Cold. That's all I can think about when I think of him. He must have felt so cold.

I never wanted him to die. I thought I wanted him to, but I was wrong. I know now. Nightmares keep getting worse and I'm tired of fighting them back. It's his face what haunts me. He looks at me but says nothing. He stares in silence as I cry. And I hate him for hurting me like this.

No, I never wanted him to die. Not even when I told him to. I didn't mean it.

I get up and walk to the kitchen. The little bulb from the fridge is the only light in the house. I was looking for some milk. Mom's solution for nightmares, but we run out of it this morning and I forgot to buy. I carefully write it on the "must do" list "Buy milk" and then I smile: One more thing to do.

I drink some water but I know it won't have the same effect as milk. No homely feelings attached to a glass of water. I take it to my bedroom. I need my sleep. I secretly hope for a deep dreamless sleep like the one I haven't had in weeks. No luck.

I wake up soaked in my own sweat at the sight of the lab after the explosion. In my dream, Ed was there too and I killed him. I wipe away the tears and I curse myself for forgetting about the milk. I know I won't last much longer. I need my sleep, but there's no way I'm going to risk having another nightmare. I'm even surprised at my twisted mind. I can't believe some of the things it's made me see.

I lay in fetal position and hum some lullaby I have no words for. There's no way I'm going to cry again. Lindsay's got enough, I won't wake her up with my sobbing, I'll just hum myself in some kind of mantra till pain goes away, or morning arrives. Once the sun rises, all my demons hide and I become myself again. That's what Lindsay needs. She needs her mother back.

Another thought stings: She needs her daddy back. But that, I can't provide.

Never thought I'd say this but I want him back. Not to my life but hers. That's what I thought the last time. He knew and took advantage of it. He showed up and I couldn't make him leave. I still can recall the exact moment when his yelling became arousing and his anger exciting. I still can recall why I let him touch me. I loved him. And to my surprise, I still do.

"Lindsay needs me Cath, and you won't hide her from me!"

He loved her. That was the only thing I knew for sure. He may have thought I was a good lay, a good wife or just something to come back home to, but he loved our daughter. I never intentionally tried to keep her away from him. I was just too hurt to consider seeing him again.

"Lindsay needs me! And I need her too!"

"What for? To play houses with her and your new girlfriend?"

I never knew what felt so sexy about our arguments, guess they were just really passionate, and after five minutes I was already half naked and pinned beneath him on what I still called "our bed".

I repress a shiver as I remember that last time.

I was so far gone I couldn't process what we were doing. Not till he got inside me. One single thought came to my mind then. 'Protection'. After more than a decade of marriage I found myself wondering where had he put 'it' before me. Where 'it' had been. And that was it.

I cried, I yelled, I kicked and pushed but he wouldn't stop. Too late for second thoughts. I finally gave up the fighting and let him finish hoping he'd be as fast as hell. He was.

That was our last time. The one I'll remember forever.

I don't think he ever knew how that made me feel. It was good sex for him. I'd call it painful. Some would have said rape. It doesn't matter anymore. I told him to die and he seemed surprised. He didn't understand what made me so angry. As soon as I was freed of his weight I ran to the bathroom.

"Hey baby. what's wrong?"

"Go to hell and die!"

That made him mad. I didn't care. He slammed the door when he left and I almost burned my skin off in the shower. I don't think he ever really knew.

But he did die.

My stomach growls and I feel sick. I try to make it to the bathroom but I can't. I think about my "must do" list and mentally write "Clean bedroom carpet mess" as I walk back to bed. There are still two more days of suspension waiting for me and I doubt I'll survive.