"I don't love you." he whispered in her ear as he gently stroked her hair. She slept soundly nestled in the crook of his arm, and in the night he talked to her. "I never loved you. Nobody loves you." He held her tightly to him and went back to sleep.

The first time he did it, Kirk had no idea why. He and Leslie had been married for a year. They had a nice house in a nice neighborhood. He had a job he liked and a wife who cared for him. Leslie was beautiful and strong and she loved Kirk.

He wondered if she would hear him if he talked to her while she slept. Leslie was a sound sleeper. He held her in his arms and spoke softly in her ear.

"I don't love you." he said, even as he cradled her in his arms. He didn't know why he said it, but there was no taking it back.

He watched Leslie carefully in the morning. He studied her every move as she got dressed and made their breakfast. He was still watching as she poured his coffee.

"What?" she said.
"What?"
"What are you looking at?"
"You." If she had heard him during the night, she gave no indication.
"I was noticing how pretty you are."
"Silly fool." she said kindly, "I haven't even washed my hair yet."

He didn't say it again. Not right away. It was months later. She slept soundly in his arms, but he was awake.
"I don't love you." he kissed her forehead. "Nobody loves you."

She looked the same at breakfast. Kirk began to wake up more often in the middle of the night. Sometimes he talked to her, just to see if it would make any difference.
"Nobody has ever loved you." he said as she slept.

He was doing it more often now. He had been doing it for a long time, out of habit. Almost every night. Leslie never answered, never stirred. He noticed she was looking tired in the mornings.

"Sleep badly?" he asked her one morning.
"No. I guess not. I just feel a little down."
"You've seemed subdued lately. Something wrong?"
"No. I don't think so." She didn't have a clue.
"I have an idea. Let's go out to the lake this weekend. We'll have some fun."
"That would be nice."

He took her out for dinner at her favorite place. He brought her flowers. He was kind and gentle to her, but he still talked to her every night.

"Nobody loves you." He began to get more inventive. "You'd be better off dead. Everybody would be happy. Nobody has ever loved you. I know I don't. I don't love you." and he realized that it was true.

Leslie was depressed. She had no idea why. Kirk was so good to her, took such good care of her. But she didn't feel any better.
"Don't slam the door." she snapped.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart. My hands are full." He had brought her flowers again.
"What do you want for supper?"
"I don't care."
"Did you see Dr. Janssen today?"
"Yes."
"And?"
"And he gave me a prescription."
"Did you pick it up yet?"
"Yes."
"Want to see a movie tonight?"
"No." She didn't want to go anywhere. "Go without me if you like."
"I'll stay here with you."
"Dear, sweet Kirk. I don't deserve you."

He noticed she was getting worse. The last few months were as if she was caught in a giant downward vortex. She slept longer and more often, and had to quit her job. He called her a couple of times a day from the office, just to check on her. Sometimes she didn't answer the phone.

He came home one day to find smudges of blood on the walls. All of the walls. In every room. He found her in the bedroom, flopped on the bed. The blankets were sticky and wet. She had written on the wall, above the bed. She had used her own blood. "I'm sorry" was all it said.

It would take a long time for the stains to come out.