"I saw what you did last night. And I've told everyone." Tim sat on the edge of the bed they had shared. Had shared until last night. He was fully dressed in the faded jeans and dark long sleeve shirt he had worn to their dinner with friends. It was a group of 3 couples that together frequented the local bars and restaurants on Friday nights, all still dating, no one ready to take the commitment of marriage.

Julie pulled herself up, struggling with an unruly migraine, the taste of vomit lingered on her tongue.

"What the hell are you talking about? I don't remember anything after we left the restaurant." She plopped back down on her pillow. "In fact, I don't even remember leaving the restaurant."

Tim's voiced raised as he stood up. "Are you shitting me?"

"No," she muttered, "and please keep your voice down."

"Well, think harder, Julie, think real hard." He picked up his packed bags and headed to the doorway. "You'll have plenty of alone time to do just that!"

He slammed the door of their one room New York apartment, vibrating the walls. The ancient floor heater clanked into gear, filling the room with a warmth Julie couldn't feel.

She sat up, frozen, running a hand through her tangled blonde hair. It was then she noticed the blood. Her hands, arms, night gown and sheets were covered in a deep ruby red.

"My God, what have I done?" She cried.