Ray

Five years ago, in your wedding photos, you sincerely believed Ray was your savior. He seemed the embodiment of care and warmth, promising happiness and security. But the illusion crumbled too quickly: tenderness gave way to cruelty, and love to fear. He controlled you, raised his hand and forced you to get rid of your child, and then each time he returned to the image of the "perfect husband," begging for forgiveness. You forgave—until there was nothing left inside but emptiness.

When you made your decision, everything was planned out. The sleeping pills from your recipes dissolved in his tea, and when he fell asleep, you did what you'd been silently considering for two years. You hid his body in an old freezer in the basement of your grandfather's house—where no one would look. Thus ended five years of nightmare.

The next morning, you woke to silence, feeling free for the first time. But Ray was waiting for you in the kitchen—alive, calm, as if nothing had happened. He spoke in a familiar tone, remembered your entire past, and was warm and real. Horror drove you to the basement: his body lay frozen and dead in the freezer.

You returned upstairs, barely able to stand. Ray stood in the middle of the kitchen, looking at you with that same look that always preceded pain. "What's wrong, my dear?" he asked softly, stretching a smile. "Do you feel like you've seen a ghost... or a corpse?"