When the black man is finished, the other man takes over. He doesn’t use his cock though. He uses a frighteningly big dildo. I peer closer. The dildo is studded. A mad giggle escapes my lips.
The man shakes his head and begs for mercy. Well, well.
They untie him and make him sign a letter. I cannot see what he is putting his scribble to, but he signs it with a shaking hand.
Then they beat him so mercilessly I hear the sound of bone crunching.
Ah well, Karma. It’s a bitch.
I sit through another five little clips. Two of the faces I cannot remember, and that bothers me. Just imagine if I had been in a shop or some other public place and they had come in, I would have had no idea they were rapists. I would have spoken to the bastards normally. Why, they even looked like decent blokes.
At the end there is a template copy of the letters all the men have signed.
Dear Friends and Family,
Last summer, five other sickening perverts and I met in London to gang rape a drugged, innocent nineteen-year old girl in a hotel room.
I am sending you this letter so you know the real me.
Yours sincerely,
Then the video cuts to the impassive man saying that the letter and a copy of the recording have been hand-delivered to the men’s families, and an email sent to every single person, even takeaway addresses on their phones and email list.
I close the screen and feel a strange sense of lightness. In this unfair, cruel world where the poor and the helpless always get trodden on, Shane found my justice for me. With a sigh of contentment I get up and go into the kitchen.
Shane is standing by the kitchen sink looking out of the window. When he hears me, he turns and looks at me. For a moment I do not recognize him. It is shocking that someone as beautiful as he is could ever be so cruel. I feel the same way I felt when I saw a lion killing a poor impala. How could such a beautiful beast do that? And then he smiles at me and I recognize him. He is my beautiful beast.
‘Are you OK?’ he asks.
I nod. ‘Thank you for the black roses,’ I say quietly.
‘It was a pleasure.’
I walk up to him. We are accomplices. We are now bonded by revenge and blood. ‘How did you find them?’
‘Lenny had the surveillance tapes the whole time.’
I gasp with the stab of pain. ‘I trusted him,’ I whisper.
‘I know, but you were so traumatized you would have believed anything.’
‘I’m a fucking bad judge of character, aren’t I? Again and again I trust scum,’ I say bitterly.
‘No, you’re not. You’re beautiful. If only the whole world would be as innocent and trusting as you, then it would be an unrecognizable, beautiful place.’
I look up at him. Sometimes I still can’t believe he is really mine. ‘Oh, Shane. You did all that for me. Have I ever told you you’re my hero?’
He grins. ‘A gypsy hero? Does such a beast even exist?’
‘Yes, it does. I caught one.’
He laughs. ‘Let’s have a drink. Let’s drink to those men’s poor wives and children.’
So we drink ourselves silly and then I say in a slurred, slutty voice, ‘I have a present for you too.’
And he grins. ‘Oh yeah?’
‘It’s in the bedroom. I’ll just go and get it.’
‘I’ll be waiting right here,’ he says, plumping the cushions behind him and settling down.
I go into the bedroom and quickly undress. Naked, I get into high heels and wrap a big red ribbon around myself and tie a huge bow at my waist. Then I walk out to the living room.
‘Here’s your present,’ I say.
And I swear I see forever in his eyes.
SHANE
Christmas Day
Liliana is sitting on my lap and telling me tales tall enough to make any full-blooded gypsy proud.
‘Santa came to my house, you know,’ she says importantly, ‘because I’ve been a very, very, very good girl.’ She drops her voice to a hoarse whisper. ‘I saw him.’
I keep my face straight. ‘You saw him?’
‘Yup.’ Her eyes are huge.
‘When?’
She fingers a bow on her dress. ‘Last night. I saw him eat two cookies and drink half of the milk that I put out for him.’
‘Wow,’ I say in an impressed voice. ‘Did he say anything to you?’
‘No,’ she says shaking her head vigorously. ‘I was hiding behind the door.’
‘Why didn’t you show yourself?’
‘I didn’t want to frighten him, Uncle Shane,’ she says as if that is the most obvious thing in the world.
‘Anyway,’ she carries on, ‘he left three presents. Two for me because I’ve been so good, and one for Laura because she’s just a little baby and babies just need milk.’