Missing

right-handed, because if so he would be really handicapped. Not as handicapped as she was, though. That fucking candle was still alight. She hadn’t even managed to extinguish it.
    What a bloody awful, shitty mess. And she had been so close.
    She tried to twist a little to find a position where the pain would ease. Her jacket had balled up just where the pain was focused. He saw her move and put his foot on her stomach.
    ‘Stay still!’
    The pain was so intense she couldn’t breathe, and her face 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, stretching out his damaged hand and raising the other. His face was deathly 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’re going outside.’

S he 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 got 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 stay 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 it 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 protective trailing branches in front of her. She quickly crawled into its dark shade.
    ‘Sibylla … where are