Silver Tears(51)

Everything was bathed in the deep golden hue cast by the streetlights.

David and Faye didn’t say much—words felt superfluous and inadequate—but occasionally they would stop and look at each other, smiling happily.

Eventually, David suggested they have a nightcap. So they sat down at a rickety table outside, side by side, facing the street, and ordered a bottle of wine.

Faye looked at David.

Her heart was beating so hard in her breast.

“When I’m with you, I don’t feel bad about anything,” she said. “Instead, I want to tell you about my weaknesses, the things I’m ashamed of, to get them out into the open. Apart from Chris, I’ve never felt like that with anyone.”

“It’s the same for me. I think it’s because we both know the other doesn’t have any ulterior motives. The weaknesses and failures are never going to be used as weapons against us.”



A waiter in a white shirt, black waistcoat, and bow tie opened the bottle of wine and let Faye try it. She nodded and he poured them a glass each before setting the bottle in an ice bucket, bowing, and disappearing.

Faye wanted to tell David everything about her life, while at the same time she knew she couldn’t do that. But one day, she would have to tell him about Julienne, otherwise a life together would be impossible. There were a lot of things you could sweep under the carpet, but a daughter wasn’t one of them.

“Around a week before we met for the first time, I was in Rome,” she said. “I was wandering around on my own. I found a party. There was a young couple there. We talked for a while and I went home with them.”

David raised his eyebrows, bringing his glass to his lips. A moped whizzed past at high speed. The street smelled of gasoline. Somewhere, a dog was barking.

“It was fascinating to be so close to two people who were so in love, and somehow, to become part of their love. It was the most intimate thing I’ve experienced. Making love with another woman’s man while she watched. Do you understand?”

David looked at her seriously.

“I think so.”

A couple passed them, hand in hand. They were wearing workout clothes.

“It was so clear they were doing it for each other’s sake. That I was an instrument of their pleasure. A way to give each other pleasure. It was a new and special feeling. Almost an out-of-body experience.”

Faye sighed. The watch glittered on David’s wrist and he kept glancing at it in delight. But for some reason she felt sad. Although she knew she ought to be happy, the melancholy was powerful.

“We women are raised to be so afraid that someone is going to steal our man—our partner—so we limit ourselves. We remain constantly vigilant for any sign of betrayal. I’m never going to live like that again. I was betrayed by Jack, but I’m going to trust you. That’s my choice. Otherwise I’m committing violence on my own life. Limiting it. I hope you never let me down, but that’s on you—not me.”



He fumbled for her hand, concealing it in his own.

“I’m not going to let you down, Faye.”

The glow from the candle was reflected in the watch on his wrist. Faye squeezed his hand tightly. She wanted him as a safe harbor in which to rest—a refuge where she didn’t have to think about everything else she was grappling with. But if she was serious about letting him into her life, he had to know more about what was going on.

She took a deep breath. It was time.

“Someone is trying to buy out Revenge. And that someone is alarmingly close to succeeding.”





FJ?LLBACKA—THEN

I had left my shoes somewhere in the cabin. When the boys finally let me out, I just wanted to get away from there. So I stumbled out into the dusk and across the rocks barefoot.

Roger, Tomas, and Sebastian dragged the luggage—now significantly easier to handle since the heaviest thing, the beer crate, was almost empty. I walked at the back of the column. Ahead of me, their broad, tanned backs jogged along. At the beginning, the plan had been to go home earlier, while it was still light. But they had insisted on staying a bit longer. And given that I was locked in the cabin, it didn’t much matter what I thought about it.

Over the past forty-eight hours, they had come in to see me whenever it pleased them—always all of them together. Never one by one. After the third time, I stopped protesting—I just lay there and let them do what they wanted.

My body ached. It was bloodied and stank of cum, sweat, and beer. It was a constant battle not to throw up.

“It was more fun when she put up a fight,” Roger had said when I parted my legs for him.

They never spoke directly to me. Not when they were raping me. Not before or after either. Instead, they talked to each other about me as if I were a loyal, long-serving pet.

I barely felt any joy when they let me out and said it was time to go home.

They had already packed. All I had to do was plod along behind them.



The dinghy was tied up where we had left it and they loaded the stuff aboard. The atmosphere was different now. Surly. Inflammable. I kept quiet so as not to further irritate them. To avoid drawing their ire.

After having breathed the rotten stench of the cabin for two days, tasting the sea air was like new life.

I looked toward the rocks and trees from my position at the back of the dinghy. I thought to myself how different they looked now compared with when I had arrived. It wasn’t just the light, it was also that I—the observer—was a different person.