She pretends to be asleep as he stumbles into the bedroom, reeking of alcohol and cheap women's perfume. He flops on the bed mumbling that he loves her and falls asleep. She lays there while he's sleeping and wonders what she has done. The next night when she comes home he is passed out in front of the television, the bedroom smells like cheap perfume and sex. She changes the sheets and falls into a restless sleep, until the morning when she finds a note on the table that says "You deserve better." He is right she does deserve better, but she wants him.
Sometimes just as she is beginning to drift off to sleep, she swears she can feel it, his arm wrapped around her waist, protectively pulling her to him every so often, and just as she goes to snuggle into him, her eyes snap open. Sleep isn't going to come easy now as she rolls over and sees the spot he always occupied, empty. She gets up and gets his cologne from the dresser and sprays it around the room. She lays back down and breathes in the scent, he is back, lying next to her, arm wrapped protectively around her pulling her close to him needing to be as close to her as possible.
Her voice echoes off the bare walls of the room, mocking her, as she sobs. Her sobs turn into screams soon, she doesn't think she'll ever stop, because at least she's feeling something, this way at least she knows she's still alive. She falls back against the door, her sobs slightly subsided, as she tries to be as still as possible, waiting for the echo. She swears sometimes she can hear him, see him, sometimes it feels like he is standing right next to her, instead of a faded photograph across the room. But he isn't, he took everything just about, all except for the photographs and her ring. This way she knows it was real once, he was real and not just a figment of her imagination, as many things concerning him were.