The rage surged through me like wildfire, consuming every inch of my being. Betrayal—etched into my bones, searing my soul. How could he? All the promises. All the whispered “I love you’s’’… They never meant shit.

The dresser drawers now held only his deceit. And the clothes that she’d probably ripped off of him 1000 times. I tore them open, fabric ripping, wood splintering. His shirts, neatly folded, became twisted knots of anger in my hands. The scent of his cologne mocked me, a cruel reminder of a love that was nothing but lies.

I dragged his clothes—shirts, pants, socks—into the yard. The gasoline canister trembled in my grip as I doused each garment. The liquid hissed against the fabric as flames leaped hungrily, devouring the evidence of his betrayal. The heat licked my skin, matching the inferno that raged within me.

Back inside, I stared through bloodshot, tears stained eyes at the dishes – so perfectly aligned a top the countertops. Remnants of bliss and passion and countless meals shared together. I swept them from the counters, their porcelain bodies shattering against the walls. The sound echoed through the empty house, and my knuckles bled, but I didn't feel the pain. Only fury. Only the need to obliterate every trace of him.

Finally – when the kitchen was nothing but shattered glass – I stood amidst the wreckage. My shoulders racked with sobs, and my breath came out in ragged gasps. And from somewhere in the darkened corners of my broken heart, there came an evil, hungry,bloodcurdling laugh. This man had made me crazy. He had created a monster. And now he would deal with the beast.