She'd been behaving differently for ages.

Long bouts of sadness followed by incredible highs; there was definitely a cycle of ups and downs that no one had noticed earlier on.

Sometimes the lows would go on for days, if not weeks. Nothing could seem to get her interested in the games she used to play, the foods that used to be special treats.

She'd spend hours stretched out on the couch. The television would be on, but she'd not be paying any attention. Instead, her eyes would dart from the windows to the door, every now and then straying to follow shadows and listen to whispers that may not have been there at all.

In her manic phase, she'd be incredibly animated. She'd jump up from that sofa, run around the house, begging to be seen and heard. Her voice would sing, and her breath would be ragged. It was truly a sight to behold, in that most joyous of joys.

It took almost two years to notice a pattern.

In the beginning of those two years, the whispers were thought to be imaginary.

Turns out, they were just hard to hear.

It was late October, or maybe the first of November, when Margaret heard him speak.

"Hey, girl."

Just that. Nothing more, and the reaction was instantaneous. Like a switch had been thrown, she'd leapt up and began dancing with excitement. Her voice elevated as surely as her mood; there was wordless song and boundless joy.

These fits of happiness would last anywhere from minutes to hours, and everyone who witnessed them couldn't help but smile.

When Sadie danced, the world danced with her.

When Sadie smiled, the world grinned.

His girl would instantly brighten, and people who've never lived with a dog can't possibly comprehend their capacity to smile.

Margaret was the woman of his dreams, but now she is his widow. Sadie was and will always be his best girl. She was a rescue, more Heinz than Golden, but they were 57% sure she had Retriever running through her veins. Sadie had been with him since before the wedding, long before the funeral. He used to joke that he wasn't sure who rescued whom.

The incredible thing is, for the last two years, Sadie has still been playing with her master.

It never occurred to Margaret to be afraid. She would cry and she would laugh as that big, adorable mutt jumped on the furniture, chasing a man years gone, but impossibly here.

"I love you," she once managed to choke during a Sadie celebration.

Tail wagging, the dog came up to her and put her head in the widow's lap.

"I know," the room whispered, and for the first time in months, Margaret laughed.

Sitting in the interrogation room I wonder where it all went wrong. He was the man of my dreams. Our wedding day was perfect, these last few years were perfect. I never could have guessed it would end like this. He wasn’t who I though he was. I should’ve never opened that door. I mean the only rule that my husband had for me was to not go into the closet in the hall. I should have listened. I hear the door open, and two men walk into the room and sit down.

“You are aware that you can have a lawyer present as we question you, correct?” one of the men asks me and in nod in response. He pushes a voice recorder to me and says, “we need a verbal confirmation for the record.”

“Yes, I understand.” The man who spoke finally looks up at me.

“I’m agent Robertson this is agent Knox. Were you aware of what your husband was keeping in the linin closet in your home?” he looks at me and I shake my head.

“Again, we need a verbal confirmation or denial.”

“No, I wasn’t aware there was a...” I can’t finish my sentence as I start sobbing. I am disgusted by what I had found. I am disgusted at my husband. Agent Robertson nods his head and writes something in a notebook. The men ask me a few more questions but I don’t fully answer. I can’t believe this. I need to know why. Why he did this. I need to know if he truly loved me or if I was just a cover story.

“I would like to talk to my husband.” I lookup at the men and they look at each other concern filling both of their eyes. “I need to know why.”

“Mrs. Most people like him never have a reason why they do what they do. “

“I don’t care I need to talk to him.” The agents nod at each other and stand up.

“We will see if we can get you in there.” Agent Knox tells me.

“Thank you.”

A few hours later the door opens, and an officer leads me to another door. As I walk in, I see my husband sitting in a chair, handcuffed to the table.

“Leslie.” I hear my husband laugh as he says my name. I sit down in the chain across from him.

“Why?”

“Why what Les?” he asks me, and I shake my head.

“You know exactly what I want to know.”

“I really don’t darling.” He chuckles and rage fills me.

“Why the fuck was there a human hanging up in our closet!” I yell at him and start crying. An officer opens the door and starts to walk me out of the room when I hear him mutter something.

