"What's the matter, Shannon?" I asked.
My wife of a year looked me straight in the eyes. Her beautiful blue eyes, blonde hair and slim figure had made her quite a catch. My own short brown hair, rugged face, and muscled frame had made me attractive to the ladies. Everyone thought of us as the perfect couple. "Will, life with you is... too perfect. You have a steady job, you take care of me and you give me all the love and affection I want. There's no sense of danger. No fear involved."
I blinked in confusion. "And...? I know you're only 23, and I'm 24, but stability is a good thing."
Shannon sighed. "I can see I'm not getting through to you." She pivoted on her heel and walked out the door, taking her handbag and nothing else. A motorcyclist was waiting outside on his bike. Shannon jumped on the back and wrapped her arms around him to hold on.
"I'll always love you, Shannon!" I called. Shannon turned her head and acknowledged my remark with a nod. The bike cranked into gear, and Shannon roared off into the fading daylight with her biker friend.
[6 months later]
I stared at the TV, not really watching the DVR'd game. The 34-13 demolition of Miami by Alabama felt cold. The same way my heart did. I still missed Shannon every day.
A loud noise from the front door broke into my thoughts. It didn't sound like a knock, but more as if someone had fallen against it. I snapped off the TV and rose to investigate.
A slim blonde woman was lying on the stoop. Her face was covered with bruises. Her clothes had been torn, as if she had been in a vicious fight. There was something familiar about her...
I scooped her up and carried her inside, then laid her down on the sofa. "Let's get you cleaned up, miss." I applied an antiseptic to the cuts on her face, then removed her tattered clothes. She was too weak to protest. More bruises and cuts covered her upper body. I applied more antiseptics, then drew her a bath.
As I settled her into the hot, relaxing water, she spoke. "Thanks, Will."