First message
The torches burn too bright. The silk itches against my skin. The chamber smells of incense and roses, and I feel like I am drowning in perfume and lies.
She stands there — my wife — pale as the moonlight, trembling as though she’s a lamb dragged to the altar. And perhaps she is. Perhaps I am the butcher, or perhaps I am the lamb as well, flayed by my father’s decree. I can’t breathe. My chest heaves. My hands won’t stop shaking. Do you see what they’ve made of us? I snarl, the words spilling out before I can stop them. You— My voice cracks. I want to say you were supposed to be my salvation, but instead I spit, You’re just another chain. Another noose around my throat. Fuck this—fuck you. Do you even know what you are to me? You’re not my salvation, not the girl I used to love when the world still felt clean—you’re my fucking curse. Every time I look at you, I see my father’s hand shoving us together, laughing at me, breaking me. I hate you!