“What was that you bastard?” I yell at him

He laughs and, in a voice I’ve never heard. he said, “She was my toy, my puppet. Just like you.”

Eyes.

His gorgeous hazel eyes.

I fell in love with them,

Every time they looked at me,

even a glare,

I felt my heart light up.

Hazel.

The color of wood,

The wood planks on our new home.

Our new home.

Cold, Creaky, old home.

In the middle of the woods,

It was always dark and cold.

Cold.

The way he treated me.

The way he talked to me when I smiled at him.

Smile.

He only ever smiled once,

At our wedding.

I was so full of love,

I didnt notice how strangely happy he was,

saying he never was happy.

Happy.

I haven't been happy in years.

He says I can't be happy and pretty.

I have to pick,

a choice that decides if he loves me.

Choice.

The choices I made.

I chose to marry a cold-hearted man,

my mother warned me,

She told me I was wrong.

Wrong.

Something was wrong,

I knew from the moment he walked in,

Big bag over his shoulder,

smiling ear to ear.

Smiling.

He walked towards the basement stairs,

Smiling.

"Stay upstairs honey!"

He yelled as he walked downstairs.

Strange.

Strange.

The way he acted after he came upstairs.

He told me he loves me,

He kissed me.

He's only ever done that at our wedding.

The only time he smiled.

Smile.

He smiled the next day as he led me downstairs,

where he had gone straight to the night before.

He tells me he has a surprise.

Surprise.

I remember my first surprise gift from him.

It was a stuffed animal and chocolates.

A surprise to show his love.

I wonder if that's what this is,

a calm, loving surprise.

Calm.

I'm not calm,

My hands are sweaty,

my heart is racing.

I'm scared.

Fear.

What raced into my body within seconds,

Seconds of seeing what he had done.

Blood.

The basement was covered in blood.

Bloody parts,

Pieces of those I love.

Scream.

I scream.

His hazel eyes stare at me confused.

He tells me it's good,

i'll always have them to visit.

Punch.

I punch and kick and scream.

I hate this man,

and his big hazel eyes.

Hazel.

The color of bark.

Bark.

The bark on the tree,

the tree I buried his Hazel eyed corpse under.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////

-Katherine <3

Oh he was gorgous as could be. Seeing my silhouette in his eyes, feeling the breeze graze my white gown with life, and the kiss. The kiss every woman dreams about, wishing they had never woken. The kiss that elopes two and makes one love shatterproof.

This was our beginning, our bond, our everlasting companionship. We spent the rest of our days laughing. We spent the rest of our weeks running off and adventuring. We spent the rest of our months moving and making a place of our own. We spent the rest of our years starting a family. And, at last, we had our last breaths beside one another knowing this is the only life we would ever want to live.

You see, this is what I would have told my children. This is what I would have bragged about with my friends. This is the life I would have chosen over any other. But, I never had kids of my own. I never settled in and called one place home. I never explored and seen the world outside the one I grew up in. I never even laughed.

I lay here, coins over my eyes. Back aching from the stren wood I rest on. Lungs empty with no air to take in. And six feet of dirt to keep me in place.

He was gorgous as could be, but he was also more dangerous than ever. I made my mistake. I put myself into this grave. I married the man that put two bullets in my head. I never made it through my own honeymoon.

I wrote our story before our paths ever crossed.

It would be love at first sight. You’d sweep me off my feet with flowers and dinners, visits to museums and the ballet, symphonic concerts, a Broadway play or two. You’d be a deep thinker, a voracious reader, and, most importantly, a family man.

And one day, there you were.

“Jay,” you said, taking the empty seat next to mine. I looked up from the book I was reading and felt a physical jolt of recognition though we'd never met.

“Hey, Jay,” I replied, returning to my book.

You waited a moment or two before saying, “And you are?”

“Studying for my macroeconomics midterm.”

“It's like that, huh?”

“What? Oh, I'm sorry. Linda.”

“Linda,” you said, putting out your hand, “Nice to meet you.”

