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The hallway light flicks on, spilling under the door in a thin line that lights the dust on the floorboards, and I tighten my grip on the long serrated knife like something precious.

“Where the fuck is she?” he growls to himself as he opens the door. He steps inside with his back to me, loosening his tie as he crosses to the dresser, and I try not to gag at how strong his cologne is.

“Hi, honey,” I say brightly, stepping out from behind the door. “Welcome home!”

Before he can turn to look at me, I sink the knife deep into his side with a wet, satisfying thud, twisting hard as his roar fills the room.

“You fucking⁠—”

He spins, a fist swinging wild, but I’m ready. I duck, pulling the knife out as I go, and then I slash out again, opening a gash across his thigh that buckles his leg.

Blood sprays across my face and my arms, soaking into my shirt as he lunges, trying to grab for my throat.

I giggle and lick my bottom lip, savoring the taste of his blood.

We crash to the floor in a tangle of fury and pain. His weight crushes me, and my ribs scream as he tries to pin me down. His fingers clamp around my neck and squeeze. Stars burst before my eyes.

“You think you can kill me?” he snarls, a lock of his usually perfect blond hair falling into his eyes. “You think you’ll ever be able to get rid of me? You’re⁠—”

I drive the knife up with everything I have left, sinking it deep into his shoulder. He screams, and his grip loosens just enough for me to twist free. I scramble across the floor on blood-slick hands, my lungs burning as I gasp for air.

He comes after me again, but he’s staggering this time as blood pours from his wounds. I laugh again and grab the belt from the dresser—the same fucking belt—whipping it at his ankles as he lunges. He trips and smacks the ground hard.

“Oops. Sorry, sweetie. How clumsy of me,” I croon before jumping on his back and looping the belt around his neck.

I grin as I yank it tight.

David bucks like a rabid animal, spitting and choking, his hands clawing at the leather. He slams me against the bed frame, and fire rips through my poor ribs. I cry out.

But I hold on, and I pull harder.

“Die,” I hiss through gritted teeth, laughing and sobbing, holding on as tight as I can. “Just fucking die.”

His struggles weaken, and his body finally slumps forward.

I wait until he goes completely limp before I roll off him, collapsing to the blood-slick floor in a heap, covered in his warmth and mine, sticky and metallic, soaking through my clothes and my skin.

It’s over. He’s gone. Finally gone.

I stare up at the ceiling, tears mixing with the blood on my face, a hysterical laugh bubbling up in my chest.

“Ughh.”

I freeze at the sound of his moan, and I push up on trembling arms, ignoring the agony exploding in my side as I stare down at him.

His fingers are twitching against the belt still looped around his neck, and his chest hitches in a shallow, gurgling breath.

Okay…I need to keep going.

I drag him—grunting with every pull, ribs screaming, vision blurring—to the chair in the corner. I bind him tight using the tutorial I memorized on YouTube, and then I step back to admire my work.

His eyes flutter open. “Sienna…” he gurgles, blood bubbling at his lips. It’s so delicious, the way his eyes are so wide with shock and fear. I want to take a picture. “Sweetheart…please…help me. I’m sorry. I’ll change⁠—”

I smile again, and he grimaces as he stares at the monster he created.

Hours.

It takes hours.