[ WP ] You have just died . You wake up in the body of your killer 's lover .

Death was disturbing, in just how quiet it was. There was no screaming, no crying or begging for mercy, and no maniacal laughter as the hammer dropped. Perhaps one of the two of us had a traitorous, fearful thought of making noise. Perhaps one of us thought that a hurried plea could stop the madness. 
 
 No one said a word. 
 
 No, the disturbing part was waking up. 
 
 I woke up in another person ’ s body, in another person ’ s home. I found myself in a room that I knew but *didn ’ t know*— a place in which I ’ d lived for ten years, but *didn ’ t recognize*. 
 
 I watched a man enter the room, a man whom I loved with all my heart and *who should die a gruesome death for his crime*. I watched him smile softly at me, a warm, loving smile, *hiding below those butcher ’ s eyes*. 
 
 He went into the next room. *I watched through the glass door as he turned his back on me*. 
 
 On instinct, I grabbed a gun *I didn ’ t know was there* from a nightstand drawer. *I ’ ve never held a gun in my life-* I check the magazine, then disable the safety and rack the slide. 
 
 *I ’ ve never hurt anyone in my life. * I take up a shooting stance and line up the sights with the back of his head. 
 
 I watch him slowly, lovingly pick up a small, squirming body from the crib in front of him. I watch him cradle *his son*— my son— **our son**— in his arms. He rocks him gently back and forth; the picturesque image of a caring father. 
 
 *Slaughter that murdering son of a-* 
 
 The gun quivers in my hand. I unload it and put it back in the nightstand. 
 
 I pad across the carpet to my husband, and gently wrap my arms around him. I bring them both closer to my chest. I feel connected to him— our souls together, *our fates entwined*. He gives me a gentle smile. 
 
 *I wonder if he knows. *
