DAMIAN BLACKWOOD
The pictures burned at me every time I saw them after Vincent first handed them to me.
For days after that, I would lock myself in, and stare at them for hours on end. Then I would go out and stare at the woman outside, the one that was my wife. I found it difficult to reconcile the images with the woman outside, and continued to wonder why exactly she would dare to do such a thing to me. What had given her the nerve? Who was the man even?
I slowly descended into madness, and if she noticed it, she gave no indication. She continued to be the perfect wife, a good one too, and watching her do this annoyed me even more. I would sit up and stare at her sleeping form, grappling with the idea of strangling her or simply shooting her dead. But I couldn't. I, a man who had kil
