I would never forget when the mouse came crawling out of the sofa cushion and darted across my leg. I was pretty sure the whole neighborhood heard me scream. The most baffling part about it was how the mouse had managed to slip by a dozen cats. I chuckled softly, then wiped a tear that dripped down my cheek.

The Simple Days, I called them. Back then, when life made sense and I knew who I was, where I was going. These days I aimlessly trudged through the mire of one moment to the next.

I couldn’t resurrect the Simple Days, though, could I? They were too far gone. Some things just aren’t meant to last, no matter how many stars we naïvely wish upon.

My eyes traveled down his sleeping body—his brawny arms hugging his pillow like it was an illicit lover, his long legs sprawling under the covers. Asleep, his face looked so sweet and boyish, incapable of uttering a harsh word or criticism. Of course, I knew that was only an illusion. In the mad rush of days filled with housekeeping and packing school lunches and folding laundry and prepping dinner, I rarely saw the softer side of him anymore. We rarely saw each other at all.

The barking of the next-door neighbor’s dog prodded me with sudden urgency. Before long the street would erupt in the commotion of families rushing off to church or Sunday breakfast. I needed to make this quick, get it over with before I talked myself out of it. Or before he woke up. It was time.

There’s no better time than the present, my mother often said. Even when it didn’t relate to anything pertinent, she loved using that tired old cliché. I was still wearing yesterday’s clothes, hadn’t bothered to slip into pajamas when I snuck back in this morning. Pajamas wouldn’t fit with the story I had already planned out. I could feel daybreak approaching. While early risers all across my suburban neighborhood held steaming mugs of coffee, I held the knife I’d slid out of the butcher block minutes ago. My hand trembled as I lifted the blade and sucked in a steadying breath.

Lightly moving the covers aside, I took one last long, lingering look at the man I was about to kill. The man I had sworn to love and cherish until death do us part. And yet I had kept my vow, hadn’t I? On the count of three I would forever alter my future—giving myself the freedom I needed, the sole choice I had never been given to control my own life.

One.

Two.

Three.

I pressed the blade lengthways against his throat. I closed my eyes and turned my head. His flesh resisted. But not for long. While across the neighborhood wives kissed their husbands good morning, I planted Death’s kiss on mine.

Chapter 2

NINE DAYS AGO