(no subject)
Lisbeth Salander
Fandom: Millennium Trilogy
Word Count: 568
Timeline: The Girl Who Played With Fire
Warning: Deals with potentially upsetting topic of rape
Per-Ake Sandstrom has committed a grave, horrendous crime the punishment of which is death. On more then one occasion, Per-Ake Sandstrom visited the house of Ines Hammujarvi a seventeen year old from Piepalu and raped her. Tied her down to the bed and raped her over and over while his hosts watched and poured liquor down the teenagers throat.
The evidence of which was on his hard drive. Perverts, sadistic, sick and twisted bastards rarely stop their behavior, rarely walk away without some sort of memento without something to remember their brutality. Per-Ake Sandstrom had pictures of the dark haired teen tied down to the bed, eyes red face wet; sick with tears and booze. So when he was away he could remember and relive and get excited all over again.
The punishment for this inhuman act is death.
Lisbeth moves through the stuffy apartment, moving silently over the wooden floors poking at copies of newspapers with her face plastered on the front page. She hates that fucking passport photo, it looks nothing like her now. She looks away from the papers and continues her exploration of the apartment. It smells like sweat and fear, like someone hasn't bathed or taken the rubbish out in a long time. For a moment she thinks about burning it down with him in it. That would be a fitting punishment.
His feet climb the stairs she can hear him move, slow and heavy the fat, disgusting son of a bitch. As big as he is it's no protection against the volts she pumps into his overweight body with her taser. He goes down in the kitchen and she has to drag him into the living room.
In his bathroom she puts on her mask, white, white with her eyes and lips blacked out with the red slash across her face running in between her eyes. It's her but it's not her, it is the face of death and judgment. It allows her the power to judge the condemned and see if he is worth redemption. In the pit of her stomach she does not believe that he is, in that pit she toys with the idea of ignoring any of his worth and passing immediate judgment.
The fear in his eyes, in his face is plain to see when she strings him up and his blubbering, his crying is satisfying to her in a way that touches a very dark, deep place inside of her. A place she very carefully tries to keep curtained off from the rest of herself. She can smell it, the sweat, the fear, the way his face bulges against the black rope and how he tries to balance on his toes so as not to hang himself.
She hopes he lies, hopes she has to kill him. They already think she is responsible for three murders why not make it four? Why not make it four? She is the judge and the jury, in her position in front of him, behind her mask she holds the knowledge of what and who he is.
A sadistic rapist and a pervert and he deserves to die.
When she gets what she wants from him she stands and moves to deliberate and in the bathroom she faces the mask she had constructed. After a long silence she begins to wash off the mask.
Per-Ake Sandstrom will live another day.