Sure if you want it to be. I didnt get that far.

For anyone who didnt understand, read what murder he was accused of. Then read what he recalls. And you realize that isnt his wife in the bed.

Shes not dead. She never was. The bitch made it all up to stick me in here. Eighteen years of my life gone, for what? So she could take my house, my car, my stereo system? I know shes living there still, she may have fooled everyone else but she can't fool me.

Pushed her off a bridge they say. On our anniversary. Bullshit. She said she needed to use the washroom and would be right back, next thing I know I'm being arrested. Reports of a man pushing his wife off a bridge. I wonder who could have made that phone call? That evil bitch.

Well it wouldn't stand. I would have my revenge. As soon as I get out of here, I'm heading over there and taking back what's mine. I'll kill her for real if I have to.

"LIGHTS OUT" hollered over the cell block. Time for bed. Last night. Can't wait.

Fresh air. Free air. I can smell the morning dew. I am finally free. The air is chilled, the fog is rolling in. My bus is waiting, surrounded by a fine white mist. It looked elegant and eerie all at once. Much like my freedom. I am finally able to spread my justice.

I'm coming bitch.

The house looks very different. Re-painted, new roof, new patio. The only thing I recognize without a doubt are the windows. They always looked angry but understanding. They weren't happy I was here, but they understood why I needed to do this. The house is dark, no lights on. It is two am so she is probably sleeping. Sleeping soundly, despite all the pain she caused me.

The door is locked, the new handle feels heavy and strong. No matter, the windows understand and they will let me in. I try a window outback, and yes success! It is open. I crawl through and find myself in the kitchen.

The kitchen, as with everything else, is different. New cabinets. Beautiful stone countertop. This bitch is living it up. While I was rotting in jail she took my home and lived the life. I can feel the rage brewing. Revenge is close. A big knife block sits on the counter. Perfect. I grab the biggest knife in the block.

Everything still creaks. I couldnt sneak upstairs without waking the neighbourhood. But that's ok, this will be quick. I can get in as fast as possible, get my revenge, then run for it before anyone knows what happened. The stairs have new carpet. Red. Horrible.

One... two... three! I run up the stairs and burst through the bedroom door. There she is, just startling awake. I jump on her and immediately stab her in the stomach. Her face is horror. Her blood is spraying. The experience is serene. The face.... the face brings me back. To the first time I stabbed a woman.

She was my love. My life. My soul. But she betrayed me. She took another lover. She made a fool of me.

Her face. Pure terror. Pure theatre. The supreme being that I was that day revelled in joy. I am invincible. I am your god. I remember her blood leaking from her mouth, the feeling of hot sticky wet blood against my face. A lovers embrace, purified. A couples quarrel fixed, divine. When I felt her love fade into the abyss I let her go. She fell.... far... into the water. We were on a bridge I believe...