My hand was engulfed by yours as I murmured, ”Me, too.” You held on a little longer than normal, staring into my eyes, smiling slightly. I felt my heart picking up speed and I pulled my hand back, saying,”I really do need to study.”

“Can I take you out Saturday night? Dinner?”

“I don't know you.”

“That's how we get to know each other, Linda.”

I loved how you said my name. You made it sound exotic though I'd always found it boring.

“Where are you from, Jay?”

“Army brat. Never any place too long. I guess I'm from DC. I've been here longer than anywhere else since I came here for college and stayed.”

“Oh, you're not a student?” As I looked more closely, I realized you were older than most of the others in the library. “Are you a professor?”

“Ha, no. Professors often hit on you?”

“Is that what you’re doing?”

“Well, I am here to do research but then I saw you and I had to come over and introduce myself to the most beautiful woman in the library.”

“Oy. Give me a break. I have work to do,” I said, returning to my book.

“Don't be like that. I'm sorry. Let me start over. I work in intelligence and I was about to do some research when I saw you. I couldn't not say hello.”

I smiled without looking up. “Better.”

“Saturday?”

“What time?”

“7:00?”

“Okay. I'll meet you in front of the library.”

“I'll be counting the days! Wear something fancy!” You said before heading for the stairs down to the microfiche department.

You took me to a four-dollar-sign Italian restaurant where I had my first lobster and the most delicious red wine I’d ever tasted. We walked hand in hand from Dupont Circle to the campus. It was cold, but I didn’t feel it. You kissed me goodnight at the door to my building. I felt every nerve ending in my body spark. I fell asleep smiling.

Every weekend thereafter was a gastronomic feast from some other international cuisine. You even cooked for me a few times, dishes you’d learned while living abroad, you said. You came to my spring musical and choral concerts. One weekend, we flew up to New York, seeing two musicals and hearing the NY Philharmonic play Rachmaninoff. Another weekend we spent hours at the MOMA and the MET. You took my mom and me out for Mother’s Day brunch. You bought her flowers. She didn’t hate you - which was as much as we could ask for since I was an only child; her baby.

I was in love.

The night of my graduation ball, you got down on one knee in the middle of the dance floor, and proposed and I thought, life begins now.

Within a year, we were married and living in your beautiful home in Georgetown.

It was then that I discovered you had a temper and very firm feelings about a woman’s place in the home. You wanted the house spotless, your meals at specific times and you didn’t want me to work. I had always planned on having a career, but I’d also always wanted to be a stay at home mom, so I didn’t fight you. I figured I’d be pregnant soon anyway since you didn’t believe in birth control and you wanted sex three times a day. At least. You said you were making up for all the months of waiting until we were married. That made me happy even if the sex was…overwhelming.

Within two years, I had been to the emergency room five times. Twice losing our babies due to trauma to the abdomen. But you were so good and kind and loving most of the time, I convinced myself I had caused your momentary lapses that ended with you crying, taking me to the hospital and lying to the nurses and doctors.

No one believed you.

For our third anniversary, you said we needed to spice up our love life. You took me to a hunting cabin in Virginia that I didn’t know you owned. I thought it was terribly romantic, surrounded as it was by woods, with a stream near enough that I could hear the soothing sounds of the water from every room.

“What’s that sound?” I asked as we walked into the cabin.

“I don’t hear anything,” you said, shutting the door and throwing the latch. You grabbed me and pushed me against the door, thrusting your tongue in my mouth and grinding your hips into mine.

I kissed you back but apparently I lacked the requisite passion.

You pushed me away from the door and said, “I’m going out.”

You were gone for hours, so I went to bed and fell asleep soothed by the sounds of the stream.

I woke up to you thrusting away at some other woman in the bed next to me.

“Are you out of your mind?” I screamed.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” you said, rolling off of her and on to me.

At which point I realized she was gagged; her hands were tied to one bed post. Mine to the other.

“Jay!” I screamed.

“I’ve missed this,” he murmured.

“Stop it, Jay! Get off me, right now! Untie me!”

“Shut up! You’re my wife!”

