I broke my promise the minute I saw her.

Not in the way you probably think, though. It wasn't a promise to take care of her because it was love at first sight. It was a promise to let her know, to let her know just what happened ...

Yes, she was beautiful, perfect really, but what I saw made her ugly. So, I broke my promise because she didn't deserve to know.

And then I took her because she deserved to suffer the way I had—emotionally. Alone even when surrounded by people. Lonesome for eternity.

She'd be my wife so she could live beside me, never finding love but only the indifference and hate I bestowed upon her. Who would want that kind of life by choice? Who would want to shackle themselves to a scarred man—both physically and mentally? I didn't give her a choice. I gave her an ultimatum, and she couldn't refuse. And I vowed she'd live a lonely life with a husband right beside her.

That's the thing about vows ... Sometimes, they are broken. And promises? Sometimes, you manage to keep them even when you don't want to.