When I came home, the lights were off. That was strange because my husband always watched the football game at this time. I opened the front door. It wasn’t even locked. Now I was scared. My house was dark, the front door was unlocked, and nobody was home. Or so I thought.
When I walked into the kitchen, someone tackled me to the ground. I fought as hard as I could, but I wasn’t strong enough. Then I saw the face. My husband! He pulled a knife out, and put it to my throat. I could feel the cool metal against my skin.
“Why?” I whispered, wide-eyed.
“You don’t need to know,” he replied. What? I thought, I have a reason to know why I’m being murdered. He started to break the skin.
“Please! Don’t!” I begged. He just smiled coldly. The knife bit deeper and deeper. The blood coming from me thickened. I screamed, but my voice faded away. I was dieing. I grew paler and paler. More blood ran down to the floor. The last thing I saw was his horrible smile.
Just wait. Just wait until I see you again. In hell.