Michael loomed over Nina, his wife of two months; the light from the K-mart bought lamp pushing his shadow through the room. The darkness made the blood trickling over his wedding band from his knuckles look almost black. Her pale form was sprawled in the corner, trying futilely to curl up in the smallest shape, to melt into the wall.
He slowly walked over to her trembling form, gently pulled aside her mass of tangled hair and whispered, “Get up.”
She stayed silent, trying not even to breathe loudly and pushed herself to her knees. Michael punched her across the face, breaking her nose and throwing her head back against the wall. She lay still; her pale moon face looking up through her veil of blood, through the mask of hatred her husband wore, through the cracks in the plaster, through the sky.
“Why do you make me do this Nina?" Smack. "I love you so much.”