Genre: Paranormal
And then the moment he anticipated for years happened. Her eyes fluttered open.
He felt an unexplainable surge of diverse emotions. He spent days and nights wishing for this and finally, it happened.
After blinking a few times to keep her gaze steady, her deep blue eyes eventually met his black ones. There was a curious look in her eyes at first and his bewilderment reflected hers. But then her expression softened and her rose petal lips curled into a smile. And with that smile, his heart leaped with bliss, all other feelings thrown out of the window. She's here.
She extended her hand, wanting to reach his. He gladly obliged as he walked near her and clasped her hand tightly. Her hand carried a sense of familiarity. It had a certain warmness, a certain serenity. She's real.
The bed creaked a bit as she sat up, her purple nightgown falling just a little above her knees. He followed her lead and sat down beside her. Leaning closer, he brushed a strand across her face and gazed at her lovingly. There was a glint in his eyes that whispered desire. Deep, burning desire.
Without warning, he claimed her lips. It took only a short while before she responded. The kiss was full of need. His hands caressed gently down her arms until he intertwined their fingers. When the kiss ended, he rested her forehead against hers and he felt her warm erratic breathing. And most of all, she's still alive.
They stared at each other's eyes, not minding the time fleeting. Her hand felt perfect entwined with his. The painful memories left as her beautiful face replaced each and every one of his thoughts. She was his home.
Slowly, she pulled back. Her actions surprised him. She had this complicated looking expression on her face that he couldn't quite read. When she let go of his hand, he could sense panic racing through his veins. His former thoughts returned to him again. No, no, no.
A sheepish grin formed on her face. "I'm hungry," she muttered shyly, a low grumbling from her stomach heard in the background. He felt relief as he smiled back.
The two of them had breakfast like always. He served her pancakes and he felt at ease when he saw her face lighten. He told her to help herself but she didn't need to be told twice. She ate fiercely that shocked the both of them. It was like she hadn't eaten for weeks. Well, that wasn't exactly false.
She had no recognition of her own death. She carried no cuts that implied the dreadful experience she had been through. Unharmed, she looked better than ever. The wounds on her head and face healed as soon as she opened her eyes. It was like she hadn't been gone for three weeks. She acted like normal. For her, it was her husband that was acting strange. He would stare at her and smile to himself. He would randomly land kisses on her cheek, neck, shoulders.
"Alive," he would think to himself, as he felt her lips touch his. "Alive."
The next days were the happiest days of his life. He didn't let a day pass without making love to his wife. He was fulfilling his longing for her. He ditched work and made her ditch hers. At first, she was responsive. She would give in to his kisses. But there were instances when she would protest, saying that she was tired or that she needed to go to work. But any complains she made evaporated whenever he smashed his lips into hers. For him, there was no room for complaining. He wanted her and she had no choice but to submit.
Whenever she tried to push him away, he would bruise her to get her to cooperate. Her wounds from before returned, fresh this time. By the end of the day, he would always change the sheets stained with blood.
And then came the point when she couldn't endure it anymore. She tried to understand her husband's behavior. She knew he had a difficult past but this was far too much.
Knowing that her husband went out to buy bed sheets, she started to dial her brother's number. Every ring was a jolt of anticipation. It was only by the fifth ring that he answered the call.
"Hello?" Her brother's soothing voice calmed her a bit. She closed her eyes and took in the comfort of hearing her brother. It made her feel safe.
But there was a rush of danger still. "Please get me out of here," she pleaded in a whisper, afraid that she would be heard. She knew that her husband was away but she was too scared to think straight.
Noting the urgency in her tone, her brother asked for short details that she decisively gave him-or would have, if the phone wasn't snatched from her hand. A silent gasp escaped from her lips as she saw her husband, staring intently at her. The look in his eyes was unrecognizable. Her knees felt weak and she trembled when he held her tightly by the arm.
His tone was good-natured when he talked with her brother. Her family loved him and trusted him dearly. He was charming and simply wonderful. He had a way with words and it didn't take a long time before she fell for him.
But he didn't have the best temper. When he was mad, he was abusive. He would break plates and chairs and hurt her out of blue. She was stupid enough to stay and try to understand him. But he was a wreck that even she couldn't fix. She knew because she tried.
He glided through it effortlessly. He told him that they were just having a small fight and he was sorry for bothering him with it. His brother-in-law bought it. Of course he did. His words sounded believable enough that it even almost convinced her. When he ended the call, the easygoing look on his face faded.
He pulled her by the wrist and her efforts of being released from his grasp were futile. Pushing her down the bed, he started kissing her roughly. His hands wandered around her body uninvited. When she wouldn't respond, he bit her lower lip hard that it bled. She unwillingly opened her lips and his tongue eagerly explored her mouth. He tore her blouse apart and unclasped her bra despite her begging for him to stop. He acted as if he heard nothing and landed wet kisses on her neck, trailing down to her bare breasts. Lust darkened his eyes as he licked his lips in fervor.
He was only put into a halt when a tear dropped on his cheek. When he met her blue eyes once more, he saw her crying. Her eyes reflected pain. Immense pain.
The memories came flooding back. It was the same look she had before she died. She was crying as well. She was calling out his name, begging him to stop. She looked at him as if he was a monster. Her voice got louder and louder in his head so he made it stop.
That memory was clearer than reality. He remembered her mutilated face and the shards all over the bed, their gray sheets turned red. The fact that her skin felt warm terrified him. He couldn't bring himself to look at those blue eyes without recalling how he watched as the flicker of life fade in them.
She had to die. She was living now but he was dead in his mind. The idea that the woman he killed was still alive disturbed him greatly. He knew that she had to die.
Like what he did back then, he ripped the lamp on the bedside table from its hinges and smashed it into her head. Darkness filled his vision and then red. So much red.
After he was done, he paused to take a deep breath. He stroked her once beautiful face, now a bloody mess. He carried her body the way you'd carry a bride and headed to the bathroom. Stripping both their clothes, he cleaned the blood off on his body and on hers. When he was done, he laid her naked body again on the bed.
Reaching forward, he met her cold, pale lips. She didn't respond, of course she didn't. But she didn't protest anymore.
He smiled contentedly as he deepened the kiss.