Keith cried himself to sleep each night. He would kneel down next to his bed and pray that his wife had found peace. He would pray he would be allowed to move on and that his sins would be forgiven. He would climb into bed and pull the duvet close, curling into the foetal position, hoping sleep would take him before the nightmares began.

It had been 4 years since she passed away by his own hands. She had it coming. She flaunted her infidelity in his face, teased him about not being the father of her unborn son. He soon put an end to that as he squeezed the life out of her on that very bed.

It was the torture he suffered each night that made him cry. She continued to lie beside him, mocking him with her stench. He would never be free, not without her forgiveness. He knew he would never be forgiven. She would tell him so as he cried.

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