About a week ago, my wife began displaying a myriad of strange, manic behaviors. I realized something was abnormal when I woke up one morning with her standing over me—just watching. When I asked her if everything was alright, she spoke to me with words of adoration and expressed her obsession with me. It was like she fell in love with me all over again. Some might say how lucky I am to have such a bright spark rekindling my marriage after 17 years, but I assure you it’s not like that.
For the remainder of the day, she wouldn’t leave my side. Any time I tried to sneak off to breathe some unshared air I heard her frantic footsteps stamping the floor as she searched for me, screaming my name. At first, her neediness was charming and slightly amusing, but when I had to use the restroom to take care of business and she began beating on the door with tears in her eyes, begging me to let her in, I grew concerned. Even after all the years spent together, I think about the way she watched me at that moment with great discomfort.
In just two days’ time, life became hell. At night she would wake me up as soon as I crossed over and demanded that I wait for her to fall asleep before getting any myself—the only issue being that she quit sleeping all together. If it wasn’t her, physically keeping me from falling asleep, it was the threats of what she would do to me if I did that kept my eyes pried open. All Sunday night I laid in bed watching her stare at me. I wasn’t allowed to turn over because she requested that she see my face.
By the morning, I was delirious, a total madman. My salvation was my alarm. I got out of bed and in total synchrony, she got up with me. I walked to the closet to grab my work clothes with no intention of actually going. There was a hotel a few towns over I planned on checking into to get some sleep and call every doctor in the area to find out what the hell was going on with my wife. She asked what I was doing as if she hadn’t seen me get up for work for the past two decades. When I told her where I was going, she stared at me with confusion as if she had no concept of what work was. After telling her that I had no choice and I needed to get to work, she curled her fist and flattened me with power I didn’t know a 120-pound woman could have.
For the next few days, I only got out of bed to relieve myself, my wife always watching. I was a prisoner in my own home. The sleepless nights deteriorated my mind. Work blew up my phone, but I wasn’t allowed to answer unless I wanted to suffer the consequences.
On the final night of the charade, I shut my eyes, my body forcing sleep upon me. When she gave me a gentle nudge to wake me up, I snapped. I couldn’t take it anymore. I jumped out of bed ran out of the room. Outside in the shed, there was a 20 oz claw hammer hanging for my work bench. It was going to be a classic tale of, ‘she drove me to it.’
When I opened the shed door, I fell to my knees. My beautiful wife’s body laid on the blood-stained floor entirely mutilated; fear still frozen in her eyes. My beautiful wife that had given me the best years of my life. My beautiful wife that was supposed to be in my arms as we grew old together. Upstairs, through the bedroom, that horrendous thing staring down at me.
I want to go to the authorities, but I am terrified that whatever is inside my house impersonating my wife will suddenly take off, leaving me alone to explain the remains in the shed. I don’t see a way out of this and am writhing in fear of what’s going to happen when I go back in the house. I desperately need advice, and fast. Now it’s calling my name. Until I figure out my next move, I need to go inside and obey.