"We never used to go to bed angry, but it's all we ever do lately. You're turning away from me as though you hate me...tell me, do you hate me?
Because you can take this heart of mine, heal it or break it all apart. It isn't fair, you can either love me - or leave me here,"
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Your husband, of ten years, let out a growl, burying his face in his hands as you shook your head, doing the same. From the simple outlook of his stance, there was no doubt that he was in utter distress, clearly disturbed - just as much as you were. The entire house was quiet, aside from the very loud exchange of words, and the occasional crashing of kitchen utensils being shattered mercilessly. To make matters worse, it was just a few minutes after midnight, and you were sure that the neighbours were due to file a complaint, any moment now. The violent altercations between you and your spouse might have seemed unconventional, and rightfully so - but regardless of that fact, the altercations were far from new, meaning that the entire situation did not seem unconventional, if things were to be analyzed based on your perspective. Every night, without fail, there was always something sinister unfolding with the walls of the home that you shared with your musician husband - who happened to be an extremely talented individual, internationally recognized for his role as a band member in the English rock group that was better known as Queen. As everyone, who did ample research, was aware of - there were four members: Freddie, John, Roger, and Brian; from there, it was all too evident that your husband had been the last name stated, making you the proud wife of an astrophysicist.
