(A/N: DISCLAIMER!!! Experimental, violent. Please don't flame me, not meant to be offensive, just a shocker. Don't read if you don't like scary stuff.)


I couldn't let him have her. I killed him rather swiftly, but she wouldn't stop screaming his name. I didn't know what to do. I grabbed her and shook her and hit her. I made her recover in my bed. I taught her a lesson, and she was so grateful afterwards that she never rose again.

She looks so lovely lying there in her wedding dress, but day by day, she changes. She doesn't look as sweet anymore. I bury myself in her. Where did the warmth go? She chose the darkness over the light, chose to spend her life with me in this tomb. I wish she would open her eyes again, smile at me, but she is at peace and I would not dare to disturb it. I do not even disturb her to reclaim my bed; even though we are unconsummated yet, I think she believes it is only fair that her husband share with her. She has never put forth a protest.

It is finally the right time to take her, her birthday and our anniversary of meeting. They say the first time hurts, but she didn't cry. She looked so happy. I waited my whole life for this release and now I can be fulfilled whenever I desire. A woman is supposed to have a lovely fragrance. Oh, how I wish I could smell anything but this musty tomb. She would smell as roses smell, for she has always been more beautiful than they are. Sometimes I want her to scream so I can be certain of her pleasure. She doesn't mind if I'm rough or gentle. She just wants me to be close to her.

She never shrinks away from the touch of me anymore. When I hit her in rage, she never shows fear. She is so perfect. I rarely hurt her, though, only when I need release, and I require more and more as the weeks go on. It's too quiet here. I beg her to talk to me, but she chooses not to disrupt my routine--she knows how much my work means to me. I had no idea how wonderful it could be for us. I can't bring myself to hate her for loving another, especially when she never mentions him to me.

She's starting to look more and more like me as time goes on. They say that happens when two people spend so much time together. Her face has the same shadows as mine, and her pink lips faded long ago. Soon no one will be able to tell us apart. She'll never wish to leave; no one would want her the way she looks now. Even with a mask, she's not an appealing girl anymore. She would cry to see herself, but she's never looked, not in my presence. Perhaps she no longer cares.

It breaks my heart to leave her to gather food. I worry that she'll miss me too much. She only wants to wear her wedding dress though. I clean it for her in the lake and bathe her and brush her golden hair. It is gradually falling out now--has it really been so many years? It angers me, but I cannot change it. My love will not bring back her youth.

Some day I hope to die in her arms and to take her with me. We will enter Paradise together. I cannot be denied admittance when an angel travels with me. There is no question of her divinity, and I am a new person now so I must be forgiven. I haven't killed in such a long, long time.

My precious, silent bride... She got what she deserved.

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(A/N: This had been a fan fic, but it wasn't received well, so I've altered it. I think it made more sense in its original context.)