Vows were exchanged with promises of forever as they got married. But a cynical voice in his head reminded him that his last 'forever' lasted only two years. He wasn't sure how long this one would last, probably long enough to avoid suspicion and keep the neighbors from asking any questions.

-

Photo Session

She looked stunning, as always, radiating in red. "Photogenic" couldn't even begin to describe her beauty. I loved capturing her in her element, that smile dancing on her lips - the same one that used to leave me breathless in college. As I clicked another photo, she came rushing towards me, excitement sparkling in her eyes, eager to see the result. "You're the best," she declared, enveloping me in a hug that sent my heart skipping a beat, yet again. The familiar feeling of losing control threatened to consume me. Regret gnawed at me - I should have confessed my feelings back then. Was it too late to do so? Lost in this internal debate, I barely registered the booming voice that cut through the air: "The groom's here!" A frantic voice followed, "Where's the cameraman...?" before a hand clamped down on my arm and practically dragged me along.

-

Splash

We tore down the street on my motorbike, searching for the girl who'd dared to reject my friend flat-out. Classes at the girls' college had just ended, and students were filing out of the gate, heading home. In the distance, my friend spotted her – that arrogant little piece of trash, strolling home alone oblivious to our pursuit with earphones plugged in. We saw it as a chance to teach her a lesson, to shatter the image that fueled her arrogance – her perceived beauty.

As I slowed the bike, my friend whipped out a vial and, with a splash, emptied its contents onto her face. The acrid smell of chemicals stung my nose. A horrific shriek, unearthly and raw, pierced the air, sending chills down my spine. Disbelief flooded me, but the voice was unmistakable – it was my sister's.

-

Hearing a scraping noise outside my window, I got up and pulled aside the curtain to find a man stealthily climbing down the iron pipe that leads to my mom's room on the first floor. I couldn't believe my eyes. How could she do this to my dad after so many years of marriage? Anger boiled inside me. Without a second thought, I stomped my way up the stairs with the intent of confronting her. I pushed the bedroom door, which was slightly ajar, and stormed in. But the sight that greeted me wasn't what I expected - Mom lay crumpled on the bed in a pool of blood, the armoire gaped open with its contents spilled across the floor.

-

"Dad, not again!" My old man can be stubborn, and unfortunately, age has slowed him down a bit. This time, his eccentricities reached a new high. Finding the shotgun unattended, he snuck out to confront our neighbors. Umm, how to put this delicately? He hates people of color, and his prejudice nearly caused a disaster. When I found him, he was aiming the gun at their son. I managed to talk him down. Gesturing towards the neighbor's kid who'd pulled out a smartphone, probably recording the whole thing, I muttered through gritted teeth, "Not now, Dad. We can always come back later and catch them off guard."

-

As I woke up, I found myself in a coffin. The lid, thankfully, was ajar. I pushed it open and emerged, only to be met with screams of horror from my family. They stood frozen, raw terror painted on their faces, some gasping audibly. At first, I dismissed it as a dream. However, when my dad's voice pierced the silence, panic gripped me. "What in God's name do you think you were doing lying naked on top of your dead aunt?"

-

I went back in time to comfort my heartbroken teenage self after getting dumped, assuring him he'd be fine and even marry the love of his life. I showed him a picture of my wife, a beautiful woman in her 30s. He said he can't wait that long and is threatening to kill himself if I can't get him to spend a night with what he believes is rightfully his.

-

I'd asked her to marry me, but she remained silent.

Then, a slow smile crept across her face, almost breaking into a full-blown grin. "What?" she finally asked, amusement bubbling in her voice, as if I'd offered a hilariously absurd proposition.

-

41% Life

I have this T-shirt, a clever Nas Daily-inspired design. It features a battery symbol displaying the supposed percentage of my life lived. The original merch was ridiculously expensive, though. So, for my 27th birthday, I convinced a designer friend of mine to create a more affordable "knockoff."

-

Search History

As I went through my husband's desktop search history, horror gripped me. "How to get away with killing my spouse," "How to dispose of a body" - these were the kinds of searches that filled his browser. My eyes widened as I spotted one in particular that read, "How to poison my wife." The bottle of water I had absentmindedly picked up a moment ago slipped from my trembling fingers, crashing to the floor. I recoiled instinctively, as if convinced that its contents were contaminated.

So he had been plotting to kill me this entire time, and I never had a clue. Although I was relieved that I had found out before anything fateful happened to me. Just as I was about to leave, I heard a noise. My heart raced, and I quickly turned around, terrified of being discovered. But there was nothing there - except for the lifeless body of my husband, with a knife still plunged into his heart, lying on the floor, just as I had left him.

-