Vianne was busy finishing cooking all of the food for when Dante's family would arrive to celebrate her birthday. His parents and his three younger sisters were invited, and she suspected that a couple of Dante's good friends would be coming too.

She sighed as she turned the stove tops off, placing a lid on the pots so that they wouldn't get cold. Then, she grabbed a kettle and filled it with water for tea. She liked to cook, but a part of her didn't expect to cook her own birthday meal - she would much rather eat at a restaurant than have to cook an entire meal for so many guests. Vianne sat down at the kitchen table, her chin resting on the palm of her hand as her thoughts drifted into space.

How could Tom have manipulated his own parents to turn against each other? The question was echoing interminably in her head. Did his parents have any problems in their relationship that Tom didn't mention? Is that what he used to get them to hate each other so strongly? And how did they both end up dying? Vianne rubbed the spot in between her brows with her fingers, closing her eyes as more questions flooded her mind.

A few moments later, the front door opened, and the sound of heavy footsteps filled into the hallway. Through the open entrance of the kitchen, Vianne watched Dante walk into the living room with his phone at his ear. He spoke quietly into the phone, his expression calm and content with whoever he was speaking with. Vianne stood up from her seat and cautiously tiptoed towards the entrance to the living room, her arms hanging by her sides. When Dante took the phone away from his ear and set it down on the coffee table, he sighed and looked back to Vianne with a surprised expression.

"Oh, didn't see you there." Dante muttered, looking back at the large cracks on his phone screen. Vianne shrugged absently, looking to his phone with curiosity.

"Do you want to tell me who you were speaking with?" Vianne questioned.

Dante scowled. "Didn't you learn your lesson the first time you asked me that question? Snooping in people's private business is a real marriage killer, right?"

Vianne rolled her eyes. "Funny, I would think throwing your wife against the wall in a fit of rage would be the thing that kills a marriage."

Dante clucked his tongue, moving past her and into the kitchen. "My family should be coming over in less than half an hour. Maybe try to be less of a bitch when they get here, alright? I really don't want to have to explain myself about our problems with them today."

Vianne took a seat on the sofa, running her hand through her hair as she breathed out a tiresome sigh. "Don't act like an asshole tonight and I think we'll be just fine."

Dante huffed angrily from the kitchen as his gaze trailed over the food Vianne had just finished preparing. His anger depleted from his face as he took a small whiff of the enchiladas and birria cooling on the stove. "At least the food looks pretty damn good. You should've been a chef instead of trying to be a psychologist. Pff, never understood why you went into the social sciences. Were you even any good?"

"I didn't think aiming to be a chef was practical. Psychology was a popular major so I went with it, and most of the things I was learning were interesting." Vianne explained, propping her elbow onto the arm of the sofa.

"Do you even remember anything from those courses?" Dante asked. His tone was entirely rude, but Vianne could tell he was obviously interested to know.

"Just a few fun facts, but not much else. I remember learning that it only takes four minutes for someone to fall in love. I always doubted it was true - I really thought some of the fun facts they were spewing were either basic common sense or completely far-fetched." Vianne said aloud, unsure of why she was talking so casually to Dante when deep down she hated him. She guessed that she simply needed to talk to someone to release some of her stress about work.

"So what, do you still not think it's true?" Dante questioned as he stole a bite of the birria in the pot, slowly making his way back to the living room.

Vianne cringed at the sudden nostalgia she was sinking in, her heartbeat fluttering as the longing for what used to be between them spiraled around her thoughts. "Well-"

Dante's phone vibrated against the glass surface of the coffee table, it's screen lighting up from an incoming call. Aliza, the caller ID read. Vianne looked at it with a puzzled expression, glancing at Dante as he tried to swipe it off the table to hide it from her view. Vianne reflexively grabbed the phone before he could get to it in time and took a couple steps back.

"Who's Aliza?" Vianne questioned, her voice cold. Dante's eyes were lit on fire as he glanced from Vianne to the phone.

"Just give me the damn phone-"

"Who is it, Dante?" Vianne hissed, both of them listening to the phone ring on amidst the tension in the air. Her heartbeat thrummed wildly against her chest as all kinds of suspicions arose from her mind.

Dante clenched his jaw, his shoulders tight and his hands clenched into fists. When Vianne figured he wasn't going to answer her, she pressed the accept button and put Aliza on speaker.

Dante's eyes widened in slight panic, and he took a nervous step towards Vianne.

"Hey Dante, I'm calling again 'cause I've made up my mind now, and I'm sorry it's taken me a long time to work things out, but I just needed to be thorough about it...Dante? You there?" Vianne raised her brow at Dante, nodding her head to signal him to respond to Aliza. Dante worked his jaw, glaring at Vianne as if he wanted to rip her to shreds.