“There is a woman gagged and tied to our bed who you were just fucking next to me,” I tried to buck you off with my body. You punched me in the face. You’d never punched me where it would show before. I tasted blood.

“She likes to be tied up. She likes to be punched and bitten and choked. She’s not all no, don’t do that Jay oh, no I don’t like that, Oh Jay do we have to, tonight. I say open your legs, she says how wide. And when I’m done I can leave her on the side of the road or out in the woods, depending on how rough it gets. No one’s gonna miss her.”

“What?” I screeched.

You flipped me over and pressed my head into the pillow as you entered me from behind.

“Yeah, Linda. That day we met in the library? I was looking for my next guest at the cabin. But I found you. Something clicked. This is my forever woman, I said to myself. But I still found someone to take the edge off that day. She lasted at least four days.” You paused. “Yeah, I got rid of the body just before I picked you up for dinner at Luigi’s.”

Oh my god, I thought to myself. I’ve married a psychopath.

“And then I went on a diet. I said to myself, I’m going to be a one woman man. I don’t need anyone else.

“But, I was wrong.” You came and pulled out of me. “I need more, Linda. I thought you would be enough. But you’re like all the others.”

“All the others???” I was curled as far away from you as possible, huddled by the bedpost.

“Yeah. I wish it would have worked out. I really liked you.”

“Liked?!”

“Yeah, well, lusted after isn’t strong enough and loved is overused.”

“Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll let you go. But if you tell anyone about what I’ve told you, I will have to kill you.”

And to emphasize your point, you grabbed a hunting knife from I don’t know where and slit the woman’s throat.

“She’s nobody. You’re my wife. I don’t want to hurt you. Don’t make me hurt you. Okay, Linda?”

I nodded. You cut the ropes tying me to the bed.

“Go get cleaned up. I’ll take care of this.”

I took a very long shower. When I got out, you still weren’t back.

I sat on the couch. When you walked in, I shot you with the hunting rifle I found in the closet.

I stepped over your body and went home.

The police never found you.

It’s been five years now. I don’t think they’re looking anymore.

Sophia was the cautious type of woman but she wasn't always this way. Her childhood years were more carefree and wild however with the passage of time and the worsening crime stories on the printed press and the television media, her fears of living in society grew making her that way. Needless to say, when different social media platforms became a hit for her other middle-aged friends to get the tea on the neighbours and others' dirty laundry, she didn't think so fondly of it. In fact, she was skeptical and hesitant but somehow, she got roped into it

- let's just say the devil was busy that day, a popular Trinbagonian saying, that too gained popularity with Sophia and her mother now because it took one link sent from one friend, one app download and one clink that led her to meet, date and eventually marry Darryl. The online Facebook friend. The man whom she thought was the man of her dreams but was merely a fake.

The wedding was fantastic, smooth. She was on cloud nine being surrounded by her loved ones, marrying the man of her dreams. And for a while, it seemed like a wonderful day- dream of sorts but that quickly thereafter changed into a nightmare as she would come to learn.

The sweet, kind, handsome and charming man she knew slowly but surely disappeared. Each time creating a crack in her happiness and self-confidence.

After their honeymoon, however was when the real nightmare began, as Darryl became more moody and distant than after the wedding ceremony, and he would often come home late, claiming he had to work overtime. One day, when Sophia tried to talk to him about it, he brushed her off saying she was overreacting.

He was mad and he made sure she knew that by storming out of the living room into their bedroom then locking the door behind him leaving Sophia to sleep outside. Sophia, convinced it was her fault that he got mad, the next day prepared a surprise dinner for him, which she would drop in at his work office to give to him.

To her shock, she caught him

flirting with another woman, his co-worker. Sophia was heartbroken and confronted him, to which he responded with anger and accused her of being paranoid.

Once they returned home, things only got worse. They got into an argument as Sophia questioned him about the type of relationship he has with that co-worker she witnessed. Darryl snapped. He slapped Sophia across the face, grabbed his jacket from the handle of the metal chair where it had been thrown, got into his car and drove off. He had gone off the grid for days without any calls made to Sophia about his whereabouts or well-being. Sophia was worried sick and when her friends and family started to notice these changes in him and got updated about their situation, they warned her to be careful. That something didn't seem right about him.

