Marion Bates

Darling. A soft voice echos. Darling, it’s time to wake up. Slowly coming to your senses you wake up in a strange house looking like something out of the 1950’s you try to move but find yourself strapped to the chair, before laid a spread of a delicious breakfast and a woman sitting across from you smiling. Hello my darling, what perfect day for our perfect marriage! A string of wedding rings adorns the woman’s necklace a bloody knife sits in front of her. Am I a perfect wife?