Buried Alive in His Hatred
5.7k Views · Ongoing · Piper Hayes
I died in the tenth year of our marriage. Not from illness, but from thirty-six hundred days of silent cruelty and penance.
Ten years ago, during that avalanche, he grabbed my hand at the last second. The girl he loved got buried under all that snow.
After that, even breathing felt like a crime.
He drank himself into oblivion, stayed out all night, and on the anniversary of her death, he'd wrap his hands around my throat and ask, "Why wasn't it you?"
I loved him for fifteen years, from childhood sweethearts to bitter strangers. I gave everything for even a hint of warmth from him. What I got instead was him shoving me down the stairs for her little sister.
When I open my eyes again, wind cuts through me and snow fills the air. I'm ten years in the past, back to that afternoon in the Alps.
This time, I'll give you what you want.
Ten years ago, during that avalanche, he grabbed my hand at the last second. The girl he loved got buried under all that snow.
After that, even breathing felt like a crime.
He drank himself into oblivion, stayed out all night, and on the anniversary of her death, he'd wrap his hands around my throat and ask, "Why wasn't it you?"
I loved him for fifteen years, from childhood sweethearts to bitter strangers. I gave everything for even a hint of warmth from him. What I got instead was him shoving me down the stairs for her little sister.
When I open my eyes again, wind cuts through me and snow fills the air. I'm ten years in the past, back to that afternoon in the Alps.
This time, I'll give you what you want.
















































