The honeymoon is definitely over, he thought to himself looking down at his cold and heartless bride.
She was supposed to have ensured the log cabin was fully stocked with provisions, yet they arrived to half empty cupboards.
She was supposed to be honest, so why had she looked at his cards when he went to the outhouse to take a leak?
It was supposed to have been the start of a new life together, but the sudden arrival of winter had put an end to that fairy tale.
As the wind whistled through the cracks in the cabin and the snow piled higher, he took the mallet and smashed up another chair, throwing it onto the fire and huddling closer to its warmth.
He took stock of the situation. Yes, there would be enough furniture to stay warm over the coming months, but the food would be gone in a matter of days.
He’d had no choice really. What was he supposed to do, leave them both to die?
He put the frying pan on the fire and waited for it to heat, before adding the meat. The sizzle and the smell caused his ravenous mind to smile, the rumble of his stomach competed with the wind.
He distracted himself by looking out the window, down at his cold and heartless bride. But the smell was too much and he returned to the fire and demolished the meat.
Just like chicken, he thought, then started cooking the heart.