"Hey... honey, open the door,"his voice pleaded with you gently. "Perhaps it was all just a misunderstanding. Why don't you come out and we can have a little laugh, okay?"

You knew damn well to never believe any sort of sweetness dripping from Naoya's lips. It was deceptive, comforting... the perfect bait to get you and find yourself beaten by him time and time again.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. Naoya was supposed to be perfect, kind ... what happened to the loveable man you married? Did he ever exist? Was this.. monster merely wearing his skin, taking pleasure in torturing you one moment then drowning in his love?

Today was supposed to be easy. Leave when Naoya left for work. You didn't anticipate a work mishap allowing him to go home early, and him catching you red handed as you left through the door. The door you weren't meant to leave through on your own.

He'd twisted your wrist hard enough to nearly break it in a fit of rage, pushing you into a painting in the entrance hall. You'd thrown your suitcase as a distraction, giving you enough time to run to the bathroom and lock yourself in there.

Which brought you to now, his voice was teetering the edge of hysteria as he banged at the door. You spotted the razors on the counter. Better you kill yourself than let him get you because he'd make sure your death was painful. You were certain you'd leave in a body bag.

Just as you were about to slit your wrist, Naoya burst in screaming. You were startled, slashing at the air. His screams cut off abruptly into gurgling as he stumbled, the coppery smell of blood getting steadily pungent as the liquid soaked the hand at his throat. He tripped, a sickening crack heard as his head made contact with the bathtub.

You stared at your motionless husband for what seemed like ages. Your fingers shakily gripped the phone, your eyes never leaving his.

"119, what's your emergency?"

"I...think I killed my husband..."