She tried to twist a little to find a position where the pain was eased. Her jacket had balled up just where the pain had its focus. He saw her move and put his foot on her stomach.
'Stay still!'
The pain was so intense she couldn't breathe, her face becoming contorted. She saw flashing stars under her eyelids before she blacked out. A moment later she opened her eyes again. He had taken his foot away, but was standing close to her, holding his damaged hand stretched out and the other raised. His face was dead white. The raised hand was gripping a crucifix, which she had seen before. It was in one of the images among Patrik's print-outs.
He suddenly let it fall on her stomach.
'All yours!'
The crucifix wasn't heavy, but she instinctively tensed her stomach muscles as it fell and a new wave of pain flowed through her.
'You carry it yourself. It's your walk to Golgotha.' If she had been able to speak, she might have asked what he meant.
'Get up now. We are going outside.'
She managed to get up from the floor somehow. He grabbed her round the neck with his good hand and forced her to walk bent over, her eyes fixed on the floor and holding the crucifix in her left hand.
Darkness was falling outside.
The pain in her chest was less intense when she stood upright. Still grasping her neck, he pushed her ahead of him down the steps.
'Where are we going?'
Silently, he kept shoving her on towards the road. In her confusion, she thought that if she really were a member of the elect, God would surely send a car along this way.
He did not. Instead they crossed the road. They were almost there when she realised where they were going. The yellow house belonging to the Germans.
'What's going to happen in there?'
'You're going to kill yourself.'
She tried to straighten up but he pushed her head down again.
'They'll find you when they arrive in June. The crucifix will be on your stomach. Everyone will realise what's happened, the jigsaw will be complete. At last Sibylla will have atoned for her crimes. Kerstin will be able to identify you and I'll be standing by her, a loving support as always.'
They arrived at the steps leading to the front door. Sibylla pushed her right hand in her pocket. It curled round what she found there. Her nail file. Her fingers gripped the plastic handle.
The grip round her neck disappeared.
‘I’ve gor the keys in my pocket. My right jacket pocket. Pull them out.'
She straightened up and turned towards him. Their eyes met for a moment. Then she violently pushed the nail file into his face.
She did not stop to watch the result. When he put his hands to his face, she ran. The forest began on the other side of the low wooden fence and she leapt over it, somehow not feeling the pain in her chest.
He hadn't screamed this time either.
She kept up her speed. Sharp branches were whipping against her face as she pushed through the packed firs. The evening was still too light for her to hide. She must keep running and get away, far away. Before he came for her.
She did not know how long she had been running for, stumbling over stones and splashing through puddles in low-lying, swampy ground. By now she was wet up to her thighs and exhausted. She suddenly fell forward over something unrecognisable in the dark, lying on the ground, her breathing was drowning all other sounds, her lungs burning with effort. Now and then she tried to stop panting, to hold her breath for long enough to listen to the forest.
At first, she heard only the wind in the trees. It was a gentle sound compared with the roaring of herself struggling for air. She just lay there for what felt like a long time. Still, but always watchful.
How badly had she hurt him? She wasn't safe yet, no way.
Then, suddenly she heard his voice. It wasn't close, but cut through the gathering dark far too distinctly.
'Sibylla… you can't hide, not from us… God sees and hears everything… you know that…'
Terror struck again.
Then the moon suddenly shone brightly on her. Like a heavenly lamp.
There was a fir with protectively trailing branches in front of her. She quickly crawled into its dark shade. 'Sibylla… where are you…?"
His voice sounded much closer. Her breathing was still treacherous.
Now she could actually see him. He was walking straight towards her hiding place, as if he had been following an invisible thread through the labyrinth of trees.
'I know you're here… you must be here… somewhere…'
Now she could see his face. It was covered in blood. One wide-open eye was gleaming white.
Fifty feet… thirty feet…
Then, in one blessed instant, the moon disappeared behind a cloud. She was saved. She heard him groan, realising that he'd stumbled and had tried to hold himself upright using his wounded hand.
Serves you fucking right! You deluded cunt!
She was smiling. The disappearance of the moon made her hopeful again. She wasn't doomed to lose this battle. For a while, he had almost made her believe she had lost.
'You haven't got a hope… sooner or later we'll find you…'
His voice was more distant now. Just for that moment she was safe.
Perhaps she fell asleep on and off. She couldn't be sure. The darkness was so dense that she couldn't tell if her eyes were open or closed. When dawn broke and the first glimpses of contours became clearer, she crawled out from her hiding place to try to find a road.
She couldn't go back, but then there was no telling how far the forest stretched ahead. She decided to try to keep at a right angle to her first escape route. She should reach the road sooner or later, but well away from his house.
She was freezing, shivering with cold. Now that she had time to herself, the pain came back to haunt her. The broken rib ached angrily with each step.
The light was getting stronger every minute. Round her the forest was thinning. Tall bare pine trunks rose around her, with hardly any undergrowth. He could see her easily here. Surely she would reach the road soon.
She heard a branch crack and stopped, trying to localise the sound. Another crack now, but from a different direction.
Then she saw them. One of them shouted at her.
'Lie down!'
He was in uniform and aiming at her with his handgun, gripping it with both hands. If she hadn't been so scared, it would have been pure happiness to see them. She had never thought that she would be so utterly delighted at being surrounded by policemen.
She did as she was told, lying down, face against the ground, moving cautiously to minimise the pain. When she turned her head to look, four armed policemen were approaching her, all aiming at her with their guns. She tried to speak to them.
'I don't know where…'
'Shut up! Just don't fucking move!'
Then, in one dizzying insight, she knew what had happened. One of them pushed her face into the mossy ground, another frisked her body. One of them hissed at her. 'Murderous bitch!'
So he had got there first, ahead of her again.
She obeyed orders, keeping her mouth shut during the whole journey to Vimmerby police station. When she stepped out of the car, a camera flashed in her face. When she could see again, she caught a glimpse of a young man with an enormous camera in front of his face. Somebody asked her a question. 'Why did you do it?'
She was not given a chance to answer. Hard hands pushed her into the entrance hall of the police station. The whole room was full of people, civilians and uniformed staff, all observing her closely with disgust in their eyes.
'Move along. This way.'
The man who had been sitting next to her in the back of the car was now walking ahead, forming a small passage though the crowd. Someone pushed her from behind, hitting the sore rib so that she was grimacing with pain. A door opened and she stepped through it.
'Sit down.'
She obeyed, pulling back the chair with her hand-cuffed hands. Two new men came in and sat down behind the desk. One of them introduced himself.