By Camilla Grebe, Åsa Träff
Its arainy night in a Stockholm suburb and five-year-old Tilda is hiding less than thekitchen desk fidgeting with her crayons whilst a guy enters and beats her motherto demise in chilly blood. the one witness, Tilda cant fairly see the assassin orfigure out who he's. yet shes nonetheless a witness.
Acrosstown, Siri Bergman and her ally, Aina, are helping their outdated pal Vijaywith a examine undertaking on household abuse. They host a weekly self-help groupfor survivors, and over the process numerous darkish, wet evenings, those womenshare their tales of very unlikely love, violence, and humiliation. while theboyfriend of 1 of the ladies seems to be a primary suspect in a high-profilemurder case, it isnt lengthy prior to Siri unearths herself embroiled in theinvestigation. yet as she attracts toward discovering the assassin, unexpecteddevelopments in her personal existence strength her to ask yourself: Can she learn how to belief a managain despite being surrounded by way of girls who've been so deeply betrayed bylove?
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Extra info for More Bitter Than Death: A Novel
Eddie finished dressing, then finished the beer. I found a pen and wrote my address down. ” He took the slip of paper, put it in his pocket and walked out the door. That’s about all there was to that reading except I met Slim de Bouffe and his girlfriend in this bar later, they were going to get me to the airport and I told them the story as we drank green beer in a place they were mopping up with a very strong disinfectant and we almost vomited together. ” asked de Bouffe. “I couldn’t take him,” I answered.
She said. ” “My son, Gary,” said Mrs. LeMon, sitting down. ” “I told you he’s competent. ” “You’re not. ” “Pull your dress higher. ” Mrs. LeMon pulled her dress higher. Harry bent down and kissed one of her knees. Then he spread her legs and bit her hard four or five inches above the knee. ” “I told you to go in and piss. ” Harry put the bottle down and slapped Mrs. LeMon across the face, hard. “Oh, don’t do that . ” “I told you what to do! ” Mrs. LeMon went to the bathroom. Harry finished his beer and brought out two more, opened them, put them on the coffee table.
Harry walked into the bedroom. It was dark in there. But he did have his drink with him. He finished his drink and rolled the glass across the rug. He unlaced his shoes and stretched out on the bed. It was one of those neighborhoods where you could hear the crickets rubbing their legs together. He listened to the rubbing of the legs. It made things seem fairly all right. Then he wondered, should I take this stuff off and wait for her or should I let her undress me? It was the first bit of uncalculated, mathematical wisdom he had come upon in some days of weeks, but he still hoped she’d bring one last good drink.
More Bitter Than Death: A Novel by Camilla Grebe, Åsa Träff