Hlynur had spent most of his time going through old obituaries. First Gauti’s, and then Gauti’s mother’s. He had been through his mailbox again and reread the threatening messages. When would this end? How could he make amends for his past misdeeds? Could he ever? He would have given everything he owned for a way out of this vicious circle, or for a voice that would tell him how he could put everything right. He suspected, and feared, that the voice had already told him. Next time I’ll teach you how to die. Whoever had sent him these messages, whether it was Gauti’s sister, or some other person altogether, was waiting for the inevitable: for Hlynur to go the same way as Gauti. The anger welled up again. Why can’t they leave me alone? I regret it!
