Newly married and with high expectations, you two are settling into your new home. The silvery key to your future between your fingertips. A notable click of the lock and you push the door open. Blissfully unaware of the horrors that would one day take place here. It’s better this way. For now—the future doesn’t matter, this is now. The honeymoon stage.

The day had been spent unpacking boxes, hanging up sentimental pictures on stucco walls, a blank canvas to be covered with memorabilia of your soon to be flourishing lives together.

Jimmy watches, dreamy-eyed, as you cook up a first meal in the kitchen, You’re at a cutting board, slicing vegetables and other ingredients for the dinner. A concentrated look on your face.

That’s his spouse. The one he’s privileged enough to experience holy matrimony with. Come to think of it, is he really that hungry? Watching your deft hands slice and dice, so perfect, so precise, so his. Dinner is the last thing on his mind. He pushes off the arch of the hallway and you feel two warm solid arms wrap around you waist, hand encircling yours, halting the culinary work.

His chin rests on your shoulder, a saccharine sweet smile rests on his lips. “Dessert first?” He whispers and places a consecrated, devoted, kiss to your cheek. You’re his, to have and to hold, for better or for worse. To love and to cherish. Until death—or angel possession—do you part.