At one point I put my phone down and walked away from it. Every ping from each notification felt like a stab or an attack. But it was impossible not to go back and see what people were writing. They wanted to know where I was, where I had been. Come on, Even, talk to us. I turned off the sound. Put the phone away, then grabbed it again. More and more it felt like someone was trying to destroy my life. At the moment he or she was succeeding.

One of the news stories on the VG Nett site caught my attention. It was an interview with Oskar, my best friend – or former best friend. Apparently he was one of the last people to see Johannes alive. And Børre, I now realised. I had asked Oskar to find Børre and to confront him.

The thought gave me goosebumps. I clicked on the article. I was afraid to read on but couldn’t stop myself. Oskar and some of Johannes’ groupies had left the school together after the show, but Johannes had left his phone in the room where Mari had interviewed him. He went back to get it. ‘If only Johannes had remembered his mobile,’ Oskar said to the interviewer, ‘he would still be alive today.’ The headline read ‘Chance Victim?’

Why the hell hadn’t Oskar told me about this?

I took a shower and found some painkillers among the tablets in Imo’s medicine cupboard. Washed them down with some water. They helped a little, but I still felt like I’d played three football matches in a row, without having a break in between. I had a training session later that day, but I just couldn’t face going. I decided to give my coach a ring to explain, but I hung up before he had a chance to reply.

Afterwards, I sat on the bathroom floor, my back against the wall, thinking about Mari, Johannes and Børre, but mostly about Mari. I couldn’t believe I would never get to see her again. Feel her skin against mine. Her lips. Her touch. What on earth had she said or done that was so bad she had to be killed for it?

‘Your Mum called,’ Imo said when I went back into the living room. ‘She wants me to drive you home as soon as possible.’

‘Why?’

‘I think she wants to apologise for the argument you guys had yesterday,’ he said.

‘I didn’t have a fight with her,’ I said. ‘She had a fight with me.’

‘Whatever.’

He moved one of the logs in the fire, which was about to go out. ‘I said I’d give you some breakfast first, and then take you home. Are you hungry?’

I shook my head, a little too hard – it felt like nothing inside my skull was attached to anything. ‘I don’t think I’ll want food ever again.’