The night was dark. The air, thick and dense. She noticed her hands were clammy as she gripped the wheel. She felt as if she was suffocating; no matter how much air she breathed in, it didn’t make a difference. She couldn’t fill her lungs. Her mind was foggy; every movement forced and unnatural. She tensed as she realized she was getting closer. She could smell the fear in the air. Her heart was pounding at a fierce pace. She then realized she could see it all. Her own nightmare lay in front of her. What she thought was just fiction became a terrifying reality.

As she slowed, the mist cooled her face. She stopped the boat and prepared to get out. With her worst fears staring directly at her, she lifted one leg first, then the other over the side of the boat. She stuck her feet in the bone-chilling water that reached her waist and proceeded to move forward. She sank slowly in the silky sand as she walked. She needed to get this over with. She tried to run but went nowhere, and she was in slow motion. Numbing herself to her immediate future, she got closer and closer, slowly making her way to the entrance.

She’d been here before.

She recognized the feeling, a familiar pit in her stomach. She tried, but couldn’t go in. She just stood there, staring at the entrance. She didn’t know how much time had passed and she didn’t care. All she could do was stare - stare at what she could see, what she couldn’t see, and what she knew she would.

Finally, just like that, with one swift motion she was in. An immediate feeling of regret rose in her throat. What was she doing? She looked around at the old abandoned walls; what she once knew as beautiful was now decayed and rotted. She smelt death all around her, and she could feel his presence. Why did she give him this power? She could sense his anger and it installed a deep fear in her. She didn’t know when it happened. When the man she knew, once sweet and gentle, had turned so vicious. She was becoming dazed and confused, unable to decipher between what was happening and what wasn’t. How could she hear him, feel him, if he’s dead? She could feel his force as it tightened on her skin. She can’t remember him ever being so angry. She knew why he was angry. No matter how hard she tried, she would never forget what happened that day.

She remembers the first time they ever met, three years earlier. They were both so young. Her world was so full of opportunities. She was so anxious to chase her dreams. The morning they met, she decided to go on a walk.

The weather was cold and damp. She dressed in her dark blue jeans and threw on a long black coat, grabbing her umbrella as she went out the door in case it rained. She was able to appreciate the beauty of the world, a special talent, unlike others who simply took it for granted. She saw how the leaves, muddy and wet, were still beautifully carrying the essence of fall. She noticed how the colours showered her in a surreal beauty that could only be created by Mother Nature herself. As she walked, observing the world around her, it began to rain. She didn’t open her umbrella right away; she let the rain pelt her face, leaving a soft, stinging sensation.

She paused for a moment to look up at the clouds, and shot open her umbrella. With her own personal roof, she continued her walk. She walked through the park and down the street to her favourite road. There was something about this route. It was home to some of the oldest houses in the town. The street charmed her. It was undeniably captivating. She was particularly drawn to one house; it was stunning, yet abandoned. She often wondered how someone could leave something so beautiful. She also wondered how no one else discovered the beauty in it. Even though she didn’t own this house, she felt a connection to it - it felt like home.

Her walk this day was much like others, except for one thing. As she sat on the bench across the street, staring at this house, imaging a life in it, she saw him. It was the moment that forever changed her life. Standing there organizing the vines on the old decaying brick, was the most beautiful man she had ever seen.

It’s not every day that you see someone that makes you take a second look. When you take that second look, perhaps you lose your breath and your heart skips a beat, and maybe they're worth a “Hello”. It wasn’t only a physical attraction that caught her eye though, it was so much more. It was emotional - like she was breathing in his essence. At that moment, they were one, connected in a way she never knew was possible.

He didn’t see her, not at first. But as she watched him, she noticed his body and demeanour had changed. He looked less hard, more fluid in his movements. As she sat and watched him she hoped he would turn around to see her. For some reason she couldn’t summon the courage to go talk to him - she felt as though she was in a state of paralysis. Finally, after what felt like forever, he turned and spotted her. Their eyes locked for what seemed like an eternity, and suddenly he was walking toward her.
As she walked through the now abandoned house and thought about that moment, her stomach turned into knots. These memories she held on to, they happened so long ago, yet they felt like yesterday.
It’s hard to really understand what makes a person do something. Most often we do things that immediately benefit us with a positive reaction or outcome. So why is it, that if her being in this house only evokes a negative reaction, would she stay? She never really considered herself a masochist, and most definitely never considered him a sadist. But now, she was forced to reconsider.

Three years later, he was still as mysterious as ever. He was captivating. Everything about him spoke to her. He was, simply put, something of a different kind. They were very much in love, yet she knew hardly anything about him. Every time she would try to persuade him to open up to her, he would dodge her questions. To her, that didn’t matter. She knew what she needed to know - at least she thought she did.

