He had been beaten, whipped, tread upon, and undergone the most immense brands of torture. One thing was a testament to his will, though: Charley shed no tears. As much as the waterworks begged to leak from his eyes, he would never give in. He bottled it, corked the top, and threw it out to sea – even in the most intimate of settings such as this. Leyla and Charley embraced on the couch and this defeated boy had poured out his heart through the course of the evening without so much as a sob.
He didn’t need to. She was crying enough for the both of them.
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