The fancy hotel room was supposed to be a treat, an exciting break from our usual routine. It was luxurious; cherry-wood paneled walls, leather couches, a decadent bar and a hot tub. This vacation from real life was going to make our happy marriage even happier.
But his smile was crystalline, his eyes shiny-flat and hard as marbles. He was cold and distant, so unlike himself. This was no second honeymoon.
We had never fought so much. The air was heavy with bitterness, dissatisfaction.
Something was wrong. The lavish surroundings seemed to mask something dark and ugly.
Sickeningly sweet, saccharine poison soaking into everything we held most dear.
It all seemed unreal, distant; a nightmare set to the backdrop of heaven.
The room felt… red. Candy-apple red, crimson lips curved in a wicked smile, a trickle of fresh blood. Syrupy thick, painful, all-encompassing scarlet.
The pulse of light behind closed eyelids.
He had enough, and stormed out.
I expected the red to fade, and it did; the room shadowed, the lights seemed to flicker. Then I could still see it out of the corner of my eye.
Red. The outline of a man in a red, red suit.
Pulsing with malice.
It was whispering, barely audible; promises, threats, pleas, commands. Enticing lies to coerce, entrap, and smother me.
I would not look. I could not look. If I looked at it, this… thing in the shape of a man, if I acknowledged its existence, I wouldn’t be able to resist the honeyed words. How long had it been hissing these lies?
I couldn’t move. Its presence seemed to suck the air out of the room, the air out of my lungs.
I willed myself not to look.
Do not look.