I’m kneeling in front of him, my hands tied behind my back. He’s walking nervously around in front of me, his upper body moving back and forth. I try not to look at him, keep my eyes fixed on his shoes. Trainers. He’s trying to be cool. Arsehole. Just don’t look at him, look at his shoes, don’t look him in the eye. Don’t look at his face. Keep looking at his shoes. His shoes.

He grabs my hair with one hand and wrenches my head far back. Swings his arm. I feel a deep, penetrating pain, my skull seems to be splitting. That bastard, he hit me in the face! I hurt all over. My head, my shoulders, my hands and knees. That bastard, that filthy, bloody bastard! The key, or else… the key… I don’t have the key!

He swings his arm back again, hits me in the face a second time. Bright lightning flashes in front of my eyes. My left eye is throbbing. I can hardly stand the pain. Like a long, sharp needle running through my skull. Going deeper every time my heart beats, deeper and deeper. I try opening my eyes. Open your eyes! For God’s sake open your eyes! It’s no good. I can’t open them. The pain! Open your eyes! Pull yourself together, open them! The light’s so bright, incredibly glaring. I can’t keep my eyes open. Can’t. I try again. My left eye stays closed, my right eye opens just a crack. Everything’s all blurred. The hand in my hair jerks my head back. Pain again, my head is bursting.

The key…the key…I feel as if the ground’s giving way under me. Heat rises in me, running up over my back, the nape of my neck, it takes hold of my head from behind, breaks over my forehead like a wave. I slowly sag and collapse, let myself fall…just let myself fall…

I fall through a never-ending black void. Suddenly there’s something shining – I feel drawn to that light, it’s like swimming through the void towards the light. The brightness pushes the dark away. I’m in a room. I know the room, I’ve been here before, I’ve been here countless times. Don’t know when. Don’t know why. I’m turning around myself, turning on my own axis. Seeing the room through my eyes, seeing myself at the same time, watching myself turning and looking around. The little boy appears as if out of nowhere, standing in front of me, small and skinny. I go towards him, I don’t recognize him, yet he’s somehow familiar to me, like the room where I find myself now. The boy’s face changes, it looks more familiar with every step that I take closer to him. Joachim? Joachim, it’s Joachim, it must be Joachim! My doubts change to certainty. With a girl beside him, maybe thirteen years old, dark-blonde hair in plaits. Closer, closer still. Where did that girl come from all of a sudden? She’s standing in the room beside me, no, she’s not beside me… I’m inside her. I’m the girl. I’m the girl, I’m a child again. The images flow into each other, each emerging from the one before it. The boy, Joachim, turns to me. I can’t understand what he’s saying. He’s babbling away much too fast. I can’t understand him, it makes no sense. Slowly, words form.

I’m beginning to understand him. ‘Piggy bank.’ I look at the floor. There are bits of broken earthenware all over it. Coins among the broken bits. Pfennigs, ten-pfennig pieces. Joachim bends down, kneels in front of me. He’s wearing short trousers, kneeling on the broken piggy bank with his legs bare, his knees bleeding. He looks down at the coins. My hand takes hold of his soft hair, shakes his head, hauls it up to me, his face wet with tears. Snot running out of his nose. ‘You lousy little thief!’ I feel the rage in me, I feel incredible rage. My free hand keeps hitting his little head, won’t stop. He’s bleeding, I keep on hitting him, again and again…until his head, his body go slack, hanging from my hand. I watch myself with indifference as I let go of him. His body sags, now he’s lying on the floor without moving, lying on the broken piggy bank. Blood slowly trickles from his ear in a thin red line. Curious, I put out my hand to touch the trickle of blood. See it shining on my fingertip. I bend down, feel my lips touching his cheek; I kiss his hair, all smeared with blood. Even as my lips touch him I want him to disappear. His body has to go! I must get it away! I fetch the wheelbarrow, try to heave the body into it. Even though he’s so small and thin, he feels incredibly heavy. As soon as I’ve done it and he’s in the wheelbarrow, he slips out again the other side.

‘Hello, Monika, want to take me for a walk?’ I stop in surprise, I turn around. I’m in a meadow, not inside a room any more. Joachim is standing there, leaning against a willow tree. Joachim who was lying on the floor like a dead body just now. He’s holding one hand to his ear, grinning.

The picture blurs, I wake up from the dream, I slip back into reality. I try opening my eyes. It works only with the right eye, and even that eye not properly. I blink, the light’s glaring, dazzling. I close my eye again. Try once more. This time I manage to keep it open a little longer, I’m getting used to the brightness. Where am I? Am I alone? I don’t feel the hand in my hair any more. I’m lying on my side, hands still tied behind my back. My coat over me. On the fitted carpet with my back to the wall, in the corridor between the office door and the staff toilets. How is the coat arranged, where are the coat pockets? On the inside. He’s put the coat over me lining side out. I try to get hold of the fabric with my fingers. Grope around as well as I can with my hands tied behind my back. My arms hurt, my hands feel as if they’ve gone to sleep. I have to wiggle my fingers for a little while to bring them back to life before they’ll obey me. Somehow or other I manage to wedge the fabric between my fingers. I feel the edge of the coat pocket. Get hold of the inside-out edge of the fabric. Pull it towards me, little by little. The fabric slips out of my fingers. Shit! I try again. Once, twice. My pocket-knife is in there. I manage to get my fingers inside the pocket. I feel the cold metal. I must shake the knife out of the pocket. Somehow or other I must shake that damn knife out of my coat pocket. I’ve no idea how I’m going to do it, but I try. Again and again and again. Until I manage to get the knife wedged between my forefinger and middle finger. Slowly pull it out of the pocket. My fingers get stuck at the fabric edge of the coat pocket; I press them more tightly around the handle of the knife. The pressure makes it slip out of my fingers again, back into the coat pocket. Bloody hell.

I hear sounds, footsteps coming closer, very close. I close my eyes, pretend I’m asleep. He’s standing right in front of me. I don’t need to open my eyes, I know who’s standing there. The toe of one shoe is pushed under my face, turns my head suddenly from lying sideways to facing up. My heart is thudding. My breath stays steady. Slowly, I open my right eye. I try to look at him. The light is behind him, so I see only his outline. His body looks massive. He has very short hair. Have I ever seen him before? Does he look familiar to me? A customer? Damn it, I can’t remember.

‘The key!’