We were married 6 years. Since the moment I first looked into his eyes, I just knew that he was the one. Boy was I wrong. 3 years in he started to act different. After I started to feel the he didn’t love me the way he used to, he started to hurt me. Now I’m just so done with it.

All these years he’s had power over me, but now I’m the one holding the knife. Under the soft moonlight, I have him pinned to the rocky floor. I want to hurt him. His glistening eyes meet mine. Those calming, ocean blue eyes. We stare at each other for a second. I was going to be the last face he ever saw.

“Goodbye, my love”, I whisper, our eye contact not yet broken. I lift the sharp knife and slowly inject it into his skin. He is silent. Eyes shut, mouth closed. I hold his hand for the last time, it was cold, a different type of cold.

Then it hits me, the pain he felt can’t compare to what I’m feeling in this very moment. I just killed someone, took a life. The dark red blood covers my hands. There’s only one thing I can do to stop my pain. It’s my turn now, I have to make it equal.