What did she know at this very moment? She knew she was in the old abandoned home, she knew how she got here; she knew that he was here, and she knew that he was angry. What she didn’t know is why she came? Why she felt the need to put herself through this. She didn’t know if this was really happening or if it was all just a nightmare. Her thoughts were redundant; she kept going through the same things over and over. Her mind was spinning like a carousel. She had a lot of memories of their time together. Some good, some bad, and one, the one she kept going back to, horrible. He had no right to be angry with her. Though she had expected it, his anger wasn’t warranted. As much as she would love to forgive him, she knew she never could. She knew she would carry this anger and hatred for the rest of her life, as he did for the last of his.

She prayed for something to happen in the house, something, anything to break the silence. As she roamed, she noticed her arm was reddened from his tight grasp and her chest, constricted from his enraged force. She felt the familiar pain she had felt once before. She continued to walk, and that’s when she saw it. The bile rose in her throat as she peered down at the broken black box that lay on the floor.

It was two years ago, almost to the day, that she had met him and she was blissfully happy. What could she say? It was love. This was new to her. She had never considered herself to be happy. Sure, she had periodic moments of happiness, hadn’t everyone? However, she would have never felt it as a general state of emotion. She often thought how funny it was that someone, one person, can change your life. Change your whole outlook. He was her saviour. He breathed new life into her. It was as if he was created for the singular purpose of fulfilling her every need, and vice versa. At the same time, he hasn’t always been a walk in the park. She had her many struggles with him. He had his moments when he seemed so distant and unreadable. She continued to convince herself that she was okay with not knowing anything about his past, but she knew it was a lie. It was only a matter of time before she would have to find out.

She remembers near the end, thinking about how she wanted so badly to know more about him. The mysteries of his past were becoming too much for her to bear. Every second she became increasingly curious about this man. She wanted to know about his family, where he grew-up. She wanted to know about the events in his life that made him the person she loved so much today. Frankly, his reluctance to tell her any part of his past was beginning to concern her.

It was late afternoon, on that fateful day. She was left alone in the house, while he went out to retrieve supplies for dinner. She couldn’t believe it; in the entire time she had known him, this was the first time she was ever alone in the house. The fairly intimate connection to her surroundings rose to the forefront of her thoughts when she realized she was by herself there. While she knew the house like the back of her hand, she felt intrigued to discover more of its hidden treasures, and perhaps more about his past.
The inside of the home was filled with charm. Though it was remodelled, he managed to maintain the natural raw and historic beauty that the home encompassed. The outside of the home remained captured by the most vicious crawling vine she had ever seen. The vine was what initially attracted her here. It had an almost magical quality about it. It was as if the vine acted as protective arms, keeping safe the very essence of the house.

As she continued to roam about she wandered into what she called “the parlour”. He was taking longer than she had expected. She found herself growing restless for his return. As she walked about the parlour, studying his many books and knick knacks, she slowly traced her fingers along the fireplace mantle. As she toyed with the rough exterior of the wood, she noticed something that caught her eye. As she focused on what it was she realized it was a gleam on sunlight shining through what appeared to be a slight crack in the ceiling. The stream of sun light, showing many particles of dust that appeared to be dancing, landed directly upon her hair, making its dark colour shine with golden rays of red and copper. As she moved closer to the source of the light, she realized that she was mistaken. It wasn’t a crack in the ceiling that she had noticed. It was a slat, to what she knew lead to an attic. An attic which she knew nothing about.

As she walked around the abandoned house now, she could feel his anger intensifying. She wishes that she would have discovered his secret before that day. Maybe if she did, if she knew the truth, then the outcome would have been different. Perhaps they would still be together. She doubts it though. She doubts she would ever be able to live with and love a man who was capable of covering up such a grave lie.

Two hours later and he still hasn’t returned. The mystery of the attic was making her skin crawl. Sure, it was probably nothing, but if it was nothing, why did he hide it from her? She couldn’t take it anymore. She had to see what was in it. She suddenly found herself racing across the parlour to grab a chair from the dining room. As she pulled the chair to the spot directly under the attic she noticed her palms grow sweaty in anticipation. As she climbed up on the chair and reached for the copper ring that would release the stairs, she paused. Was this really worth it? Did she really want to risk everything they shared to satisfy her curiosity? Without a second thought and a swift motion later she was tugging on the ring, pulling down the wooden stair case. If the house was based purely on the condition of the hidden stair case then it would be condemned. It was obvious that this was one area of the house he choice not to focus his energy on, or so it appeared. She swiftly jumped off the chair and kicked it away, allowing room to fully extend the stairs. She quickly ran to the front entrance and peered out the window to make sure he wasn’t in sight. Once she saw that he wasn’t, she made her way back to the stairs.
Her heart was racing with the most exhilarating feeling of anxiousness and adrenaline. She cautiously climbed up the entrance of the attic. It was dark. Darker then she expected, but she had enough light to peek around. Oddly enough, it looked like he came up here often. She was expecting to find dust and cobwebs, but on the contrary, the attic looked well maintained. As she looked around she noticed it was filled with the typical items - boxes and clothing - that your typical attic houses. Then she noticed something she had not seen before. It was a black metal box, with a shiny silver handle and a key hole. She knew that this was most likely your average keepsake box, yet she found herself increasingly intrigued by its contents. She picked up the box and tried to open it. Surprise surprise, it was locked. She didn’t have the faintest idea of where to look for the key. Whatever was in this box, he was clearly trying to hide.

