As he wandered through the streets, back towards his small home, he observed the world. The smiling sun as it spilled gold over the cobbled streets, the birds scattering throughout the deep pink sky. The civilians who surrounded him, passionately going about their lives, striving to find whatever it was they were looking for. And he, the observer, was also striving to find something. He was 22, married already, and he worked at the local radio station. Medium length, chocolate brown locks hung neatly about his face; a refined, slightly effeminate face, blue eyes shining out from behind the glasses perched politely on his nose, and a beauty spot lay by his thin pink lips. He was dressed eloquently as usual; a casual suit in a flattering shade of blue matched with a white tie, although he did prefer cravats. Battered brown briefcase in hand, the man floated slowly through the sunset. So many colours surrounded him. And he hated it.

If only his sight wasn't so necessary to him, he would certainly like to rip his eyes out, stop the ugly colour. He had what many had said was a gift, a blessing, the ability to perceive sound as colour, to see sound. A blessing indeed, if people didn't say such foul things, if noise wasn't so disgusting. His only reconciliation was that his sight was impaired. If he removed his glasses, the world wasn't as hideous. But for him to read music, to endeavour to make something beautiful, he had to see everything. It was a curse.

The young man, upon reaching his home, rummaged in his pocket for his keys, praying he'd left them at work. Praying he didn't have to go in and face the ugliest thing of all. Alas, his hand produced the house keys. And automatically, he emotionlessly walked down the path, unlocked the door, and called out to what he wished was an empty house. But it never was.

"Roderich!"

The scream reverberated through the house. The young man winced at the noise, the dirge of colour blinding him. How she made his name so horrific he didn't know. The ugliest thing of all was her scream.

Roderich barely registered the sound of her rushing down the stairs as he focused his attention on locking the door and placing his briefcase on the kitchen table. Her incoherent muttering was quiet enough for him to read the letters on the counter, before he had to turn and face her.

Wild eyes glinted from behind her tangled hair. She was almost feral, clothes dirty and torn. She smiled manically when finally Roderich met her gaze. Roderich tutted, simply saying "Look how you've ruined your clothes, I'll have to get you some more now." He turned back to the letters, hoping she would disappear. No such luck.

Out of nowhere, she would snap like this. Turn from a strange dainty creature, into a deranged animal. She wasn't always this way. It was only when they had married that he had seen her darker side. She had been a sweet, caring girl, beautiful and appreciative. She had made Roderich see beauty. Now, she was an unstoppable juggernaut. And it was Roderich's fault.

She screamed again, for about the sixth time he thought, but he hadn't really been counting, more avoiding the various objects he was being pelted with. Believing he might be able to reason with her this time, he turned to face her, but had to dive out of the way as she hurled a porcelain bird at him. Only stopping to contemplate his next move, Roderich crawled into the hallway. That bird, it had been a wedding present.

It was then that Roderich saw the sound that he knew was trouble. A clang. His darling wife had found the frying pan. Her beloved frying pan. He was too terrified to make a move towards the stairs as she slowly stepped out of the kitchen. The light from outside was fading fast. Soon he wouldn't be able to see to make his escape.

She bent over his trembling form, her delicate features only just discernable in the half light. The maniacal grin was back, plastered to her face, but cracking slightly. Cocking her head to one side, she whispered; "Look what I have here Roddy." She produced the pan from behind her back. "You've been very, very bad. It's your fault I am this way you know. And now, you have to be punished."

"Elizaveta, please!" Roderich cried out, bracing himself for the inevitable. It's all my fault… The pan swung down, but he ducked out of the way, and on all fours he began to scramble up the stairs. It's all my fault… She screeched in anger, and he in turn barrelled towards the nearest room. It's all my fault… Slamming the door behind him with a painful splash of colour, he seated himself in front of the piano. It's all my fault…

The wedding night was the night she had turned. The next morning he had found her in the bathroom crying, and she hadn't stopped until they'd gotten to the new house. Roderich had even had to cancel the honeymoon because she was completely inconsolable.

On the ninth day she stopped.

She had woken him up with the sound of crashing in the kitchen, and when he had run downstairs to see what was going on, he had been greeted by the frying pan. Elizaveta was different. She said she was impure. And of course it was Roderich's fault. She was impure; no longer the beautiful virgin she once was. But there was one difference that made Roderich certain that she was a changed woman.

It's all my fault… His fingers flew across the keys, playing such splendour that might cover the wretched noise coming from his wife. She burst through the door bawling; "STOP THAT NOISE!"

That's how he knew. She had loved his music… But now…

It's all my fault… And once again, Roderich let the blackness envelop him as he was bludgeoned by the woman he loved.