But Sophia was still in love with Darryl and refused to believe that he could be capable of anything bad. She convinced herself that he was just going through a rough patch and that things would get better.

But they didn't. Once Darryl returned home after a couple of days, his behavior only became worse. He would come home drunk and angry, and would often lash out at Sophia for no reason. She would try to talk to him, but to no avail as he would refuse to listen and blame her for all their problems.

One day, Sophia came home to find that Darryl had emptied their joint bank account and disappeared without a trace. She was devastated and felt like her entire world had crumbled before her eyes.

It wasn't until the police contacted her that Sophia learned the truth about Darryl. He had been leading a double life, using her for her money, and had been involved in various illegal activities, from gambling to selling drugs to thieving antics. Sophia was shocked and couldn't believe that the man she thought was her soulmate and loved was nothing but a complete stranger.

She realized that she had been blinded by her love for Darryl and had ignored all the red flags. She also realized that her family and friends had been right all along, but she had refused to listen.

Sophia's fairytale wedding was not a fairytale marriage as she had hoped, and she couldn't help but feel like a fool for not seeing the truth sooner. But she also knew that she had to get over it and start a new life without Darryl. Forgive and forget, as the saying goes. She felt hurt and betrayed but she also felt that it would be the best way to move on with her life.

It was a painful lesson, but Sophia learned that sometimes, the person you think you know and love can turn out to be a complete nightmare. And that it's important to listen to the warnings of those who care about you, even if it's hard to hear.

It was just my backyard, but it had been so transformed with flowers and white runners and people in fancy dresses and suits that I hardly recognized it. It felt almost like another world.

I stood in front of a crowd of people that was all big eyes and smiles. I wore a big, poofy white dress that was so tight around my middle I could barely breathe, and the tool skirt felt like sandpaper against my legs. I felt trapped inside it, stuck so tight that I might never be able to get it off.

A man stood next to me, his smile so big it seemed to cover his whole face. He was big, much bigger than me. He wore a cape and held a sword in one hand like a prince, and he pulled me in close with the other.

A priest appeared before us and chanted in a language I didn’t recognize.

Then, I felt cold metal clamp tightly onto my wrist. I stared down at the cuff that linked me to the man before me. “It’s time for the vows. Repeat after me,” the priest said. “With this ring, I promise to be yours and yours alone, for the rest of time.”

No. No! NO! I try to scream, but my voice won’t work. I can’t move. I can’t breathe. The man leans down over me, his hot breath on my face. I can’t step back. I can’t push him away. I can’t do anything. I’m trapped; I’m—

I sit up with a gasp as my mom’s hands shake me awake.

“Sweetie, wake up! It’s just a dream. You’re okay. It was just a dream.”

I let her wrap me in her arms, and I cling to her as I gasp and cry.

“That must have been one scary dream,” she says as she rubs my back. “Want to talk about it?”

“T-they . . . they were gonna make me marry him,” I stutter.

“Who?”

“The prince!”

I can feel my mom’s body shake with laughter. “That was your nightmare?” She shakes her head as she lays me back down. “Most kids get nightmares about monsters. My kid gets nightmares about Prince Charming.”

I catch his eye from across the room of our 11th grade English class. Butterflies emerge in my stomach making me wonder if it's anxiety or the beginning of a crush. For the next few weeks our eyes find each other everywhere: the hallway, the lunchroom, class.

I'm sitting in the lunchroom, pretending to listen to my friend rant about her relationship problems. All I can think about is how if I was with him, we would never have those problems. Suddenly my friend stops talking and looks behind me with concealed annoyance. I turn around, feeling the large presence behind me. Butterflies ram into my stomach lining as I look into his eyes.

He lets out a beautiful breathy laugh and asks for my number. I eagerly put it into his phone with shaking hands. I can feel him staring at me with his dark brown eyes. His face has a smile with an emotion I can't quite place. Originally, I believed it held something sinister, but that thought was quickly shooed away as I look into the eyes of the man of my dreams.

