Eli snorted, her eyes narrowed.— Because I am like you.— What do you mean like me? I..Eli thrust her hand through the air as if she was holding a knife, said:— What are you looking at, idiot? Want to die, or something? — Stabbed the air with empty hand. — That what happens if you look at me.Oskar rubbed his lips together, dampening them.— What are you saying?— It's not me that's saying it. It's you. That was the first thing I heard you say. Down on the playground.Oskar remembered. The tree. The knife. How he had held up the blade of the knife like a mirror, seen Eli for the first time.
John Ajvide Lindqvist, Let the Right One In
children, crime, horror