The Substitute Bride

In the dead of night, the silence is broken by the faint sound of water droplets hitting the floor, drip, drip, like the soft footsteps of the Grim Reaper. The wind lifts the heavy curtains, bringing in a rush of fresh air and carrying with it the faint smell of blood. “Why?” The words come haltingly. In the corner, a man lies curled up like a rag doll run over by a car. His breath is so faint that he seems to be drawing ever closer to death. “Why did you kill me?” He gasps, and at last a complete sentence escapes his pale, cracked lips. One drop at a time, blood trickles from his hands and feet, slowly...