Eighteen months pass and things are amazing! My friends try to make me break up with him. They say that he is possessive and aggressive, but they don't know what I know. He's just misunderstood. He comes from a broken and negligent family. it's not his fault that everyone thinks he's weird. Although everyone has their quirks. He's so beautiful that I can overlook them. For one, I'm not allowed near his house. One time I dropped him off after a party because he was in no condition to walk home, and he lashed out at me. He even apologized. It's not his fault though! He's already told me a million times that I'm not allowed near his house and I didn't listen.

I still don't know why my friends freaked out when they saw the bruises. I told them the truth and everything! I told them it was my fault, and they were still mad at the love of my life! From that day on I decided that I don't need to associate myself with people who don't support me and the one I love.

Now it's just Jack and I, and I couldn't be happier. After five years of dating, we get married! It's one of the happiest days of my life! We finally move in with each other. I convinced him to let us move into the house I was never allowed to see. I have no clue why because it was kept very nice. The lawn was mowed, and the gardens were tended to. The inside was even better. It was a beautiful two-story open floor plan. I loved everything about it! The only thing that was bad about the house was the souls that scream in the basement.

Jack held painful eye contact as he told me on the first night in our house together. He told me that this house is the house of a murderer and people would be killed in the basement years ago. He assured me that nothing would hurt me, as long as a I stayed out of the basement. I vowed to him to never even look in the direction of the basement and we laughed it off.

The screams became a source of comfort for me. The nights when there were no screams, I was unable to fall asleep. I know it sounds weird, but it helps to know that someone is there when I go to sleep alone every night. It was something to get used to when Jack started sleeping in the same bed as me and the screaming stopped.

Years pass and we have a beautiful baby girl. Jane, named after my great grandmother who was unidentified in a rollercoaster crash. Her cries were a comfort to me ever since the screaming down below ceased. Maybe that's why I was so concerned when the cries of our baby began to get increasing more muffled and towards the direction of the basement. I slowly got up from bed, heart pounding and breathing rapidly. This was the only time in my life that I feared what my husband may do.

I am not dumb. I know why he didn't sleep in the same bed as me and I know that ghosts aren't real. I know what he did in that basement, and I figured out why I was never allowed over his house when we were younger. I know that my husband was talking about himself when he was referring to that murderer. I just didn't care. I love him too much to let that small thing come in the way of our love. I draw the line when it comes to my baby girl.

For the first time, I defy my husband. I open the door of our basement and the crying ceases with a gurgle. My heart leaps into my throat as I descend the stairs and see the horrible scene in front of me. I look into the eyes of the love of my life and see the same expression that he had when we first met. His sinister gaze meets mine. My eyes travel to the form in his arms. My baby girl's eyes glazed over staring at nothing. A painstaking rage flows through me as I slowly take my baby out of his arms.

I weep once she in lying lifelessly in my grasp. I look into his eyes, and I can't ignore his actions, not this time. I let him kill all of those people because I loved him, but not my daughter. She will never get to grow up and become her own person. The only memory that is left of her is her lifeless body.

The man of my dreams, the murderer I overlooked, my abuser who I loved enough to ignore his fatal flaws, is the killer of our daughter. Somehow, someway, I blink, and my sweet baby is no longer in my hands. She is replaced by the eyes of my husband. One in each hand. I gaze to the floor of the damp basement and see my eyeless husband lying next to our daughter.

The vicious murders didn't matter to me, I never thought he would've killed our daughter too.

I thought I knew the woman I married. We had been friends first, since childhood even, and one night after a few too many shots, she finally confessed her feelings. I was too much of a coward to do it myself, so we spent years unhappy, each too afraid to tell the truth. Did that make me a liar? Was every word I said to her before that night untrue? I think the answer might be yes, but I hate to think of myself that way.

Which brings me back to the present. We had gotten married two years ago, in the forest. Alone. We signed the paperwork and gathered the necessary witnesses in the courthouse. It is a lovely building, but Jennifer's heart belongs to the woods by her old house almost as much as it belongs to me. I hold the beating thing in my hand, still surprised that she had so eagerly given it to me. If that isn't trust, I don't know what is.