"Yeah, I'm here." Dante grumbled, hiding his eyes from Vianne. Aliza sighed through the speaker.

"I'm sticking with you, Dante. That's my final decision." Aliza said firmly. Dante's mouth curved up into a slight smile before dropping back into a scowl.

"Alright. I'll give you a call later, I'm kind of busy right now." Dante said, anxious to end the call.

"Oh okay, sure. I'll talk to you later then. I love you." Dante swiped the phone from Vianne's hand and hit the decline button, a snarl finding its way on his face.

"God damnit, why the fuck did you-"

Vianne shook her head, her body enveloped in an enraged heat, but she tried her best to keep her composure. "So that's it, huh? You've been seeing someone all this time. That's why you were so complacent when I brought up the divorce, because you knew it would give you an opening to be with her."

Dante was motionless, his glare on her hard and unwavering. When he said nothing, Vianne continued speaking, her hands shaking at her sides as her brown skin flushed a hot red. Her brows furrowed as she tried her best to withhold the angry tears from falling from her eyes.

"And that day...when you picked a fight with your co-worker...I'm starting to think the guy never said a thing to you - you just wanted to beat the shit out of someone because you were pissed off that you were stuck married to me! Is that it? Is that why you suddenly became so violent? Because you can't have this girl for some stupid reason? Answer me!"

"She's married!" Dante shouted, his fury ignited by Vianne's constant yelling. "I couldn't  have her because she's married to a fucking idiot! And now she just called me deciding she wants to go away with me," he paused, shaking his head, "I don't see why I should explain myself to you because you've already made it clear you hate me. Don't be giving me those damn waterworks either because I know for a fact you don't fucking care about me!"

"You're such a piece of shit!" Vianne yelled. At that moment, the tea kettle began making a small screeching noise as smoke arose from the tiny hole in its spout. The two of them ignored its small crying and continued arguing with each other.

"I have a right to be angry with you about this! You've been cheating on me before our fight! And it's embarrassing that all these years I've just ignored all of the bullshit you put me through because I thought deep down we still loved each other - but I was just foolish. You don't love anyone! The only reason you got me to like you was because I was in a shitty time of my life, and you took advantage of that just so you could have someone to control over, someone that wouldn't abandon you. And how'd you get this girl to like you, huh? You know you're just a temporary escape from her husband, right? You're the idiot who believes she actually gives a fuck about you!"

Dante was shaking - his veins throbbing from underneath his skin, and his glare cold and hot at the same time. His expression was pained as he looked at Vianne, his eyes burning with an array of emotions. "She's in love with me-" he tried pleading only to be cut off by Vianne's harsh words.

"No," Vianne hissed, hot tears threatening to spill, "she's not. She just wants another warm body to keep her company, just like you did with me. I'm willing to bet you don't love her either - you just want someone new to control. Everything that you are is pathetic."

The tea kettle screamed louder from the background, its wailing only creating more anxiety in the room. Dante's warm skin was slicked with hot sweat, his entire demeanor dipped in molten lava as he took a malevolent step towards her. He was so close to her that Vianne could smell the lingering smell of alcohol from his breath and hear his chest rising and falling rapidly. Just his closeness made Vianne break out into nervous sweat, her clenched hands shaking at her sides.

Vianne swallowed hard as scorching tears burned her cheeks, her gaze locking into Dante's dark eyes. His voice dropped to a low hiss while his expression contorted into a devious scowl.

"You're right. I don't think I ever loved you. I just wanted someone near me, someone who was naive and subservient like you." His body was trembling with such indignance that Vianne took a small step backwards. But just as she moved, his hand latched onto her wrist, his fingers pressing so hard into her skin that she yelped from the sudden pain.

"Let go of me-" He twisted her arm into an awkward direction and all she could feel was heavy, blistering pain. She cried out loud, squeezing her eyes shut as her arm throbbed. Vianne used her other arm to pry his hand off of her wrist, using all of the force of her body to pull away from him. When he grabbed onto her other arm, she swung her leg and kicked him in the shin. He buckled from the impact, his balance uneven as he collapsed to the floor, groaning from the pain. Vianne ran towards the fireplace where she could use the fire iron as a weapon for self-defense, her body struck with overwhelming fear. Dante growled, figuring out what she was doing and aggressively standing from the floor. He grabbed the blue vase sitting on a small table from behind him, and before Vianne could get halfway towards the fireplace, Dante hurled the glass vase in her direction.

The vase shattered on impact. Shards of glass strewn across Vianne's hair and clothes, an abundance of large pieces surrounding her on the floor. She cried out loud as small pieces of glass were embedded in her skin, blood seeping from her arms and one side of her face. She crouched onto the floor, her back turned away from him as she shielded her head with her arms.

