The first time this strange event happened, Frank and I were ready to get to bed. We were standing next to the sink, I was brushing my teeth and Frank was shaving and modelling his beard. I allways love how he gently pushes his cheeks and chin. Suddenly I remembered I had asked him this morning to tape an episode of Star Trek Enterprise for me, while I was home late from work.

 “Did you tape Star Trek for me?” I asked him with a frown on my face. He looked surprised.

“Oops, sorry. I forgot.” I threw down my toothbrush and turned to him.
“You asshole! Why can't you do anything right? It's not that I ask much from you!” I yelled.
“Calm down, Mandy. I'm sorry, I told you.”
“Sorry doesn't make everything right now, does it? 

You allways forget everything I ask: take out the trash, walk the dog before you leave, get some milk and sigarettes for me! It's allways the same!!!” I was so angry, I hit the sink with my fist, and hurt myself. It made me even more angry.I grabbed his t-shirt and pulled it towards me. “I hate your forgetfullness!”

“I'll try to do better.” he mumbled shyly.

“Yeah, you allways say that!” I screamed. I pushed him to the wall with all the power I had.

“Stop that, Mandy, you're hurting me.” Frank sounded a bit scared, and I felt the rage roaring through my body, making me powerfull and it eradicated every thought.

“You're not a man, you're less than a pig.” I snarled. My fists dug themselves in his chest, my knuckles pushing against his ribs and I felt Frank starting to push me away.

“You have to calm down now.” His bossy hands made my rage flare up even more and I pulled my arm back and my fist landed in his stomach. Franks breath came out in a moan and he bent over, with a surprised look on his face. I looked down on his dark brown hair, and I thought to myself that he should be punished for his stupid forgetfullness. The first thing that came to mind was the mirror, and without further thinking I took a towel, wrapped it around my hand and I hit the mirror. Big chunks of glass fell on the concrete floor. It made a lot of noice, but I didn't pay any attention to it. I picked up a large shard with a long, sharp point.

“What are you doing?” Frank asked with a mixture of curiousity and fear on his face.

“Making things right.” He just had time to raise his hands in a defensive posture, but it didn't do him much good. I thrusted myself at him, the glass cut his left hand and then sunk into his chest.

“You... you...” His eyes looked at me in horror, and suddenly my rage seemed to seep into the showerdrain. Frank shivered, fell on his knees, while blood started dripping from his lips. I stepped backwards, to make sure he wouldn't fall on me, and the man I loved fell on the floor. I heard him struggle for breath, his hands reached out to me, and a pool of blood started to form on the floor. His leg kicked against the wall for a moment, but then all was silent.

I put my hands against my chest, but then saw all the blood on them and I felt sick in my stomach. What the hell did I do? I sat on my knees next to Frank, but I did'nt dare to touch him. He was dead.

I sat there for a long long time, I couldn't think, I couldn't move. I looked at his glazed eyes, his silent lips, his body without motion. I was the one who ended his life, I was a horrible person. I was a murderer, a dangerous woman, a killer. When I got too tired to sit there any longer, I stood up and went to bed. I didn't know what else to do. I just fell on the bed and closed my eyes. Maybe tomorrow I would go to the police.

I woke up, my throat all closed in fear and sadness, but then heard a strange noise. In the bathroom I heard water running, the sound of a shower. How was that possible? Did someone enter the house, maybe a neigbour, and was that person cleaning up there? As quiet as possible I got up, walked to the door and felt my heart stop beating. In the shower, there was Frank, naked, washing all the blood from his body, and concentrated he felt his chest and a faint mark that ran across his nipple. Suddenly he looked up. Frank opened his mouth, hesitated and tried again. We both were silent, looking at eachother. Then I tried.

“You live.” I whispered. He nodded. “How... I mean... You were dead.”

“I know.” Frank let the water run over his belly. “I was dead, but suddenly I woke up, pulled out the glass and then thought: let's clean my self up.”

“Yeah, that's the first thing to do.” I answered.

We decided to make up, talk things over and take this second chance. It was the start of a very, very weird relationship. Because I lost my temper again. Of course. And again, and again. Because, if you don't have to hold back, why would you?