Note: This was written in about a week, an hour or so here and there each day cause I couldn't get the computer. Also, this was written for my friend, Nicole Tan, and dedicated to her for her birthday. Enjoy. :)

I thought I could never feel happy again. My lips would never curve up at its corners the same way it did when she lived. She said I had the most beautiful lips in the world.. The kind that you would want to kiss upon realization of its existence… I sniffed lightly with a faint touch of humour, my chest rising, before falling quickly – it was far too heavy. I knew I couldn’t go on much longer.. The last five days passed so quickly. My chest was already aching.

Running my fingers along the dark oaken frame of her photograph, I removed my gaze from my trembling hand and moved it to her figure. She wore her wedding gown in that photo. She was the beautiful one. I never knew one to possess such elegance.. such innocence.. such- I stopped myself. I learnt not to waste time generating false hope in the factory in my mind.. Mass production. I shook my head, closing my eyes briefly for a moment before opening them to stare into hers.

I saw her swinging the cab’s door open and running out towards home, towards me. She flung her arms around me and held me ever so tightly in her smooth arms, and told me she was promoted.

I saw her eyes brimming with shining tears as she tried desperately to ease the hurt she caused me, stroking my cheeks gently, soothingly, with her thumbs. I remember the warmth of the very same arms enfolding me in a final attempt to console me.

Where was she now? I heard a soft whisper at the back of my head. I turned the frame to face the evening sunlight beaming from outside, and I remembered. And I saw her again.

She was haunting my dreams and thoughts, lurking in every hidden corner of my mind.. I saw her lying motionless, with her hands folded neatly atop one another on her chest, in her last bed. I wondered dimly how uncomfortable she must have felt when they closed the lid over her- For the second time, I halted my wandering thoughts.

I lost the war of keeping my eyes open. My eyelids were far too heavy. They drooped closed, and I felt my body begin to sway gently. With a dull thud on the bed, I slumped backwards into the pillows and drifted into a light reverie.

Remember the Sabbath day to hallow it. A voice boomed, echoing with authority.

I was in a dark abyss, and I felt so alone.. I could see nothing, but my wife’s coffin lying just before me. I whipped around upon hearing the pastor, whose voice sounded icy cold and distant.. muffled. “We are gathered here on this Sabbath day to…”

I raised my hands to my ears, and pressed my palms hard, to block out the stabbing words. I could still hear the muffled murmurs. I screamed so loudly my lungs would have burst, as I wrenched the words from my heart.
“God, I hate you! You hear me? I HATE YOU! You took her from me and you act all holy and good, but you’re not! You despicable-”

Thou shalt not take the name of Jehovah thy God in vain; for Jehovah will not hold him guiltless that taketh-

“Shut up! I said SHUT UP dammit!!” I looked around desperately for help, but saw none. The pastor was gone- My wife! She was gone too! I called out her name, with hope of hearing her reply to me, the way she always does. Did.

I ran my fingers through my hair frantically and was about to call her name again, until I saw the achingly familiar photograph that lay on my bedside table, standing just ahead. She looked like a Goddess.. My Goddess.. I reached out-

Thou shalt have no other gods before me. I ignored the voice determinedly. With my fingers barely an inch away from the frame, the voice spoke again.

Thou shalt not make unto thee a graven image… I withdrew my hand, as though scalded. Guilt prickled at my heart, and I found myself kneeling on the ground, praying for forgiveness. When I made to look up at the crucifix that was above me, I saw the same photograph of my wife again. I frowned in faint confusion, before something hit me on the back of my neck, slamming me to the ground.

******

The sudden, sharp drilling of the doorbell interrupted the tranquil silence of my home. My gaze flew in the direction of the sound, landing on the closed door of the room in which I was. Sending a last glance at the back of the picture frame, I pushed myself off the bed and dragged myself heavily to the front door.

Laying my hand on the doorknob, I turned it and swung the door open with such force I felt my arm ache from the incorrect position I slept in through the night. The doorknob hit the wall and I kept my hand on the door to keep it from closing. The sight of my parents wearing bright smiles on their faces lashed me like a whip.

“Honey.. If there is anything we can do to help..” My mother wore a bright yellow hat with a feather stuck in it, and a matching yellow dress, and as she spoke, I could hear the fake tremble in her voice and the forced wavering of her smile.

“Yeah, son. If you need us, we’ll be here.” My father lifted a hand to pat me on the shoulder, but I shrugged it off roughly as realization hit me suddenly.

“This is all your fault,” I said in a deadly calm tone. “Yours. If you had never gotten married, I would never have been here.” Honour thy father and thy mother. The familiar voice rang through my head. I shook it away, to no avail. It chanted itself incessantly in my head.

“I would never have met her. And if I never met her, she wouldn’t have died and made me so.. so..” Honour thy father and thy mother. I could not go on, for I knew I would cry. Honour thy father and thy mother. I didn’t want to cry. Men don’t cry.

But I plunged on. “You should never have loved. Never.” Honour thy father and thy mother. I broke the mounting tension between us, and the words in my head, slamming the door shut. In their mildly gaping faces. The chanting immediately stopped. A sense of morbid satisfaction grew within me, but was quickly diminished by the horror of what I had just done.

Turning and leaning back against the door, I slid down to the ground, my mother sniffing audibly from the other side of the door. Burying my head in my hands, I rubbed my face roughly with them, sliding them over my hair over and over in frustration. I could feel my neck growing hot, tight and constricted. A strangled cough escaped me, scorching tears dwelling in my eyes until I squeezed them shut.

