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His eyes were what I always loved most about him.
They reminded me of how I used to dive headfirst into the awful romance novels I had loved so dearly, waiting for my imaginary prince with hazel sun-kissed eyes to take me out of my dreary, artificial reality. I scoffed to myself.
I stared at my husband's flaccid, vulnerable form on the hospital bed, listening to the steady beat of the heart monitor and the beeping machinery. Caleb hadn't moved in three days since the car crash and bile rose in my throat as a perverse satisfaction pulsed through me at that thought.
I used to believe the gold flecks in his hazel eyes told me the sun was in his eyes like a divine gift. It always seemed that he saw the world bathed in fiery hues, I mused, and it allowed him to see rays of sunshine emanating from every person.
I almost wish I could see his eyes now beneath his scarred lids.
"Call me Blaze." He'd say. "It suits me. Totally wicked name, too." It was all too fitting.
But it was a different kind of fire lingering in his amber-flecked eyes. The kind that makes naive children quarrel over plastic jewels and the one that made kings lust after gold, not knowing that the empire was at their hands without it.
Tears slid down my face for his flames. They slid into my heart and extinguished the flame he burned me with, leaving the dying embers of his toxic influence and a hydrated hope.
I clasped his hand. Even in sleep, he is beautiful. Beauty is such a spurious companion.

~~~~
2 hours later...

Against my will, my wedding vows sprung into my mind, the minister preaching in a weary monotone which bespoke of his elderly age. "In sickness and in health, you will stand by his soul."
There had been a gorgeous joy in me as the priest uttered those words. Knowing that I could be there for Blaze, everyday, every moment and he could do the same for me. I'd thought he was my rock, my compass towards an inner haven. Doubt crept in as his words came back to me. He screamed, "He's not your best friend. I'm your best friend. Forget about him. I need you. Please. Do this." It was never a question. Blaze was power and control, a rock on the mountaintop.

~~~
3 hours later...

I toyed with my wedding ring. Diamonds were just so deceitful when what they stand for had long gone. Raking my fingers through my hair, I winced. I could still feel the pain from only days ago. He'd never hit me before that. I didn't even register my throbbing eye, only the faded pulse of dying love and tempestuous flashes of light before I heard the crash.

~~~
4 hours later...

I don't cry anymore. There's no point in mourning. I listen to the cacophony of life and death as they wrestle within me. The life in me I lost. The death of our past together. I wouldn't take it anymore. I listened to the clock tick.
4 years falling in love with the wrong guy, enduring his abuse.
4 hours to mourn him, to find myself.
4 seconds to take back my life, to leave it all behind, to light my own fire and watch it burn.