'You were focused on shooting?'
'I needed that bang,' he repeated.
'Why didn't you stop?'
'It was too hard. I was already in the middle of it.'
'You felt you had passed the point of no return. And then it went off. How did that feel?' Robert swallowed hard. Held back his reply.
Couldn't believe his own words. 'Good,' he said. At the same time he began shaking violently. 'It felt good. I got really hot. I could feel myself falling.'
'The sounds in the room,' Sejer said, 'did they come back?'
'After a while. Like when somebody turns up the radio to full blast. I was shaking uncontrollably. They were bending over me, everybody was bending over me, and someone was screaming. The girls were wailing, and someone dropped a glass on the floor.'
'What did you think had happened?'
'That a terrible accident had taken place. That I was injured.'
'You. Injured?'
'Something had hit me. It was all a blur. The sounds were too loud. There was blood on the floor. I thought, somebody is going to come and help me soon. I fell down while I waited for help. I liked the fact that someone was going to come and carry me away. I liked it,' he said.
'What about now, Robert? Do you want to go on?'
'Yes.'
He had been making such an effort that his shirt had big wet patches on it.
'Why?'
'This time, starting again is different. It won't be the same things as before.' He leaned across the desk, exhausted. 'But I don't understand why. The psychologist can probably find an explanation. But how can he be sure that it's the right one?'
'He's not always sure, Robert. He does his job as best he can. He tries to understand.'
'But is there anything to understand? It just happened.'
'There are a lot of strange things that just happen. But it's important to go over things. And maybe you'll understand more as time passes.'
'But I'm not crazy!' That was the one thing he didn't want to be.
'No. I don't think of you as crazy. But sometimes too many things can happen all at once and knock us over. But you can get up again. You're still the one controlling your own life.'
'I don't think so. Not in here.'
'Oh yes. You decide almost everything. What you say, what you think, how you're going to spend your days.' Sejer took his hand. 'I wish you would eat something.'
'If I don't eat I get so foggy, and then I don't have to think so much.'
'It's better to think, if you can. Don't put it off. It'll come back to you sooner or later anyway.'
Robert's mouth was dry. He wondered if he could be picked up and carried back to the cot in his cell by this strong man.
'You can get up and leave,' Robert said. 'Leave this place and forget about us. I've become somebody's job,' he said pensively. 'You're paid to talk to people like me.'
'Does that bother you?'
'A little.'
'I don't mind being around people like you.' Robert was lost in his own thoughts. Sejer let him sit there. Robert was cautiously forming ideas. He would manage to bear what awaited him.
Survive prison. Everyone in here had made similar mistakes. He was one of many, some might have even done worse things. He would toe the line, follow the rules, be a model prisoner. Day after day, for weeks, months. He would make it through. But afterwards . . . when he got out one day, what then?
What would he say? What would he do when people found out about his past? Would he be able to handle that? Or would he make sure that he found a way back to this building, with its order and rules? Here it was easy. A few simple tasks, meals three times a day, money for cigarettes. Even kindness. Once again, he started to shake.
'But I want to know how I'm supposed to handle this!' he burst out. Tears welled up in his eyes, but he fought to hold them back and wiped his nose on his sleeve. Sat there in silence while the suppressed sobs shook inside him. He no longer knew who this Robert was. He had lost his foothold on reality. Slowly, he rose from his chair. He rose up higher and higher, felt himself hovering high above the desk. He could look down at his own empty chair, he could gently turn and circle the room. The chief inspector didn't notice; he was busy writing notes.
C H A P T E R 1 4
Runi was standing on the steps, shouting. She was clearly upset and kept on tugging at the door handle. I ran back to the kitchen and turned the radio up to full volume.
'Irma, it's Runi. You have to let me in, Irma!' I thought fast. Did I have to open the door? What would happen if I didn't?
'I'm not feeling well!' I shouted. 'I stayed home from work today!'
I leaned against the wall for support. I had to keep her out! Why was all of this coming to my house, trying to force its way in!
'I have to talk to you!'
She wouldn't give up. I tried to think of an excuse not to open the door. Andreas would hear us and start screaming. She didn't usually come over like this, without being invited, it was unbelievably bold of her, and of course impossible for me to let her inside. But if I didn't open the door . . .
'Let me in, Irma! I beg you!'
Her voice had reached a falsetto pitch. I thought about the neighbours; they would hear her. I was going to have to open the door. I turned the key and opened the door a crack. She barged into the hall. Her eyes were swollen and her coat was unbuttoned. It was awful to see Runi looking that way. I prefer her usual sweet self.
'Something terrible has happened!' She sank on to a chair at the table and rummaged in her handbag for a cigarette. Gypsy music was coming from the radio, which she glanced at and then started shouting in despair. 'I've called you several times. Why didn't you answer?' and then,
'Can't you turn that radio down?'
I went to the radio and turned it down, but just a little.
'What's wrong?'
'Andreas,' she gasped. 'Andreas is missing.'
'What do you mean, missing?'
I gave her a look of incomprehension. But I needn't have worried, because she was so absorbed in her own despair. That was actually quite typical of Runi. She didn't really see me at all, just stared down at her own unhappiness.
'He hasn't been home for two days. I've been to see the police.'
'The police?' I was appalled.
'I reported him missing.'
I pulled my cardigan tighter as I listened intently for sounds from the cellar, but I didn't hear anything. Maybe he had fainted, or fallen asleep. Dear God, even though I don't believe in you, please make him sleep!
'But isn't Andreas often away from home?' I said. 'Have you called his father?'
'He's not there. The police have been out to talk to him.'
'What about his friends?'
'He only has one friend, and he doesn't know anything. Something has happened to him, I'm sure of it. Good Lord! I feel so desperate. What if he ran away? We're always fighting. I was never happy with him, and maybe now he's had enough. I'm going crazy with this waiting. It's driving me crazy, Irma!' She leaned forward and began to sob. She sobbed for a long time while I searched for something to say. I'm not very good with words, and I started to feel a little embarrassed. Besides, I thought I could hear a sound from the cellar. Some sort of clicking noise. Faint, but definitely there. But he couldn't move, so it had to be something else. I searched frantically for an
