Karin Alvtegen - Missing

'Do they give lots of social-benefit cash then?'

She shook her head. Was he already checking out his future rights as a homeless person?

'What do you eat and stuff? Do you do rooting in rubbish bins?'

He looked disgusted.

'It has happened.'

'Sick.'

'You'll have to try it if that's the future you're going in for.' 'But you get money hand-outs, don't you? Like, to buy grub and things.'

She couldn't be bothered answering. The obvious point was that you accepted hand-outs, it followed that some people would still be in a position to tell you what you must and mustn't do. Then the school-bell rang. He seemed not to notice.

'Still, I'm not sure. Maybe I'll go for a job in TV instead.'

'Shouldn't you be off now?'

He shrugged his shudders.

'Suppose so.'

He sighed, turning to walk away.

She still wasn't convinced that he would keep this to himself and the problem was acute. A straightforward question was the simplest solution.

'Are you going to tell?'

'Tell, what?'

'About me being here. Sleeping over for a bit.'

The thought had obviously never occurred to him. 'Why should I tell?' 'No special reason.' 'What's your name?'

He had walked up the few steps up to the door, but turned towards her. 'Tab. You?'

'Sylla. Tab's not your real name, is it? Did you pick it yourself?'

He shrugged.

'Can't remember.'

'What's your real name then?'

'Give over – what's this? Jeopardy or something?'

She had no idea what he was talking about and waved a hand vaguely.

'I just wondered.'

He sighed, letting go of the door-handle. 'Patrik. My real name is Patrik.'

She smiled and after a moment's hesitation he smiled back. He turned to the door again. 'Cheers.'

'Bye, Patrik. See you some time?' Then he was gone.

Of course it didn't work out. She was picked up and sent home within hours of the vegetable incident.

It didn't take long for the hospital to respond. The car crunched along the gravel drive and minutes later someone rang the doorbell.

When Beatrice Forsenström opened the door, Sibylla was already sitting on the stairs, halfway down, with her suitcase next to her. No one took any notice of her.

'Thank you for coming so soon.'

Her mother opened the door wider to allow them to step inside. The younger of the two was eyeing the handsome hall, obviously impressed. Maybe he was wondering how anyone could go nuts while living in such a grand house.

Her mother went straight to the point.

I cannot deal with her any more. She's completely impossible.'

The second man was nodding gravely.

'Do you have any idea if she has actually become psychotic again?'

I can't be sure. Of course, she has these outbursts, making accusations against me and although I know she mustn't upset herself, it's so difficult…'

Her mother covered her eyes with her hand. Sibylla heard the door to her father's study opening and his indoor shoes pad across the tiled floor. Then she could see him over the handrail. He went up to the men and shook their hands.

'Henry Forsenström.'

'Hakan Holmgren. We've come to collect Sibylla.'

He nodded and sighed. 'Best so, I think.' Sibylla got up.

'I'm packed and ready to go.'

Everybody turned to watch her. Her mother took a step closer to her husband, who put a protective arm round her. They seemed worried that their daughter would throw some kind of fit. When she reached the bottom of the stairs the small gathering scattered to let her pass. Once outside, she turned. The male nurses hadn't moved. She addressed them politely.

'I'm sorry, are you waiting for something?'

Hakan Holmgren took a few steps towards her.

'No, we're OK. Let's go. Sure you've packed everything you need?'

Sibylla just turned and walked towards their car, opened a rear door and climbed inside. The others joined her a little later, presumably after another briefing on her state of mind. She never saw her parents again. Her last glimpse was of them standing on the pointless tiled floor in the hall, screwing her reputation behind her back.

After a couple of days they gave her a room of her own.

The moment she entered the ward one of her fellow patients took it into her head that Sibylla was the Virgin Mary with a new baby Jesus inside her. It wasn't a problem for her, but the staff soon became utterly bored with the woman's pleading for her sins to be forgiven. Getting Sibylla out of the way seemed the most effective solution.

Delighted with the sick woman's helpful delusions, Sibylla gratefully pulled her own door shut. All she wanted was to be left in peace.

Her belly grew bigger and bigger.

Now and then a midwife would turn up, check her blood pressure and listen to the baby through some kind of inverted funnel. The growth was apparently doing all right, because the midwife didn't call often. Instead she gave Sibylla a book about pregnancy and delivery, which went straight into the drawer in her bedside table.

This time she was allowed walks on her own in the park, because they all agreed that the exercise was good for her. She spent a few hours walking every day. The white stone buildings looked quite beautiful, at least from a distance. If she let her mind go blank, it was possible to imagine that this was the park of a great castle.

The man who wanted her to talk didn't call very often either. Maybe he had sicker patients to look after. Apparently she was no longer crazy, only pregnant. It wasn't his fault that back home it amounted to more or less the same thing.

About two weeks before the baby was due she felt her first true contraction, an intense pain as if from a hammer blow. It passed as suddenly as it had arrived. Alone in her room, she collapsed on the bed, feeling terrified. What was that?

Then the pain struck her again, fierce and relentless.

Something had broken inside her. Fluid flooded down between her legs.

This must be death. It was her punishment. Something had broken inside her and her blood was pouring out of her. Once the pain had faded she looked down at her legs. No blood. Had she peed herself? Lost her mind or something?

The pain came in a wave next time. It hurt so much she was screaming out loud. Seconds later a female nurse came rushing in and started dealing with the wet sheets. Sibylla felt ashamed.

I'm sorry. Please, I need help. I think something's broken inside me.'

The woman just beamed at her.

'Don't worry, Sibylla. You're about to give birth – that's all. Just wait here. I'll go and phone Transport.'

She hurried away. Phone Transport? Where were they going to transport her?

'Good luck, Sibylla!' That's what they had said after pushing her stretcher into an ambulance. The words were ringing in her ears.

Now she was in another hospital, lying in bed alone in another room.

'Would you like us to call your husband?'

She had shaken her head. There was an uneasy silence.

'Is there anyone else you'd like to be with you?'

She had not answered the question, just closed her eyes and concentrated on trying to stop the next wave of pain. She didn't have a hope, of course. Nothing she could do helped against the unbearable pain racking her body. She was reduced to being just a body, possessed by an alien force intent on drilling a hole large enough to let the creature inside it get out. Her mind was out of order, her will had been dismantled, leaving her exposed to this purposeful, unstoppable process that would give her no peace until it had run to its completion.

She was about to make life.

A white clock faced her on the opposite wall. Its hands jumped forward regularly, her only reminder of a world outside that followed other laws.

The pause between each little jump seemed so long. Hours passed.