The pain was smoldering - as if there were needles sticking deep into her flesh all the while her bones were splintering and cracking like the lightning in a storm. Her breathing became heavy as the screaming of the tea kettle rang loud in her ears, the smoke drifting from the kitchen and into the living room. The shrieking sound was all Vianne could focus on; it was growing louder and louder in her ears, a building crescendo of terrified screams.

"You fucking deserve this!" Dante screamed as though his vocal chords were being shredded apart, his eyes bloodshot and his skin drenched in hot sweat. "You're so useless, you know that? You followed me around like a damn idiot, always depending on me to get whatever you wanted! It was me who did everything for you! Goddamn it, why couldn't you have just never had that fucking anxiety attack? You never would have clung to me if I didn't help you get through it, I should've just left you on the floor to suffer! If you never had that anxiety attack, we would've never gotten married! You hear me? I'm in this shithole because of you."

Vianne knew he was screaming at her, blaming her for everything that caused him any pain. She knew he was looking for someone to control when they first met- he didn't expect to have someone completely depend on him in order to get through her own problems. But now, as he was yelling, all she could hear was the high pitched whistling of the tea kettle. It was causing heart palpitations, her nervous system shaking from the rising anxiety flooding her insides. Oh no, she thought hopelessly, I can't have an anxiety attack now. I...I can't.

The noise was echoing in her mind, hot-cold sweat rolling down her spine as the pain in her arm and face boiled. She let out a shaky breath as she looked at a large piece of glass sitting in front of her. In the blue glass, she could spot her own reflection; her eyes were wide as tears rolled down her face, and small pieces of glass etched into her cheek sparkled from the living room lights. She looked completely horrified. As the screaming of the tea kettle drowned out the noise of Dante's buzzing voice, she slowly reached out and picked up the piece of glass, holding it tightly in the palm of her hand as her mind became fogged with one thought.

"Do you hear me?" Dante yelled, his voice muffled as Vianne slowly stood up, her back still facing Dante, "I fucking hate you!"

His voice was being smothered by the tea kettle's whining, and before she could tell what was happening, she turned around and swung her arm out in front of her, her expression unnervingly blank.

The tea kettle's screeching became clearer in her ears, her anxiety raging within her veins as she felt hot, thick liquid splatter across her face. Her skin was dotted with flecks of red, and pools of it dropped down her forehead and into her parted mouth. She stared wide-eyed at the long slit across Dante's neck, blood spewing wildly down onto his shirt as he struggled to breathe. He stumbled towards her, his hands reaching uselessly towards his throat. The gurgling sounds of him trying to breathe were still drowned out by the whistling, and she simply watched him as his insides were spilling out of his body.

He stumbled to her, kneeling down on the floor as his hands grabbed onto her legs, his eyes pleading for help. Vianne stared down at him, her eyes empty as she ran her fingers through his hair, grabbing tightly onto some of his curls and slowly pushing his head back so that she had a clear view of his face. What makes you think I'll save you?

Tears leaked down his face, his expression contorted into pure agony as his trembling hands reached out to take hers. Vianne scoffed, rage devouring her mind.

"Stop it," Vianne hissed, hating how he hadn't succumbed to death yet, "why don't you just die already?"

With her right hand clutched onto the shard of glass, she drove it back into the slit in his throat, more blood gushing out of his body and splattering all over her clothes - the thick, hot liquid warming her cold skin as a masochistic sensation crept along her spine. With her jaw clenched and a scowl forming on her face, she drove the glass shard over and over again into his throat, desperate to eradicate the lingering life still in bloom on his expression.

Blood was gushing everywhere. It was a never ending waterfall of hot, oozing blood from his neck. With each stab, the more life was being sucked from his mouth as his eyes bulged and his skin turned pale. After digging the glass into his throat a dozen times, she released her grip on his hair and let his body fall limp to the floor, blood seeping into the rug and into the small cracks of the hardwood floor.

Vianne's breaths were heaving, her body scorching from the rush of adrenaline and the pain in her left arm erased. She looked at the blood-stained piece of glass in her right hand and found that her hand wouldn't stop shaking no matter how hard she tried to stop it. She shuddered slightly, the copper taste of his blood dripping off her tongue and down her throat.

I killed him.

The whistling of the tea kettle continued on, plumes of grey smoke suspended in the air. Taking in a deep breath, she looked to Dante's body with a strange lack of emotion. I just killed him.

It was as if the noise of the world was growing silent with each passing second, leaving only the screams of the kettle to sound within the empty space. Although, its screams were interrupted by the light knocks on the front door.

Shit.