The smell of pancakes caresses my nose as I wake. I blink, the daylight too bright. George Michael's voice floats towards me. I reach for my phone, confusion aching my already banging head. Surely I haven't forgotten our anniversary? God. I dread to think about Michael's reaction to that fact if I have. Maybe I can blame my gruelling work schedule. April 15th. Nope. Our anniversary isn't for another six days yet. I let out a sigh of relief at this revelation. 

If it isn't our anniversary, why on Earth is Michael making pancakes to George Michael whilst I remain tucked up in the warmth of our duvet? Before I can vacate our bed to find out, Michael's footsteps boom through the house towards the stairs. I hear him hum slightly. A tune that is both familiar and haunting. Our first dance. 

"Now you're mine properly, no-one else can have you" Michael had whispered in my ear as we swayed to and fro. Neither of us were good dancers and this was the absolute best our guests were going to get. I laughed deeply at this. 

"Well that is obvious Mr Smith" 

He had looked down at me, a face cold and stern. A look I hadn't witnessed in him before that point.

"If you ever leave me, I will kill you. That is a promise. You're mine now. Mine"

I had  put his statement down to the alcohol we had consumed, but his words sent shivers through me nonetheless. Our honeymoon had been a magical and happy occasion, so I very quickly  accepted my initial assumption and forgot the conversation entirely. Until now.

Until this moment, I did not know a single sound, a single melody, could entice such fear in a person. I can't breathe as his footsteps come closer to our bedroom. I crouch in on myself, trying to become as small and inconspicuous as possible. I pray quietly to a god I don't believe in. Bargaining with him. If Michael is in a good mood, if I don't upset him again, I promise I will pray more often. I'll donate to charities more. I'll host a fundraiser. 

My eyes spring open as the door slowly creaks to life. Michael grins at me, tray in hand. I let out the breath I had been holding. He's in a good mood.