As the night drew nearer, anxiety trapped Gomez in its devilish grasp. The reality of what he had done by marrying Ophelia hit him with such force that he developed pains in his chest. Tight and sharp, he was convinced that he was suffering from a heart attack. The thought didn't distress him, instead he welcomed death as an old friend. He would rather slip into eternal darkness with the grim reaper, than have to face his marital bed.

Imagining Ophelia writhing beneath him revolted him. There was only one body he craved, only one soul that controlled his passion, yet she was not his. Gomez indulged in visualizing Morticia's breathless form arching as he studied each blossomed curve with determined hands. Lost in his fantasy, Gomez did not hear the soft voice call his name from across the room.

"Gomez!" Ophelia became slightly more demanding. Finally, he turned his head, eyes heavily glazed with thought. Ophelia considered his reserved demeanor for a moment before deciding that it was the result of being tired after such a big day.

"Dear husband, I think it is time that we head to bed."

"Bed!?" Gomez sprang to life, hopping out of his chair and crossing away from Ophelia. "But the night is so young, Ophelia. The sun has just gone, we'll miss the moon if we go up now."

Ophelia's eyes widened, and she mindlessly plucked at her bouquet of daisies. As the crumpled petals fell to the oriental rug, she let out a sigh.

"But, dear husband, early to bed, early to rise!" her chipper voice bit at his ears. A lifetime without night, that's what stood before him. Ophelia was bright eyed, cheerful, and her golden hair sprouted countless white flowers. Of course she lived for the sun, she was its creature. Gomez did not despise sunlight, but he preferred the mystery of the moon. Her cool light kissing the deepest night with tenderness, while the depths of the ocean swayed to her music, that was his moon. The pains in his chest tightened as he thought about the silver celestial beacon to which he confessed his darkest desires. How like the enigmatic beauty of night, was Morticia.

"Come along, Gomez." Ophelia had appeared at his side, tugging on the sleeve of his coat.

"Ophelia, we mustn't be rude. We should at least bid our families goodnight."

"But, dear, they know it is our wedding night. I'm sure they do not expect to see us for another day."

Gomez swallowed, every attempt to distract her was being thwarted.

"But, if it is your wish to bid them goodnight, then we shall."

Relief flooded him at her words. It would not prevent him from facing her, but at least it bought him more time. They went in search of their various family members, finding their mothers first. Each utterance of "goodnight" caused Gomez's panic to rise, signifying that his time was running out. Morticia was the only person left, and they could not find her anywhere. Ophelia asked her mother where her elusive sister was hiding.

"She was with kitty cat, but if you didn't see her with him I suppose she went to bed."

Despair captured Gomez, a void filled the place beneath his ribs where his heart once had been. He was doomed to wander into the bleak abyss that awaited him, without one last look at his reason for living. No thoughts could soothe him as the final strike of his tortuous future killed all his hope. With lead feet, he followed Ophelia up to the master bedroom. Every step clawed at the remains of his vitality until he was completely drained while crossing the threshold into marital anguish.

Ophelia turned on him as soon as the door closed. His skin crawled at her touch, her closeness making him nauseous. She wiggled her hips against him as she pecked at his face. The unwanted lips relentlessly commanded his attention. With more force than he meant, Gomez pushed Ophelia away. Her slender body flew towards the bed before she regained her stability.

"Rougher, Gomez? I understand completely." Ophelia grabbed his hand and flipped him, sending Gomez through the air before smacking against the hard floor. Ophelia smiled, pleased with the skilled flip that debilitated her husband. Suddenly she was disrobing, leaving a pile of white fabric to pool at her feet. Exposed, Ophelia waited for Gomez to attack her with desire. He jumped to his feet, but instead of capturing his wife in a lusty embrace he ran passed her. Ophelia shuddered at the slam of the door. The sound of Gomez getting violently ill filled her ears. She rushed to ask if he was alright. He blamed the consumption of few glasses of alcohol for his sudden ailment. The answer satisfied Ophelia, so she crawled into bed undisturbed by his absence.

Gomez, however, continued to vomit his guts out. When at last he could heave no more, he snuck out of the bathroom. The sight of Ophelia's sleeping form under the satin sheets made him sweat with anxiety, so he fled. He ran down the hallway with no clear destination until he passed her door. Halting, he began to regain his senses. Slowly, he turned and walked back to her door. Behind the thick piece of wood was the love of his life, the sound of her stifled sobs tormenting Gomez's ears.