She looked down at her legs; they were still shapely. She was a good-looking woman, and she took good care of herself – she always put on her make-up and dressed well. Michael still wanted her; he enjoyed her body as he had years before. She still wanted him, and loved the feel of his arms around her. But she had no desire to go out with him any more. She cooked him meals that a professional chef would be proud of, she always made sure the table was dressed with everything from the finest glassware to the best linen. She kept a home for him that was the envy of many a man. All she asked in return was that he allowed her to live her life her own way.

She walked over to the French doors and, opening them, she went out to the small balcony. Sitting at the table, she looked at the sky. It was a clear night, the moon was full, and the stars were glittering above her. She shivered in the cold night air and, picking up the glass of white wine she had left out there earlier, she took a deep drink. Jessie was asleep, and she envied her daughter for a few moments. It had been so long since she had really slept, she had forgotten what it was like. She wished she didn’t suffer from insomnia, that she could get into bed and relax like everyone else. Just to lie down and drift off peacefully was a luxury she couldn’t enjoy any more. Instead, she was wide awake, straining her ears for the sound of her husband’s car crunching on the drive. Once he was home safe, she always felt better.

It was when she was alone in the night like this that she couldn’t stop herself thinking about things she knew were better left alone. Michael’s lifestyle frightened her; she remembered late at night that the world he inhabited was a violent, bloody world. It was a world that she knew he loved, and one that she had never truly understood until the night she had seen him as he really was, covered in blood, and calmly washing it away without any emotion whatsoever. She had helped him – it had been instinctive; she had done what a wife in her position was expected to do for the man she had married. But it was a moment that changed everything. After that night, she had suffered from violent nightmares for weeks, and that was when her insomnia had begun. She was afraid of sleeping, afraid of the nightmares that would take hold, and she had never recovered. His lifestyle, what she knew he was capable of, terrified her. She’d thought she’d understood; seeing it first-hand was completely different.