She was about to call off the search when she remembered something. It was a particularly mild day (she chalked it up to an Indian summer, but that’s beside the point) so he didn’t wear his coat. He always keeps his key ring in his left pocket.

Once again she found herself carefully tackling the stairs. She ran to the coat, retrieved the keys, checked the window and was back in the attic in what had to be less than thirty seconds. She fumbled through the key ring, looking for a key that could be small enough to open the box, and voila, she found it. She noticed her hands were shaking as she slowly opened the box. She stared at the contents. Papers, that’s all that was in there was a bunch of papers. She got off her knees and repositioned herself on her bottom, legs crossed. With the box on her lap, it was time to get reading.

Pulling out the first envelope, she took out the letter. It was what appeared to be a love letter. Her heart sank as she read the words that were the equivalent to whispers of “sweet nothings” on paper. She didn’t recognize the name, and yet she wasn’t surprised by its contents. If it weren’t for reading this letter, she could have assumed that she was the only woman he was ever romantically involved with, which clearly wasn't the case.

Dipping back into the box she read more and more love letters signed by the same woman. Through the letters she learned that they were madly in love, spent every minute together and were planning a wedding. The next thing she pulled out was indeed a marriage certificate, his and hers. She was shocked, how could he not tell her about this? Was he still married? Was she the other woman? Do we spend enough time apart for him to have a wife?

As she looked over the details of the certificate, she swore she could feel her heart breaking into two. She discovered the marriage took place only two years before they met. Thinking she had seen enough, she was about to stop looking. It was then that she saw something she found odd. It was a death certificate, one that belonged to his wife, or should she say late wife? She was so confused. First she found out that he was married, now she finds out that he’s a widower? This was all becoming far too strange for her to comprehend.

Then she saw it. His wife was murdered.

Murdered? This just didn’t make sense, did he murder his wife? Is that why he wouldn’t tell her anything about his past, or was it just too hard for him to go back and relive? She felt paralyzed, she couldn’t move. She was filled with sadness; sadness for their relationship, for him and his pain, for his wife. Before she could even tell what was happening she felt a strong force push her over and knock the box off her lap. She smacked her head on a floor board in the attic. it took her a few seconds to realize what had happened. It was him. He was back and he was angry. His eyes were cold and hard, she had never seen him look this way - he didn’t even look like the man she knew. She frantically pleading and tried to explain what she was doing, but he didn’t care. With one strong motion he kicked her in the ribs. He was screaming at her but she couldn’t interpret what he was saying. She couldn’t seem to catch her breath, the pain felt like daggers to her chest. He was moving closer now. Leaning down toward her he lifted her head by her cheeks and swiftly hit her across the face. The adrenaline sunk in and she began to realize that he was going to kill her. The blood ran down her chin as he grabbed her by the shoulders and began to shake her violently. She didn’t know how she was able to do it but she started to fight back. Digging her nails into his cheeks she dragged her hands down his face, removing every bit of skin that her fake nails could hold.

He threw her hands off his face and backed off. He grew angrier now, getting back up and reaching into his back pocket. He pulled out a switch blade. The shine of the fate-altering knife illuminated the obvious ending of what was once her very real fairy tale. He slowly moved towards her, knowing that she was unable to get up. Their breathing, heavy and ironically enough, simultaneous. He lingered over her and lifted his arm up above his head. She knew that with one motion from him her life could be over. It was the image of that which gave her the strength to lift her legs and forcefully kick him. Her feet connecting with his stomach was enough to propel him back. It was by pure coincidence and luck that the staircase was directly behind him.

She watched as his terrorizing body collapsed down the stairs. It was at that time that she screamed and broke into hysterics, with tears racing down her cheeks as the reality of what just happened poured over her. She slowly inched her way to the entrance of the attic. On her backside again, she used her arms to pull herself, as she couldn’t summon the strength to get up. She took a deep breath and peered down the stairs, and saw his motionless body laying on the floor of the parlour. The pool of blood underneath his head clued her into the obvious: he was dead.

She would never know what happened to his wife, or why he got so angry that day. She was robbed of the opportunity to know the truth. What she did know was that she was free, free and safe.
She woke up from her nightmare in a pool of sweat. Never had she experienced anything so terrifying in her life. As she stared at the man next to her in bed, she realized knowing everything about his past might not be worth the risk after all. With the sound of birds chirping she got out of bed and peered out the window to admire her beautiful crawling vine