The Circle (Hammer) - By Elfgren, Sara B.,Strandberg, Mats Page 0,3

His grip on the glass shard tightens and the sharp edges cut into his palm.

No pain.

And he feels no pain. He sees the blood trickle from his hand and drip on to the grey-tiled floor but feels nothing. His body has gone numb. Only his thoughts remain. And the voice.

Life won’t get better. Might as well end it now. Spare yourself the pain. Spare yourself the betrayals. It never gets any better anyway, Elias. Life is just a humiliating struggle. The dead are the lucky ones.

Elias doesn’t try to resist as the glass shard cuts through the long sleeve of his shirt exposing the scarred skin beneath.

Mum, Dad, he thinks. They’ll get through this. They have their faith. They believe we’ll see each other again in Heaven.

I love you, he thinks, as the sharp edge starts to slice through his skin.

He hopes that Linnéa will understand that he didn’t choose this. Everyone else is going to think he killed himself, and that doesn’t matter. As long as she doesn’t.

He cuts into his flesh differently from how he ever has before. Deeply and purposefully.

It’ll soon be over, Elias. Just a little more. Then it’ll be over. It’ll be better like this. You’ve suffered so much.

The blood pumps from his arm. He sees it happening but feels nothing and now black spots dance before his eyes. They dance and grow until the whole world is pitch black. The last sound he hears is the footsteps out in the corridor. Whoever’s out there isn’t bothering to move quietly any more. There’s no reason to now.

He tries to keep thinking about Linnéa. Like when he was little, and thought he could escape his nightmares if he could just hold on to one bright thought as he drifted off to sleep.

Forgive me.

He doesn’t know whether those words came from him or the voice.

And that’s when he feels the pain.

2

WHEN SHE REGAINS consciousness, she’s lying huddled in the corner where they had left her.

It’s pitch dark in the cell. Her whole body aches.

She sits up, pulls her legs under her smock and wraps her arms around her knees. She still can’t hear anything from her right ear and there is a throbbing ache behind her eye, which is sealed shut with pus and coagulated blood.

Footsteps echo outside and the heavy door opens. Torchlight fills the room and she looks away when she sees her scarred feet bound together with a thick chain. Two guards wrench her up from the floor and tie her hands behind her back while the torchbearer looks on. The rope cuts into her wrists, but she refuses to let them see how much it hurts.

The man with the torch saunters forwards with an arrogant smirk. He has no teeth and his breath smells of rotten flesh. The heat from the torch sears her face as he brings it closer.

‘Today you’re going to die, harlot,’ he says, and strokes her face with his free hand, letting it continue down towards her breasts.

Seething hatred fills her, makes her strong and hard.

‘I curse you,’ she hisses. ‘Your prick shall fester and fall off! My lord Satan will come for you on your deathbed, and demons will torment you for all eternity.’

The man pulls away his hand as if burned.

‘God spare us,’ mumbles one of the guards.

It gives her a little consolation to see them so frightened.

Someone pulls a sack over her head, and she is dragged through the labyrinthine passageways.

A gate opens on creaking hinges.

Outside. There is the fresh smell of dew. She braces herself for the hateful baying of the mob, but all she hears is birdsong. The red light of dawn filters through the weave of the sackcloth over her head. A cuckoo caws to the south. It is a death knell. A deep, animal instinct takes over. She has to flee. Now.

Driven by panic, she rushes forward blindly. The iron shackles knock against her ankles as she runs. No one tries to stop her. They know there’s no need. She doesn’t get far before she falls headlong on to the damp ground. The guards laugh and call out behind her.

‘Looks like she’s in a hurry to get to her lord Satan,’ she hears the toothless one shout.

Powerful hands lift her underneath her arms and someone else grabs hold of her feet. They toss her roughly through the air. She soars for a moment before slamming on something hard and getting the breath knocked out of her. A horse snorts and the world