The split was fresh. Raw. If it was a living thing, the blood would still be warm.

Katrina could barely open her eyes due to all of the crying she had done overnight. There wasn’t a single tear left.

In a matter of hours, her whole existence had dissolved and she was left grasping at air. Why had Mark done it? Why had he run up their credit card debt to thousands of dollars on some whore? And to make the pain even more guttural, tell her all of this over a voicemail recording.

Katrina picked up the nearly-empty wine bottle and put it to her lips again; no longer tasting the bitter, dry drink. She swallowed, turned off the lights, and stepped into the water-filled bathtub.