Watching the blossoming trees pass, her mind trailed off to the old days. The day where her husband romantically proposed to her. The days where even just being around him made butterflies tumble around in her stomach. It has been getting old.

“Do you think we have enough butter at the house?” he asked. He glanced over at her, one hand on the steering wheel and the other grasping her hand in between them.

“Hm?” she mumbled, her glazed eyes just staring out the car window.

“I asked if we had enough butter at the house. You know, for Thanksgiving dinner,” he replied, his lips turning down into a frown. It was always irritating to him whenever she was lost in her own head.

She slowly turned her head to look at him, her thoughts coming back to the present, “Um, yes. I made sure of it, sweetheart.” Sweetheart. She only used that word when she knows she is annoying him, as if discreetly asking him to forgive her. She used to say it all the time, always lovingly. Now it just seemed forced. They continued home in silence, both wondering different things. She was asking herself what she was doing with her life, while he was thinking that everything seemed to be changing.

“Is something wrong?” he suddenly asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. Should she tell him? This seemed to be the only chance she would have. He asked and she should answer truthfully.

“Actually, there is. I’ve been meaning to tell you but-“

A loud ear ringing beep sounded, making them both look towards the source. An outsized truck came swerving towards them. The man driving the monstrous vehicle looked on with horror as he tried to take control of the wheel.

A high pitched scream pierced the air as her husband put his arm in front of his wife to try to protect her as much as he could. With a crunch, the truck crashed into the driver’s side, causing the car to screech and flip. Her body lurched forwards, knocking the breath out of her lungs. Car appliances flew everywhere as the car continued somersaulting, causing her head to roughly pitch forward. Her eyes couldn’t focus on anything in particular and everything seemed to be spinning. She felt something pierce her abdomen as the vehicle finally groaned and landed on the passenger side.

She tightly closed her eyes, hoping that this was just a nightmare. That the pain burning her veins was just an illusion. Slowly turning her head to the left, she saw her husband slumped over the steering wheel. Smoke filled the air, making her wince. Reaching her arm out, she nudged her husband.

“John. Wake up,” she coughed, the smoke filling her lungs. He didn’t budge.

Searing pain filled her stomach as she tried to move. Looking down she found a crimson spot on her white blouse, slowly becoming larger. With confusion at first, she slowly touched her hand to the spot, blood coming off on her hand.

What the…? To the right of her, she glanced at the shattered passenger window. Glass was thrown all around the ground. One long piece of glass in particular seemed to be dripping red. Realization suddenly hit her like a ton of bricks. She had been stabbed.

With a laboring and shaky breath, she leaned her head back. Closing her eyes, panic coursed through her injured body. She didn’t want to die like this. Any way but this way. She could feel the blood around her abdomen slowly pool around her, making her breathing become a little slower.

Her thoughts flashed back to the memories of her husband and her once more. She flashed back to the happiness that was fading away. She was meaning to tell him about her accidental affair. She was meaning to tell him how lonely she felt. But that was when the truck came.

With her vision becoming blurry, she turned to look at her husband for the last time. She didn’t want to die next to him. She didn’t want to die at all. A painful thought entered her last thoughts, her heart beating less frequently.

She wanted her death to at least be peaceful.