And yet, some things still surprise me. In the dim candlelight, I catch glimpses of her ice-blue eyes turning red. She sunburns easily, and almost never goes out except at night. I put it down to the lighting, to her fair skin and Scandinavian heritage. I don't know what she is, but I know I love her. Every odd thing about her. And if someday it comes to pass that she loses control of herself, I will love her from beyond the grave. I will love her pearly white ghost and she will love mine somehow, some way. I truly believe that. She will come back to her senses, of that I am sure. And in her embrace I know I will find something to give my heart to. And if she doesn't love me anymore, I will still have her translucent heart to hold.

So if that day comes to pass, and she sucks the blood from me, at least it will be for her that I bleed. What better way to end my life, then sacrificing it all for my beautiful wife. I can't imagine a better fate, then being the thing she needs for her life to be sustained. Isn't that what it is? Isn't that trust, devotion, love. If that isn't what it means to hold someone's heart and let them hold yours, I don't quite know the meaning of that perfect word, except that people use it to describe this feeling. I would do anything and everything to hold on to her, even when we both have forsaken this flawed earth, lovely as it may be. That is the meaning, as far as I'm concerned. And I hope she loves me like she loves the forest and the sea.

Richard was always considered the most exemplary husband. It was beyond love at first sight, in the sense that I knew I loved him before I even met him. He filled a deep, cavernous hole inside of me that I feared would consume me soon enough. Even now, as we enjoy our wine and laugh in the living room, I feel a sort of nostalgia for what we once were.

He first caught my eye at a mutual friends New Year's Party. The way he walked and talked enthralled me. His handsome face and charming smile were calling to me. He made his rounds in the room, seemingly greeting every table. When he naturally arrived at mine, I knew. We talked all night, stole kisses even before midnight and danced until dawn. We've been inseparable since.

My love for Richard grew rapidly and in between the little things that he did. He reassured me like no other did. He would awake early and make me breakfast before heading out to work. He would help around the house, make sure that everything was always in its place. He helped me throw away an array of items I no longer needed, and that's an insane feat for me, seeing as I don't let go of things easily. He would brush my hair, buy me expensive gifts and my family absolutely adored him. It was obvious he would be an excellent father because quite plainly, he was an excellent person.

In general, he was amazing company. Richard knew how to work a room and make people laugh. He struck up conversation everywhere we went. His utter excitement for life was completely contagious.

Richard also adored animals. It was impossible for him to resist any cuddle with any animal. Should we spot a stray animal, whether it be cats or dogs, they would indeed be coming home with us. Sometimes the house looked like a zoo. Luckily, Richard was so well connected, he would find ever animal loving parents soon enough.

One of the more interesting aspects of Richard's personality was his knack for dancing. He would always incorporate a quick move wherever we were knowing it never failed to make me laugh. A quick foxtrot in line at the grocery store, a swing at the bank, at our own wedding we spent the entire night on the floor.

For the most part, nobody would notice his gentle humming and quick sway, but I always would. The only exception being last month at his annual work Christmas party, when he began his greatest quickstep yet, with his coworker Diana. They tangoed, waltzed and foxtrotted the entire month of January there in his very office. Right under my eyes. Until Richard, being the effortless conversationalist he is, had to keep the dance going by text messages and naked photos. It would be a lie to say I didn't consider looking the other way. Our marriage was too perfect to just throw away. But as I said before, it's very difficult for me to let go.

My perspective of him shifted as quickly as it had first formed. Only now, I see him for what he truly is. A fool. I see him as he waltzes his way to the wine, I poured for him. I see him as he almost completely chugs it and ignores the faint almond scent radiating from it. This bothers me most, as though he needs to be drunk to endure my company. So much so he is mindless when it comes to his drink. Finally, I see him as he begins to writhe in agony. I see him as he takes his final breath and dies. And just as it once was, the hole inside me is empty and filled with something a bit different from love.