Prism of Passion: When The Closet Door Creeks Open

🔹Another Dismal Tuesday

The house was still, Cam and Charlee had yet to come home from work that day. Dust settled into place on the same shelf the same way it always had, never to be disturbed until their scheduled cleaning day. The dog paced the same way down the same hallway, the same way he did every day. Needless to say, life at the Beethoven's had become incredibly dull. Harder and harder each day to find the joy in the place this distant couple called home. Charlee had begun finding glimpses of happiness within her work. Often spending extra hours at the office, extending her shifts past evening hours.
Cam, as most mindless men would be, was completely clueless. He had no idea about Charlee's need, her craving, for more. He came home everyday the same.
"What's for dinner." Cam barked, as more of a statement than a question worth replying to.
"I don't know, find something." Charlee tiredly replied, already shoving bread into the toaster for herself.
"Whatever, I'm going out." He said coldly.
Cam put his coat back on and headed for the door, not even glancing twice to see Charlee's eyes welling with tears. Her heart broke over again, just as it did every time he spoke to her with such distain. Her once loving and tender husband now treating her with what felt like hatred. She couldn't help but to feel despair and emptiness envelope her in a bittersweet embrace. She spent most nights alone, as Cam would oftentimes go out to bars after work, barely stopping home for more than a little cash.  She'd sit out under the stars and dream of the lover she once knew.
Slowly drifting off into peaceful slumber where and only where her daydreams could become reality again. She smiled to herself, remembering their most precious moments together. Their honeymoon, the day they bought their house, when they adopted their puppy together. The way Cam had looked at her those days had faded fast, as she hadn't seen the glimmer of love in his eyes in many years.

As their  dreary story together continues, Cam stumbles into the house, deep into the night. The same drunken night relapsed over again. Knocking over precious keepsakes for Charlee to put back together in the morning. He makes his way up the stairs and to their bedroom, reeking of alcohol and the stench of dirty bar floor. As he crawls into bed next to his wife, who has become more of a stranger to him than anything. Charlee comes to again and realizes the life she's just woken up to. Cam's grimy hands find their way up her back as he whispers slurred nothings into her ear. Making her feel nothing less than disgust through her entire body. She rips away from him and leaves him to go to their guest bedroom, where one of them were always staying.
She climbed into the empty queen sized mattress that engulfed her in loneliness and stale memories. The only time he ever wanted to touch her was when he was past the point of being himself. She wondered if it were her. If she had changed, if he had lost attraction to her. As she lied there in the pitch black room, wallowing in her own self loathing and blame, she began to wonder if this was it for her.