My wife said my name tonight, asking me to come to bed. She wanted my embrace to warm her as the evening proved colder than normal. I finished my cigarette and slipped into her nectar, leaving my shredded clothes behind.
As we lay, I asked her if she would stay.
"Oh Percy, I never left."
I believed her lie, laying waste to the doubts doubling in my head. Nowhere had I felt so comforted as in the heat between those sheets.
"Percy, tell me my name."
"Fina, your name is Fina." I pecked her neck, taking in the ecstasy.
"No," she whispered, "The name you gave me on our wedding night."
"You're my burning bride, Fina. My saving grace in this disgusting life, my beloved fortune I'm proud to make my wife."
"You're too good, you brute."
I looked up at this, curious at her choice of words. This woman was not my wife. Her face hurt to see, her arms singed every part of me to feel.
She would not let go. "I never left, and I never will."
I kicked at her, screaming with pain as my skin seemed to sizzle. She allowed me chance to roll out of bed, and I slipped a gown on, demanding she tell me who she was and what she wanted with me.
As she rose to her feet, I saw she wore a wedding dress. "You know very well who I am; don't make me raise my voice. You're having another one of your episodes, Percy. Go to the window and take some deep breaths. It'll do you good."
I did not question. With every lungful of fresh air, I could feel the cold's fingers take my mind and steady it.
When I finally felt ready to face this foreign female, I turned back to my room and saw it empty.
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