Karin Alvtegen - Missing

The worst darkness was lifting. Tomorrow she'd pull herself together, do something.

They wouldn't crush her this time either, so there. She wondered if the nation-wide search for her was still on. Better get hold of a paper.

Then I saw a new Heaven and a new Earth; for the first Heaven and the first Earth had passed away and the sea was no more. And I saw the Holy City, a New Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband; and from afar I heard a great voice from the throne saying:

'Behold, the dwelling of God is with men. He will dwell with them and they shall be His people, and God himself will be with them; He will wipe away every tear from their eyes and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning nor crying nor pain any more, for former things have passed away.'

And He who sat upon the throne said:

'Behold, I make all things new.' Also he said:

'Write this down for these words are trustworthy and true.'

And He said to me:

'It is done. I am the Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end. To the thirsty I will give water without price from the fountain of the water of life. He who conquers shall have this heritage and I will be his God and he shall be my son. But as for the cowardly, the faithless, the polluted, as for murderers, fornicators, sorcerers and idolaters and all liars, their lot shall be in the lake that burns with fire and brimstone, which is the second death.'

Lord, I have done my duty. Now, all I can do is wait.

She had been surreptitiously watching him for a long time before he woke. The cold must have woken him during the night, because he'd put her anorak on.

During the small hours, she had made up her mind. She needed his help. Her only hope lay in telling him the truth. Then she went over what she must say again and again, trying to find the most gentle way to describe her situation.

When he woke his first move was to reach for his glasses. Then he sat up and looked at her, pulling his sleeping bag tightly around him.

'It's so fucking cold. Thanks for the anorak, it's great. Do you want it back now?'

'You keep it. My sleeping bag is warmer than yours.' The clock behind him showed ten minutes past nine. 'When do you start school?' He smiled at her.

'Knock, knock, anybody in? It's Saturday.'

She smiled too. It was nice to be made fun of like that. His hand emerged from the sleeping bag again, aiming for the grill-bag. He put it in his lap and opened it.

'Urrgh. Spare ribs for breakfast!'

'Do you want some of my crisp-bread? I've got some yoghurt too.'

He liked the idea and shoved the grill-bag back on the floor. Still wrapped in the sleeping bag he hopped across to her. 'Hey, take it easy. The floor could break.' 'Yeah?'

When he reached her, he settled with a thump. She shook her head and he grinned at her, grabbing a slice of crisp-bread.

He must have been really hungry. When he was wolfing his seventh slice she put the packet away.

'Tomorrow's another day.'

'We'll buy some more. No problem.'

She just looked at him and he grimaced, obviously realising how silly he had been.

'Sorry. I'll buy it. I'll give you the money, if you like.' 'Thanks, but no thanks.'

This was the right moment. How should she best open up the subject? She steeled herself, taking a deep breath. 'Do you follow the news, read the papers?' He shrugged.

'Not a lot. Mum wants me to read a proper paper like Dagens Nyheter, but it's way too much. Takes hours getting through it. But I do check out The Express. Dad brings it back after work. Why? Do you? Read a newspaper, I mean.'

'I do when I can. When I find one lying about. Or else I go to the Culture House. The reading room there has all the dailies.'

This was clearly news to him, but he nodded knowingly. She carried on talking.

'Yesterday, did you look at the papers?'

He shook his head at first.

'Wait, I did. The DN Friday supplement.'

How should she handle this? Did she have the right to involve him? It had seemed perfectly reasonable while he was asleep.

'Patrik, have you ever been accused of doing something you didn't do?'

'Suppose so. Have you got some yoghurt, or…?' She sighed and produced her big container. 'Thanks. Can I have it straight from the pack?' 'Sure. Unless you brought a nice plate, of course.' He grinned and she started again. The introductory bit was the hardest.

'I have, you see – been accused of something I didn't do, that is.'

He seemed focused on the yoghurt. Drinking it was hard, it was really too thick. He kept tapping the bottom of the pack. 'Does the name Sibylla mean anything to you?' He nodded, but still seemed more interested in the yoghurt. 'Patrik, you mustn't feel bad about this. Be cool.' She hesitated for one more brief moment. 'I'm Sibylla, you see.'

He didn't react first. Then the penny dropped. He stiffened, put the yoghurt down and turned to look at her. There was real fear in his eyes.

'Please, believe me, I didn't do it. I just happened to be in the Grand Hotel when someone killed that guy. I'm innocent.'

He was clearly unconvinced. His eyes flickered round the attic for a moment, as if seeking an escape route. She must gain time. Somehow this wasn't working out the way she'd hoped. The word came spontaneously now, not in the careful order she had practised.

'Oh, for Christ's sake, Of course I'm not serial killer. You wouldn't have been sitting her now if I had been, after all, I've had all night to chop you up in little pieces.'

This was not a good way of putting it. In fact, it was pretty disastrous. Suddenly he made a move to get away, but the sleeping bag trapped him.

He mustn't go – not yet.

She leapt at him, pinning him down against the mat with her knees on his arms. His quick breathing sounded like sobbing. His tears were not far away.

Oh God no!

'Please. Don't hurt me.'

She closed her eyes. What was she doing?

'You must know that I won't hurt you. Please listen to me. I'm holed up in this freezing attic with every single cop in the country after me. They've made up their minds that I'm IT. I haven't got a chance. Like I said yesterday, people like me have no rights. Oh Patrik, you've got to believe me. I told you all that personal stuff yesterday because I trusted you. I thought you at least would believe in me.' By now the sobs had quietened down.

'I'm telling you this because I need your help. I don't dare go into a shop even.' His wide, frightened eyes were fixed on her. She sighed. 'OK, I'm sorry. Forgive me'

Just imagine what anybody watching them would make of her sitting astride a defenceless fifteen year-old. She stood up, letting him free.

'Go away now.'

He stayed where he was, very still and looking as if he hardly dared to breathe. 'Go!'

He twitched in response to her loud voice. Then he crawled out of his rucksack and started slowly walking towards the door, his back tense as if he feared she would jump on him from behind.

I need my anorak.'

He stopped at once, let the anorak slide to the floor and walked on. When he reached the door he suddenly leapt at it and rushed out. She could hear his running footsteps in the corridor outside.

Slumping down on her mat, she knew staying in the attic was not possible now. She had to leave, at once. She packed his things neatly and then started on her own. A few minutes later everything was tidied away. Just inside the door, she turned to cast a last glance at the clock. Bye, bye.

Into the corridor, down the stairs. On the ground floor she stopped for a moment. The mere thought of opening the door to the world outside made her feel sick. This everlasting fear would destroy her in the end. She chose to walk round to the back door leading into the school-yard. The thought of the street was too frightening.