23

The night before honeymoon 2 was a fucking disaster.

He stared at me with greedy eyes and clenched both his fists.

I stepped back but he leaned forward.

"You know I love you, right?" He said it once more that day but this time differently. He said it like it was an insult, a racist phrase of some sort.

I replied with a "what's wrong with you?" but he refused to answer.

Instead, he screamed and screamed until he blew shit up with homemade dynamite. At least it felt like that, anyway.

I wanted to tame him but I could not. He just raged out of nowhere and I was about to call the hospital but he stopped me with a strong grip.

He touched my cheek before hitting my forehead against the edge of the bedside table and letting me fall on the filthy floor. 

"You crazy bitch!" He screamed.

And I died.

I was dead in that fucking moment.