"Sonny, please forgive me! I swear, it never meant anything! None of it meant anything at all, Sonny," he cries out, his voice broken and torn.

A wry smile appears on Sonny's face for a moment, only a moment. But a moment all the same. "I'm sure it didn't," she tells him, sounding as though she was all-knowing, and nothing ever got past her. And she was right. Nothing even did get past her. She practically was all-knowing.

"What?" he asks her. He was confused, as any person would be at that moment in time. He doesn't know what is going on, and he always knows what's going on with Sonny, he has always known in the past. But he doesn't know what is happening in the here and now, and it scares him a little.

"I'm sure that she didn't mean anything to you," Sonny says with the same wry smile.

"You believe me? I love you, Sonny, not Tawni or Portlyn. I'm in love with you," he tells her as he smiles. She believes him! She isn't asking any questions! She believes him, and that is all that matters.

"I believe that you love me. I don't believe that you're in love with me though. You always were the best actor of the generation," Sonny tells him thoughtfully. "But do you know what being an actor means, Chad?" She isn't looking at him now, not now, because she is looking beyond him, beyond the house that they own, beyond the oceanfront property they are on. She is looking into a world that is her own. No one else is there, but it is perfect, because no one messes it up.

He starts to answer her question before he realizes that she never meant for him to come up with an answer. His answer doesn't match hers. But her answer is always right. He has told her time and time again. And only now does Chad see the error of his ways. He always chose the wrong path. When he chose left, she chose right. And she was always right.

"Being an actor means that your entire life is made of lies. Do you here me, Chad Dylan Cooper? Lies!" she screams as she tilts her head upwards. "Did you know that, Chad?"

And he opens his mouth before he realizes that she isn't talking to him. She is talking to anyone that will listen. She is in hysterics, he realizes as he looks at his wife in a brighter light. Tears stream down her face as she laughs at something that no one said. Her chestnut brown hair flings behind her wildly as her hands bury her face and she sobs into them.

He walks over to her slowly, putting great consideration into each step. Suddenly, when he only has a few more steps to go, she whips her head around and stares at him in recognition and then realizes what she is doing. She stands erect and glares at him. "You're life is made of lies, Chad," she states simply, as though it is a common fact.

"Your life is in shambles. You're in denial, Chad, can't you see that?!" And again she lifts her face to the sky and laughs, a high and cold sound that is unfamiliar to his ears. It is clear and beautiful, he can't deny it, but there is something so sinister and so evil in it that makes him rethink his previous steps towards her and so he backs up into the corner of the room.

"I believe that the affair with Tawni meant nothing. I believe that the affair with Portlyn meant nothing. I believe that they meant absolutely nothing to you. But what about me, Chad? You talk so soothingly, your words are like a distant lullaby in a far away land. But lullabies only lull those who listen to them asleep. And believe me, Chad. I stopped listening a long time ago. I mean nothing to you, Chad Dylan Cooper. I've never meant anything to you, and I probably never will. It does really matter to me, either way, Chad. But it matters to you."

And the wry smile is back again, wider than before. Her eyes are bright and alive, so alive, that it scares him a little, just a little. Suddenly, she looks more beautiful then he could ever have imagined as she reaches on the table for something. And then it occurs to him why she called him out her in the first place. His brain is trying for something, anything, that could get him out of this, but the pressure is up so high that the only sound that is made as Sonny Monroe-Cooper reaches for the hand gun that lies on table is the rushing of the waves in the sea outside, telling him that his time is limited. But he doesn't care, not really. She was right of course, she was always right. He really hadn't loved her, but she was a trophy wife. She was pretty to look at, she wasn't dumb (Sharper than a tack really. Maybe that had been his first mistake.), she made him laugh more than anyone else that he knew, and she had always been quicker than a whip with the comebacks that she threw at him.

But the first quality he had noticed was really what had always attracted him the most. Her beauty was boundless. She had him captivated with one smile of Crest White-Strip blinding teeth, and one toss of the hair that belonged on a Pantine commercial. And he figured that was the closest he was ever going to get to love, so he went for it. Of course he went for it; he would have had to have been a fool to not have gone for it. And so they had gotten married later. He hadn't really been in love with her, per say. More so the idea of her instead of the being.

And Sonny smiles at him, and he smiles with her. He is a traitor for betraying their marriage that she tried to keep together and he deserves this sadistic fate as she squeezes the trigger and the life goes out of him. Sonny sets the gun back on the table, calls the cops and tells them that her husband was murdered. She hangs up the phone before she has to lie. It's true what she has told them. Her husband was murdered. They never asked if she did it.

Sonny Munroe-Cooper was brilliant, really. She didn't have the mind for math, and she never really did like history, but she knew that there was a reason that loved watching crime shows. She doesn't have many regrets from her life, and as she sits down on her couch at thirty years old, now a widow to the late Chad Dylan Cooper, her only real regret is that she hadn't thought of doing it sooner. She quietly opens up a pad of paper and writes something down before smiling to herself as she gently pulls the trigger again, this time, pointed at her very own head.

Do or do not. There is no try