If it had been a normal night, if I had been asleep, I wouldn’t have heard them. The screams were too far away, weren’t loud enough to wake me from a typically deep teenage slumber. Later, I would wonder if the cacophony was a regular occurrence. When I’d slept in Freya’s spare bedroom, I had thought I’d heard similar shrieks, but I’d been too drunk and high to know for sure. But this time, I was stone-cold sober. And I could hear Freya screeching.

Panic sent me scrambling out of bed, down the ladder, and out into the night. Luckily, I’d been sleeping in a T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, so I wasn’t streaking across their lawn in pajamas or less. As I hurtled toward the house, I didn’t consider how my appearance at their door in the middle of the night would look. My sole focus was Freya’s anguish. I had to save her from what was clearly an awful fate.

The front door was locked, so I ran up onto the deck where double doors connected it to the kitchen and dining room. Residents of the island were lax about security, but Freya and Max were from the city. They would be in the habit of locking their doors to bar intruders. Had they fallen into complacency? Had a burglar gained access through an open door? A murderer or rapist? As I reached for the handle, I saw them through the glass.

Freya and Max were facing each other in the kitchen. She wore a silky pink robe; he was in a pair of boxer shorts. I watched as Freya smacked her husband across the head. Hard.

“You stupid piece of shit!” she growled. “I fucking hate you!”

She smacked him again. And then again. Max just stood there, accepting her blows, flinching only slightly under the assault. Blood trickled from an angry scratch on his left cheek.

“You ruined everything for me!” Freya screeched. She moved backward, picked up a pottery mug off the counter, and hurled it at her husband with a guttural roar. Her arm was impressive, but Max was quick and agile despite his size. He ducked, and the mug missed him by mere inches. Instead, it hit the cupboard behind him and fell to the floor with a crash.

“You’re a stupid fucking animal!” Freya screamed, grabbing a two-pronged barbecue fork. She drew her arm back, and I didn’t know if she was going to rush at Max and stab him or throw the weapon and impale him. Either way, I couldn’t stand there and watch it happen. I turned the door handle and it gave way.

“Stop!” I shrieked, as I burst into the room.

They both turned toward me, and I saw the shock on their faces. It was quickly replaced by fury on Freya’s, something like shame on Max’s.