After My Husband's Cruelty Destroyed Our Love

I've always had a deep, unexplainable connection with my pet cat, Snowball.

When I told my husband, Maximiliano, about this strange bond, he was oddly pleased to find a new way to control me. Whenever his beloved Melany needed him and I begged him not to go, he would torment Snowball, making me faint from shared agony.

On our anniversary, I planned everything down to the last detail—a final effort to keep Maximiliano with me. Yet, he still chose to hurt Snowball, taking her along to celebrate Melany's birthday. Maybe, in a desperate move to quiet my pleas, he went too far and accidentally caused her death. Maximiliano thought our connection was broken, sighing with relief at losing his hold over me. Little did he know, I followed Snowball into the void.

Two weeks later, returning from Melany’s house, he found my lifeless body and descended into madness right there.

I am dead.

I died on our second wedding anniversary.

I drift aimlessly, suspended in air, staring at my own body lying in a pool of blood. My remains are broken, twisted, and hideously distorted. It’s a gruesome sight.

I try to reach out, to close those eyes that are wide open in terror. But my fingers slip through, leaving nothing behind. Still, the pain I feel is hauntingly real. The whip marks, the burns, watching my insides spill from my stomach, every bone shattered to pieces. Finally, collapsing silently, like a broken doll, inside this house.

One day passes, then another.

Decaying, rotting away.

I can't help but think how pitiful it all is. My death was indeed tragic.

Because of Maximiliano's disdain for me, the household servant, Baylee, too, ignored the situation. My decomposing body was overlooked until its stench became impossible to ignore.

How absurd.

I didn’t die in the wilderness, nor did my body fade into obscurity.

I died in my own home.

But of course, no one ever truly cared.

I chuckle bitterly.

Crouching in the corner, I watch as new maggots wriggle over me. My mind wanders aimlessly, wondering if Maximiliano knew I was dead.

Would he be happy?