The Circle (Hammer) - By Elfgren, Sara B.,Strandberg, Mats Page 0,20
than anything else is despair.
What sort of life would await her if she escaped into the forest?
Alone and cast out. Hunted by those she had thought she could trust. Forsaken by those who had promised always to protect her.
The red sun will clear the horizon at any moment.
They are nearly there.
Rebecka opens her eyes. The smell of smoke stings her nose, more pungent than it was yesterday morning.
The floor feels cold beneath her feet. She pulls on her socks from yesterday, a sports bra, an old T-shirt and baggy tracksuit trousers. Then she sneaks out of the room and quietly closes the door behind her.
She peeks into her little sisters’ room. Alma and Moa are still asleep. Rebecka can hear their breathing, and is filled with the love she often feels for them. It takes away the sadness and fear she experienced in her dream.
Only when she steps out into the hall does she realise that it is only six o’clock. She can hear her mother’s gentle snoring from behind the closed bedroom door, the humming and clicking of the refrigerator. Not a sound from her brothers’ room. Rebecka laces up her jogging shoes, grabs her grey hoody from the chair and leaves the apartment.
As she’s running down the stairs she can feel the endorphins pumping into her bloodstream. By the time she steps out on to the street, euphoria is bubbling inside her. It’s a beautiful day again today. The sun bathes the dull three-storey brick apartment blocks in a warm glow.
Rebecka pulls out her battered MP3 player from the pocket of her hoody and puts on the earphones. She jogs down the street and turns left at the end. She quickens her pace. The only time she loves her body is when she’s running, when she can feel the blood surging through it. It’s a machine that burns calories and oxygen.
She wishes she could see her body the way Gustaf claims to see it. But to her all reflective surfaces are like fairground mirrors. It started in year six when she and a few friends went on a diet together. The others gave up after just a few days, but Rebecka discovered she was good at it. Far too good. Since then not a day has gone by without her thinking about what she eats and how much she works out. Several times a day she calculates it in her head: small breakfast, small lunch, slightly bigger dinner in exchange for an extra long run – how many calories does that make?
The autumn of year nine was the worst. That was when she ate least and was best at hiding it. At weekends she would sometimes stuff herself with sweets and crisps, so that her mum and dad wouldn’t get suspicious. Then, to compensate, she ate even less the following week. It was during one of those weeks that she fainted in the gym, and the teacher sent her to the nurse where she made a partial confession that she might have been a bit ‘lax’ about eating. But only for a few weeks. ‘I swear.’ The nurse believed her. Rebecka was such a sensible girl, not at all the type to develop an eating disorder, the nurse thought.
Things had been a bit better during the spring term. And then she had met Gustaf. Now she doesn’t starve herself, but the thoughts are still there. Even if the monster keeps to itself most of the time, it’s always there, whispering, waiting.
The terraced houses give way to detached homes. In front of her rears Olsson’s hill where the big May bonfire is lit each year. She sprints up the long steep incline. When she reaches the top, she slows down and stops.
Her heart is pounding in her chest. Her face is flushed. The music is exploding in her head. She removes her earphones.
Down below the canal runs past. Beyond it lies the church. The cemetery. And the vicarage. Where Elias lived. Where his room is now empty. Where two parents have lost their son.
They’ll see his grave whenever they look out of the window, Rebecka realises. Suddenly she’s crying.
She didn’t know Elias, and doesn’t want to revel in someone else’s misery, like Ida Holmström and her friends, yet she feels a great sadness weighing on her chest. Because what happened was so senseless. Because he could have been happy if he’d held out a little longer. And because of something else that she can’t put into words.