Silver Tears(74)

The story that had begun at the Stockholm School of Economics so many years ago was over. The one that had brought her tears. Thoughts of suicide. Humiliation. Abortion. The women he had cheated on her with. But it had also brought her Julienne, the takeover of Compare, the creation of Revenge. Her liberation. Was there anyone more free than a person who had been imprisoned? How else could you recognize the scent of freedom? A person could be someone else’s prison—their rage or contempt could be the shackles that kept them fettered.



Faye grabbed Jack’s wrists and dragged the heavy body across the threshold and into the living room. His head hit the floor.

Jack was left in the middle of the floor while Faye, panting with effort, sat down on the sofa and looked at his body. She got up. She went over to him and kicked him. The sound was muffled. No reaction. She took aim. Kicked him again. Thought about the pictures of Julienne on Jack’s computer. His face when she gave him the plastic wallet with the photo.

She leaned over the dead body.

“You should have let me go. You shouldn’t have been so stubborn. So proud. You should never have humiliated me. Used my daughter to threaten me. And you should never, ever have done what you did to Julienne.”

Faye got to her feet. She picked up the jerry can, stood behind Jack, and unscrewed the cap. She moved in parallel with his body, drenching his clothing in gasoline.

Then she opened the door, lit a match, and let it fall. The next second, fire exploded next to Jack’s body.





FJ?LLBACKA—THEN

I caught a whiff of the familiar smell of smoke from Sebastian’s bedroom and heard the clanking of bottles. He was playing music at a low volume so that Dad didn’t wake up. Mom had just gotten home. Yet again, she’d been driven to the hospital by Dad. With excuses about having fallen down the steps, slipped, gosh she was clumsy, so unfortunate. Excuses that no doctor could reasonably believe, but that no one dared to question.

Mom had made the mistake of saying she was planning to visit her brother Egil, and Dad had pushed her down the stairs right from the landing. Time was beginning to run out. Dad’s rage was escalating. This time she had landed on her arm—next time she might land on her head, and then I would be alone for real.

It was just after midnight now. Mom and Dad were asleep. He was always a bit calmer just after Mom had come back from the hospital. I knew I’d never get a better chance.

I wanted to protect Mom. I didn’t care what Dad felt. I’d deal with him later.

I slammed the book shut and placed my bare feet on the floorboards. I had already planned how I would act, what I would do. I put on the thin white nightie that I knew Sebastian liked. I had noticed that he couldn’t keep his eyes off me when I wore it. I found the three sleeping pills I had stolen from Dad and crushed into a powder three days earlier.

I left my room and took a deep breath before knocking on his door.



“What is it?”

I pressed the handle down and stepped inside.

He was sitting at his desk, but he spun around and stared at me. His turbid eyes caught sight of my bare legs and slowly worked their way up.

“I was thinking about what you said.”

Sebastian furrowed his brow. The black eye from the last time Dad had hit him was very prominent.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“At the party in the forest. About me liking it when you all did me. You were wrong.”

“Oh?” he said indifferently, turning back to the screen.

I took a step into the room, standing below the bar that was positioned above the door for pull-ups. I’d never seen him use it.

On the walls, there were posters of scantily clad women with boobs spilling out of tiny pieces of fabric. The room was untidy, with plates of leftover snacks, heaps of clothes everywhere, and a musty smell of sweat and rotten food. I wrinkled my nose in disgust.

I carefully put the small bag onto the floor and shoved it with my foot so that it ended up in a corner.

“I didn’t like it when they did it with me. But I like it when you do it with me.”

He froze.

“Do you want me to leave?” I said. “Or is it okay if I stay awhile? Mom and Dad are asleep.”

He nodded, not looking at me. I interpreted that as meaning that he wanted me to stay.

“Can I have a beer?”

“They’re warm.”

“That doesn’t matter.”

He lay down on his front by the bed, reached underneath with his hand, and produced a bottle. He opened it and passed it to me. He still had the scars on his arm from the time Dad had cut him with a broken bottle.



I sat down on the edge of the bed and he sat down next to me. We each took a swig in silence. I glanced at his bottle. It was almost empty. Before long, he’d want another. That was when I’d have to add the sleeping pills. Four empties were standing on the desk, and I hadn’t heard him go to the bathroom even once.

It would soon be time. Best to be ready.

“Do you like it when I struggle?” I asked softly.

His face went red, his gaze fixed to the wall.

“I don’t know,” he said.

His voice was thick.

“I just want to know what you like, what’s best for you. You can do whatever you want to me.”

“Mm.”