After He's Gone

I’m standing in the middle of our living room looking at my husband’s dead body in front of me.

I know it’s my husband. I know he’s dead. What I don’t know is whether I killed him.

How did it all go so wrong?

There’s so much blood. Soaking into our white carpet.

I try to clean up the mess, scrubbing away at the blood, wondering how I got here.

Am I really as crazy as he’s been making out all this time?