Merinthophobia

The news only arrived 2 days after their anniversary.  She read the note over and over again, it was tattered and written hastily, as many were in queue.  By now she had memorized it, only a few lines long and baring the reason for her husbands late return.  She placed the note down and blankly stared unto the rain, striking the windows with faint sound, drowning the roads and soil.1

Not a tear fell from her eyes at the moment, the news was not a horrible tragedy to her.  She hated him above any human on Earth, but at the same time, without him would not survive.  He was the source of everything. Money, Clothes and Food were all pulled in by his income, although it was barely enough.  And now, she hated him even more now that he was dead.  Without him, she would not be able to furnish her family with necessities, without him she feared for her children most.2

From his death she would get nothing, she would inherit nothing but debts and starving children.  She turned around and spotted a picture of their wedding.  She never knew what she saw in him, but now it was too late.  She began to sob and started to angrily yell at the lifeless picture.  She picked it up and threw it across the room, the wooden frame shattering on impact with the brick wall.  Then she knew why.  She had loved him more than anything, and she believed he was the same.  The jaded woman felt up her stomach and could feel the bruises caused by his true colors.  He had never loved her, but even then she still had affection towards him.3

She walked over to where the frame had shattered, but saw the picture still intact.  Out of rage she tore up the picture into many pieces and threw it into the flaming fireplace.  As it burned a remnant of the picture, the two heads kissing in matrimony missed the flame.  She stared at it and began to wonder why he had to do this to her.4

Hearing the commotion, her daughter and son ran downstairs.  They saw their mother crying by the fireplace, which was a common sight.  They considered the moment indifferent and returned back to their activities.  She could not tell them the news, for she loved them too much.  She turned back to look at the fragment that remained.  Her tears blurred her vision and she faintly saw the picture laying next to the inferno, and her rage began to fade.5

But she knew that she couldn't do this, she couldn't stay hating him.  So she stood up and held the note in her hand.  She ripped the note in half and threw it into the flames, attempting to smile between her sobs.  Maybe it was better that he was gone.  Maybe now she was no longer caged in his power.  She could live again, maybe find someone else, so she turned back towards the flame, to see the final fragment of the picture, the last sign of her husband.  Suddenly it combusted, dissipating into nothing, along with her pessimism.6