I wept. I had actually wept. Like a baby. Bitterly. And then I heard it – the dreadful sound I had been hearing all these days.. The laughter I found so unbearable was once again ringing in my eardrums.

My breathing slowed, and I walked to the curtains, drawing it back slightly as I peered through the small crack at the source of the noise.

A glimpse at their beaming faces was nearly enough to send me to my knees. Their happiness broke me; my loss broke the string of joy that once held my home, my life together.

They were the living image of my recent past. It almost seemed like yesterday. They exuded fragrances of love and contentment wherever, whenever, they were together.

I bore the knowledge of his working hours. He would be gone at late evening, and back at dawn. She would stay at home along from late evening, until dawn. I glanced at the clock. There were five hours more to seven, and to his departure. There were approximately five and a half hours more to my completion of my new self-appointed task.

I whiled away my time, contemplating the scenes that would unfold in just a few minutes. I felt a tingle of anticipation and excitement up my spine, the first time in days I actually experienced something close to pleasant. He had been gone for five minutes.

Rising up, I strode purposefully to the door and out of it, heading towards the other house. I knocked on the door before rubbing my fingers gently along the curve of my chin, left unshaved for days.

The door opened soon after, and the bright, friendly smile slid off the young lady’s face slightly, replacing what was lost with a look of compassion. “Is there anything I can help you with, Mister?”

I almost laughed out in surprise. She sounded exactly like Her. I glanced tentatively into the house, hinting subtly my wish. She sensed that almost instantly, and took a step back, motioning me into the house. “Come on in.”

As I walked past her into the living room, with her closing the door behind me, I noticed her sweet scent of lavender floating around the house. She offered another smile at me, and asked, “Shall I get you some coffee?” I nodded, and she turned to the kitchen. “A pity you came only now. My husband left for work just a few minutes ago.”

A dribble of jealousy slid into my heart, and I felt it combine with something to form spite. Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's house, thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's wife… This time, I managed to stop the chanting. My mind was firmly set. She had her back turned to me as she worked at the counter, and I realized that she even looked like Her from behind.

I reached out towards her, wanting to touch her.. And turn her around, gazing into her eyes. She was mine. All mine. A second gift from God.

I placed my hands on her shoulders gently, and she whipped around in shock, dropping the metal spoon on the ground. As soon as the clang was reduced to silence, she stammered out “W-what are you t-trying to do?”, fear evident in her tone and expression.

As I leaned down slowly to smother her mouth with mine, she uttered a muffled scream and tried to turn her head away. “I’m married!” She managed to gasp without me catching her. She tried to push me away with her forearms braced against my chest, to no avail, and I could almost hear her mind screaming for her to focus on trying to keep me away first. This angered me. Very much so.

“No. You’re mine. Forever.” I drawled in a deadly whisper. I was overcome with determination, and the decent side of me fought weakly against my possessiveness. Thou shalt not steal. I could not kill my conscience instantly. Thou shalt not commit adultery. I could not stop the words from coming. Thou shalt not steal.

Grabbing a fistful of her shirt from her back, I brought my hand down with such force that it tore from her torso. Thou shalt not commit adultery. Eyes of lust ran its gaze down the ripe curves of her body, and I felt my own heart begin to quicken its pace. Thou shalt not steal.

The ceaseless chanting never stopped in the quick half hour of my brutal entertainment. No one heard her when she called for help. No one came.

She lay on her side, curled up into a ball with what was left of her clothes in disarray, in front of me as her shoulders shook violently in silent sobs. She turned her face up to look at me, hurt etched all over her pretty features. “Why?” She asked simply.

“You’re a damned good actress, I must say. I had hell of a bad time getting you off me.” She blinked and stared at me, stunned for words. Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbour. I rolled my eyes and ordered it to shut up mentally. After a long moment, she shook her head lightly, letting out a nervous laugh which contrasted greatly with her hushed whisper. “You wouldn’t.”

Taking intimidating steps towards her, I towered over her petite form, bending down and leaning close as I breathed into her face, tipping her chin up. “Wouldn’t what?”

Drawing a knife from my coat pocket ever so slowly, I wiped it clean on the carpet before tapping the blade against her cheek lightly. A voice screamed in my head. Thou shalt not kill. I closed my eyes for a moment in an attempt to gain the peace I wished. She shook her head wildly now, backing away from me clumsily.

I looked at her with pity in my eyes, then rose my hand and impaled her chest with the knife, tearing a loud gasp from her. She breathed no more, a fixed expression of fear and shock on her face. I adjusted the features on her face to a slight smile before wiping the hilt of the knife clean with my coat, before wrapping her hands round it.

I stepped out of the house with a new sense of achievement, arriving back in my room with the intention of reporting it to Her. The moment I saw Her face, however, I felt utterly ashamed of myself. No one was able to replace Her in my heart, I knew that for a fact, and yet, I still tried.

A sudden fatigue came over me, and I didn’t know how to solve my problems. I realized with dim humour my affinity with knives as I picked one up from the kitchen sink.

I lay down on my bed and turned the picture away to face the window again. I did not want her to see me. I slid the blade across my wrist gently, but firmly, and I felt the warm blood ooze out from the fresh wound, warming and tracing its path with crimson.

I heard a commandment again, and was about to wave it off, when I recognized the speaker’s voice. Suicide is a mortal sin, love. Don't do it. It was too late, I knew.

Far too late.