• It was a horrid, cruel thing. She held the truth in her hands and there was nothing she could do with it but hide it against her breast and try not to notice how it slowly stole away all her life and warmth. With a soft sigh she turned away from the mirror and looked to her husband.

    Dear, sweet Damien, he looked so peaceful in sleep. Right now, it was so easy for her to pretend that he was still the kind and gentle man that she once knew. No matter she tried not to she could still see it. They were clean now, but the blood on his delicate hands still glowed harshly against the candlelight of her mind. It was not the first time and it would not be the last.

    There were many times that she had considered turning him in but she never could. Part of her still needed to know why he did this; the rest still loved him. Her will power would shatter when he held her close and whispered how it would be all over soon, and that it was worth it and how he loved her so. For so long she had believed him, her dear, sweet Damien. She didn't think she could anymore.

    It used to be so easy to pretend that none of it was real. It was impossible, her suspicions were grounded in unreality. They were merely the imaginations of a shy and lonely wife dreaming up excitement for herself born from reading too many silly books. She made a greater effort to call on the neighbours and to go out to the theatre with friends. The mask she drew herself was mild yet cordial and utterly flawless. Even Damien seemed happier.

    But earlier this evening the bedroom door had exploded open and broken her heart. Damien stood in the hallway chest heaving and blood dripping from his fingertips. He marched past her without a word and began to clean up in the basin by the window.

    Working against her heart hammering in her throat, she summoned the courage to ask what had happened. Damien whirled to face her. "It's nothing that you need to worry your pretty little head over my dear," he said, his voice impossibly steady. Ice flooded her veins. The smile that had first stolen her heart remained but it did not reach his eyes. They were empty and devoid of all that made him human. The hear that pounded through her was nothing compared to the sorrow that crushed her soul. She knew once and for all that the man she had married was dead.

    "But darling," she protested as a last ditch attempt at denial. A tiny glimmer of hope quivered in her breast. It was immediately squashed.

    "I said it was nothing Annabelle!" His voice had a cruel timber that she had never heard before. "Will you please listen to me for once? I've just removed another obstacle from out path. We're once step closer to the happiness you deserve. Please don't cry."

    "Oh Damien," she had murmured as she went to him. "Let's get you cleaned up."

    Not another word had been uttered all night. Annabelle had helped him wash and Damien had gone to bed. Silently she wondered at his ability to sleep soundly after everything that had happened, after everything he had done. Annabelle knew she wouldn't be getting any sleep that night nor indeed for many nights to come. All she could do was watch the steady rise and fall of his chest. In the crystalline silence, she could almost hear his heartbeat.

    Where they were going to go from here Annabelle had no idea. All she knew was that nothing was ever going to be the same. Her worst fears had been realized. For a fleeting moment she contemplated fleeing into the night and never looking back. But in her heart she knew that she wouldn't leave. She had sworn for better or for worse on the day of their wedding. Though she could not imagine worse than this she would stand by that vow.

    She stood from the vanity and sat on the edge of the bed they had shared so many nights before. She reached up with practiced hands and removed the pins from her hair. Ebony locks spilled over her shoulders as Annabelle leaned in to kiss her husband. As her lips ghosted across his, Damien shifted in his sleep and sighed her name. Annabelle's heart imploded at the sound.

    Downstairs, the door crashed open. Annabelle started and hurriedly blew out the candle. Damien was sitting up, now wide awake. All she could see was his silhouette against the window frame. He grabbed her shoulder and squeezed painfully. "Why are they here?" He hissed angrily. Annabelle could only squeak, her voice appeared to have fled in terror. "You b***h!" Lights exploded in front of her eyes as as Damien's hand collided painfully with the side of her head.

    "You told them didn't you?"he demanded. There was no more love in his voice. It had been replaced by something far darker and more evil. Annabelle didn't even fight back as his hands closed around her delicate neck. It didn't matter anymore. It was a stranger kneeling over her now. It was too dark to see his face but Annabelle doubted she would even recognize the twisted expression she somehow knew she would find.

    The bedroom door opened, bathing them in eerie lantern light just as her vision began to darken. There was shouting but she could not make out the words. The sound of gunfire as she drew her last and her heartbreak fell against her.

    All that was left was regret.