The stained glass window shattered easily under the impact of his fist. Shards stuck in his hand, blood trickling down and dripping onto the floor. The sound of it seemed to be magnified in the silence of the room. He feared she would awaken from the sound. But she didn’t. Nor did the sound of his heavy boots snapping the glass formerly depicting an ascending angel awaken her. It wasn’t until the rustle of the lace bed curtains did she stir in her sleep. He looked down on the sleeping woman nestled under the heavy blankets. Her thick black hair shone under the light of the moon and her skin was washed of all color, making her seem pale.