Scorched Dove

    She was beyond rage.

    The emotions that churned within her breast exceeded all known boundaries. They were summoned from the hidden part of all of us that is capable, when provoked, of conjuring up the very essence of evil. His betrayal had made it so.

    Samantha stared at the reminder from a happier time, when his love had made her whole. The shattered glass of the picture frame did little to mar the ambient joy of this wedding portrait. But now, all that had changed -- forever.

    He had committed what was for her an unpardonable sin -- infidelity. Yet worse than the deceit itself, was that he had so carelessly allowed himself to be caught in the worst of all places, in their home, on their bed.

    "How could you?" she shrieked through clenched teeth.

    Samantha searched his eyes for a hint of contrition, but found instead only fear.

    Having been bound and gagged before regaining consciousness, all he could do was squirm on the floor where he had fallen after she had struck him with the bat. She had considered greeting his lover in a similar manner, but fearing God's wrath had allowed her to run screaming from the house, wearing nothing but a ribbon in her hair.

    Samantha dropped the picture into the trash can and followed it with a lit match.

    As the flame within the canister gained momentum she whispered, "For us," before lifting the can and spilling its contents upon the bed.