I’ve remarried four times on the same day, so I can always remember the anniversary. My memory is hazy, faulty, whatever you want to call it. I remember the anniversary always, but yet the marriage only lasts about two months. They’ve all passed away. I am a widow to multiple people. I know why. She dances with the knife that kills, I don’t know why. I don’t have evidence other than my own eye witness of the knife in her hand through the glass door, and my then husband in a pool of blood. I swore to never remarry after my last.
But then I met him, Valentino. He really did put the Valentin of his name in our friendship. A romantic by heart, lover by thought. I never thought I’d fancy another after the last few I’ve lost. But he was different. Engaged after a year, the ring on my finger as beautiful as the last four. When he engaged, he told me he knows of the risk of passing on when marrying me, but he told me he doesn’t care. When he said this, I was charmed, this man really did give me his whole heart. But realizing this, I know I can’t let him pass away too. When we got engaged, she started plotting. I found knives under his pillow, X’s on the eyes of his pictures.
The last few months before our wedding, I’ve been plotting to kill her instead, alongside the wedding. I can’t lose this man. Her execution plan was perfect to me, posioning her at my wedding. As I looked at her in my dressing room, I knew time wasn’t on my side, and I needed to stop it to continue on later. Somehow it was I that ended up in the hospital the day of my wedding. It was ruined. I don’t know how I got there though.
I returned home here today. Came home to my now husband, he was magnificent. Asking me if I was alright, needing to know if I needed anything, he was the man of my dreams. I needed to kill her soon. How could I ever let myself lose such a man? He truly was the one I desire. I loved my last husbands too, but they could never compare to such a gorgeous personality as his. I knew he was different from the start, and I feel terrible marrying him knowing if I don’t get to her first she’ll get to him. But today I finally caught her, holding a knife to her heart through the glass door. A suicide because I’ve stopped all her plans to murder my final love? What a sad way to go, but I can say I’ll be joyous when my marriage will finally last a lifetime. She plunged the knife into the insane, empty heart she owns. It was only then when I felt the agonizing pain in my chest, I realized the glass door was actually a mirror.