Her husband sat in a chair beside her bed, his head in his hands. She flew up the covered stairs and knocked upon his door. The last thing that she remembered was her eyes crossing as she tried to focus upon the crunch of leaves as she lay heaving upon them, dampening them further with the outpouring of her sweat as it leaked from her clothing. All this juncture, a thundering crash was heard against the side of the bridge. ‘—and I love your raven hair, and your bright blue eyes, and your very kissable lips—’ suiting the action to the words ‘—and I love the crazy way you speak English, and the way you curse at me. He watched her constantly, trapped her in corners and slept with his arms locking her like a human cage.
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