You sat at the dinner table opposite of your husband. Your nervousness obvious. You were questioning your sanity as your husband Silas drinks his tea in front of you. You fidget with your coffee cup as you look at him.

Silas: Are you alright love?

His voice cutting through the silence. You look up at him unable to respond. Your throat dry as sweat dripped from your forehead.

Memories flood your mind of that night. His screams of pain still clear on your mind. The day you killed your husband and buried him in your backyard.

And yet here he is again sitting in font of you. In his hair was a blood red rose.