“Do you think that’s funny? To mock the man in the box?” he snarled.
I stopped laughing. I felt a knot start to form in my stomach, like my insides were twisting. And then they were twisting, all out of place, wiggling around inside me like knives dancing past my flesh, leaving tiny slices wherever they scratched.
His smile twisted too. Into that sinister, wry grin that I’d feared for all these mundane, uneventful months.
I doubled over, screaming.
“Be quiet Olivia, the neighbours will hear you. Do you want anymore interference in our life?!”
Just like that he dropped the smile. Dropped the pain. I stopped screaming and stayed silent.
“I’m sorry, you gave me no choice, you know that right? I can’t be mocked, my dignity is all I have in this box.” His words were apologetic but there was no soul behind them. They weren’t genuine.
I nodded as my own tears ran down my face, coating my lips in a salty flavour. I sniffled back snot that tried to escape my nose. I couldn’t blame it, I’d try to escape too. Why the fuck hadn’t I tried to escape?
“Do you ever want more than just this shed? More than a box?” I asked, carefully, words shaking as I stumbled to my feet, dusting myself off. I was terrified to upset him. I didn’t know how strong his powers were; why he had such a hold over me.
I wondered, if I was so terrible, so oppressive, then why did he stay?
“I came with the shed, Olivia, I’ve told you that from day one. I can’t leave... I don’t exist outside this shed.”
“What do you mean you don’t exist?”
“Exactly what I said, are you dense? If I step outside, I disappear. I’m gone. Poof. And so is our life together. Then it’s just you, alone. Would you have any of this if it were just you?”
He gestured around him, around the beautifully furnished, dimly lit shed. There were fairy lights strewn around the perimeter of the roof, perfectly painted walls, a homely feel and my beautiful, expensive rug.
He was right. I couldn’t have done that alone. It would never have looked as good. He gave me that. He helped make it the shed of my dreams, just how I wanted it.
He made it perfect, but there was no peace. There was no haven. There was just obligation, control and pain. He gave me that too.
“Have you ever tried?” I asked.
“Why would I try to leave existence? Don’t you want me here Olivia? You did buy me.”
His tone was irritated, I realised I was pushing my luck. Making him angry. I was terrified of what he might do. Could he take my organs out? Force them out of my mouth if he got mad enough? Could he do things far worse than the pain I’d already felt?
I dwelled on his words. I did buy him, but I didn’t know what I was getting. Did that make it my fault? Maybe.
“You’re right. I’m sorry Eli, of course I want you here.”
I hobbled to my kitchen, I made food and I sat with him. He smiled sweetly, he didn’t look half as tattered as he had when we first met anymore. He was strong, fit, handsome. I did that. Maybe that was what it was all for. Maybe I was making him better.
I bid the man in the shed goodnight and I cried myself to sleep again.
How did my life take the turn that it did? Why me?
I laid in bed and though about what he’d said. He wouldn’t exist if he left the shed. Did he mean that? He came in the box. It took me a long time to accept that.
Maybe he just couldn’t see beyond the four walls that trapped him, or beyond the miserable life we shared.
Maybe he’d be happier if he could just leave the shed. I hated him. He terrified me. And I just wanted to make him happy.
A thousand options ran through my mind. If I tried to free him would he hurt me? I could try and run but where would I run to? How would I cope on my own? I’d never done that. Been alone.
I left one man. Made my own home, bought my own shed and it came with another man. What would I do without him? What was Olivia all about?
It terrified me. The idea that I couldn’t exist without Eli. But that was just the hold he had on me. He couldn’t leave the shed and I couldn’t leave him. So I just left it.
Months more passed. Months of feeding him, pandering to him, listening to his every story. He exhausted me. As I got weaker, he got stronger. I stitched up every tear in his suit, glued the holes in his shoes... I fixed him.
At the expense of me.
The fear I felt daily chipped away, it robbed my sleep, my looks and my sanity.
The final straw came when I told him I was tired and wanted to go to bed early one night. He said that I didn’t care about him and that he wished someone else had bought his box.
“You took me on Olivia, you chose that and now look at you! You can’t even keep your eyes open for our last hour together this evening. How could you be so selfish? You know you’re all I have.”
I apologised, I pleaded, I retracted my request. It didn’t matter. One more stray yawn and the twisted smile was back, the sinister tone that laced every word he spoke was thrust to the forefront of his vernacular. He spoke with bile, venom.
I snapped. Wait. No. My wrist snapped. Fuck. The bone inside it let out an almighty crunch and I fell to the ground in agony.
My organs started to do that familiar dance. I writhed and convulsed, contorting into shapes that only caused more pain. It was worse this time. Every time it got fucking worse.
He just stood there and smiled. He tormented me like that for a few minutes before finally he let up.
“I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow then. Goodnight Olivia, sleep well.”
I hobbled from the shed to the house, my arm swelling steadily beneath my shirt.
Why was I doing this to myself? Why the fuck was I letting him do this to me?
I snapped.
Not my arm this time, but me. I couldn’t live like it anymore. Live in terror of his constant attacks. He would lull me into a false sense of security and then strike. My guard was never down anymore, I was just a ball of anxiety.
I put on my pyjamas, got into bed and for the first time since Eli had arrived in my life I didn’t cry. Instead I waited until it was pitch black outside and I was certain that every neighbour’s lights were off.
I opened the backdoor carefully, making sure I didn’t make a sound. I opened the gate at the side of the house, I had to be sure it looked like strangers.
Then I walked across the grass and set the shed on fire.
I felt sick, my hand were clammy and my wrist throbbed, the swelling from the injury growing by the second. I was a tired mess but I didn’t care. Soon I would be free. I watched as the embers turned to violent, vicious flames.
Then I watched through the tiny window in the door as he burned.
He looked back at me. He knew. He knew what I’d done and that twisted smile never once left his face, even as his face melted into nothingness.
As the shed disappeared into ash so did he. Finally the flames ripped through enough wood for the structure to collapse and as he promised, without the shed he didn’t exist.
The firemen came. I filed a report. They promised to search for the non existent vandals that had twisted my arm as I confronted them.
Life went on.
It went on without him. I was still there, still me. But I was empty. Was this what freedom felt like? Boring. Quiet. Lonely.
Did Eli still have some sort of hold over me? Was he controlling me even in death?
It’s been so very quiet for weeks now and I should be grateful. I should be pleased that he isn’t there to scare me into submission and that no one’s hurting me anymore.
But I miss him.
I miss the dinners, the help, the company. Even if the good was few and far between surely it had to be better than nothing.
I tried a few things to make myself feel better. I did some yoga, I got one of those adult colouring books and I even tried walking along a nearby coast. None of it worked, so last week I resorted to retail therapy.
Today my new flat pack arrived, complete with my brand new shed. Tomorrow I’ll build it but until then it sits in the corner of the room, striking fear and excitement into my heart.
Feeling scared has to be better than feeling nothing, doesn’t it?
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