Elisabet keeps still, staring so hard down the hall her eyes are frozen open. It must be one of the girls talking in her sleep, she thinks. Then theres a noise, like an overripe peach dropping on the floor. Then another, heavy and wet. A table leg scrapes the floor and theres the sound of two more peaches falling.
Out of the corner of her eye, Elisabet catches a movement, a shadow gliding past. She turns around and sees the door to the dining room slowly close.
Wait! she calls out, even while trying to convince herself its nothing; it must be the draft.
She grabs the doorknob to the dining room, but something stops the door from opening and she has to yank it before it finally gives way. Stepping inside, she can see herself in the dull reflection from the scratched dining-room table, and again in the brass fire doors of the tile stove. She checks it: the lids are all shut. The stove suddenly knocks, and Elisabet takes a quick step back, tilting over a chair. Its nothing. Just the slipping of a log.
She heads to her room, pausing outside the girls bedrooms. She detects a sour, slightly metallic aroma. She searches for movement in the hallway, but all is still. To the right are the bathrooms and the alcove leading to the isolation room. Miranda should be fast asleep in there. The peephole in the door glimmers weakly.
Now, again, theres that light voice, whispering.
Its time to be quiet, Elisabet calls out.
A series of quick thuds. Its hard to locate the noise, but it sounds as if Miranda is lying in bed and kicking her bare feet against the wall. Elisabet decides to check on her through the peephole. It is then that she sees a shadowy figure in the alcove. With a gasp, she backs away. She knows how dangerous the situation is, but fear makes her slow; her body feels as if its moving in the heavy water of a dream. But the creaking of the floor startles her awake, and she whirls around and starts to run.
A soft voice behind her urges her to stop, but she knows she mustnt.
Elisabet makes it to the front door. Throwing the lock, she races out into the cool air of the night. She slips on the front steps, smacking her hip and twisting a leg beneath her. Her ankle hurts so badly she cries out, and she crawls for a stretch, losing her slippers. Then she forces herself to her feet.
4
The dog is barking at her. He runs circles around her as she limps away across the gravel driveway. She knows there is no escape in the forest, and its several hours walk to the closest farm, so she drags herself behind the drying shed, toward the former brewery. Hands shaking, she opens the door, slips inside, and pulls the door tight.
Oh God! Oh God!
She searches her pockets for her cell, but her hands jerk so badly she drops the phone. The back bursts off and the battery flies out. She scrambles to pick up the pieces as she listens to the footsteps crunch the gravel.
She crawls to the low window and peers out. Buster, who has followed her, scratches frantically at the door. Elisabet creeps over to the masonry fireplace and crouches behind the woodpile, where with uncooperative hands she tries to shove the battery back into place.
The door flies open. Theres nowhere to go.
She can see the boots, the twisted face, the raised hammer, its heft and shine. She listens to the voice, nods, and then covers her face with her hands.
The shadowy figure pauses a moment before knocking her flat on the ground, holding her down, and smashing her hard. Along the hairline, her forehead burns. Her sight is gone, and shes in agony, but the warm blood running over her ears and down the sides of her throat feels like a caress.
The next blow lands in the same spot. Her head is knocked askew and now the only thing she knows is how to breathe. She thinks how wonderfully sweet oxygen is.
She cannot feel her body jerk from the next round of blows. She cannot tell when the keys to the office and the isolation room are taken from her pocket. She cannot see her body lying on the floor or the dog sneaking in and tentatively lapping the blood leaking from her crushed head. She cannot sense her life ebb away.
5
Someone has left a large red apple on the table. It gleams and looks wonderfully tasty. Perhaps shell just eat the whole thing and then pretend she knows nothing about it. Shell sit there looking glum, ignore the harangues, and refuse to answer their questions.
She reaches for the apple, but her fingers sink into cold, mushy flesh. Its completely rotten.
Nina Molander wakes up as she jerks her hand away. Its the middle of the night. Shes lying in her bed. The only thing she hears is the dog barking in the yard. This new drug makes her wake at night. She has to get up and go to the bathroom. She needs to take the drug, even though it makes her feet and calves swell. Without it, dark thoughts consume her to the point where she no longer cares about anything and cant get out of bed. She knows she needs something to look forward to instead of thoughts about death.
Nina throws off her blanket and sets her feet on the warm wooden floor. Shes fifteen years old, with straight blond hair, wide hips, and large breasts. Her white flannel nightgown is tight around her belly.