August 3rd, 2015
I had met my wife, Anessa, during college. I had seen her on campus before, but I had never talked with her. Eventually, she became friends with my roommate, and I ended up seeing a lot more of her then. She was beautiful, her hair a natural strawberry blonde and her face sprinkled with light freckles; her hair was silky, and one strand was always off to the side.
I eventually fell head over heels for her. How could I not? She was always so sweet and kind. I remember the moment I told her how much I loved her. She put her hand on my face, brushing my hair gently and kissing me. In that moment, I felt like I was floating; It was wonderful.
Of course, the more we were around eachother, the more obvious our flaws became to one another. For example, she would never fold her towels after getting out of the shower, no matter how many times I reminded her. She’d always laugh and say sorry, promising that she’d do it next time, despite the fact she never would. Sure, it got on my nerves, but it was human.
Recently, though. Anessa has been behaving differently. She was a little harsher than normal; sometimes even making jokes at my expense. Sure, this isn’t too odd, but it just wasn’t like her. This alone wasn’t enough to make me think something was wrong, but I got suspicious when I noticed wet towels hung up in the bathroom.
For a moment, I was happy that she’d finally done what she told me she would; however, it felt strange. I didn’t dare mention it, though. She had been colder to me already.
Despite how cold she’d been, I still loved her. I still do love her. Anessa is my everything, and I wouldn’t leave her for the world. She’s still as beautiful as ever, and I wouldn’t dare leave her, but…
A few days ago, I caught her looking at herself in the mirror. She stood still; she hadn’t noticed me. The sun shone down on her, framing her face perfectly. I stood there, watching her, and for about a minute I felt stuck. Time just passed by without me realizing. As soon as I snapped out of it, I noticed something very strange; the strand of hair was no longer off to the side.
I remember feeling like two parts of me were at war. I loved Anessa. I love Anessa. I don’t know what I’d do without her, but something just isn’t right. I can’t tell what’s wrong with her, but at the same time I don’t know if I should look any further.
August 5th, 2015
Anessa and I went to a restaurant today. She had been suggesting that I take her somewhere, and I decided I would. I would do anything for her. The restaurant was very high-end; I heard it usually took months to get a reservation, but Anessa said she’d try. She succeeded somehow. I thought it was odd, but I didn’t mention it. She had booked a table for two.
We arrived at the restaurant at 8:30. The waiter came up to us quickly; I watched him fiddle with his notepad and pen. His eyes remained fixed on Anessa. Something like this usually wouldn’t make me mad, but something in me was enraged. I didn’t do anything about it.
As the dinner went on, I noticed more and more men staring at her from across the room; even some women. She noticed, I was sure, because I watched her grin as she stared into her peanut butter soup. I bit my tongue and kept my mouth shut.
As we left, it seemed like Anessa’s fans increased. I watched as men mumbled to eachother in the street. A few people tried to catcall her; she payed them no mind.
As we came home, I turned to look at her.
“…Have you been doing anything different with your makeup lately?” I asked.
“No, not really,” she responded. “Is there something wrong with it?”
“No, God, of course not,” I said, quickly retracting my sentence. “It’s just… Have you noticed how many men have been looking at you?”
Anessa remained quiet. She smiled discreetly.
“Are you jealous, Sam?”
“I… No,” I said, fumbling with my words. She never usually acted like this. “It’s just-”
“Don’t worry,” she spoke, her lips parting carefully. “You’ll always be the one for me, okay?”
With that, she kissed me on the lips. Something about the kiss made me forget what I was originally thinking about; I wasn’t even sure what I said just a moment ago. She walked me to the bedroom.
August 7th, 2015
I am losing my mind. I’ve been keeping track of everything I thought was odd here, but reading over this, I don’t remember writing certain parts. I remember everything good; the way Anessa kissed me, or how beautiful she is and how much I love her, but I don’t remember anything about her being different.
Even if she was different, I’d still love her. I love everything about her. But something is wrong, and that feeling is rooted into my brain, and as I’m writing this, I don’t know what to do.
Anessa is at work. I know that right now, all the men in her office are looking her up and down, and it makes my blood boil. But I wasn’t like that before, apparently. According to what I’ve wrote, at least.
Some part of me is trying to warn me about something. I feel like I’m going crazy, but I can’t tell Anessa. I love her so much, but I don’t know if I trust her. I need help. If anyone is reading this, please help me.
August 10th, 2015
I love Anessa. I love her so much that I’d do anything for her. She’s mine and mine alone, and I am hers. She tells me that. She kisses me and whispers into my ear how good I’ve been. She lets me watch when she stares into the mirror, and she takes me everywhere. I’ve started to try and keep other men away from her. They don’t love her like I do.
I’d lie if I weren’t willing to kill for her. I would do anything, and I mean anything.
August 12th, 2015
I don’t remember what’s real or not. I have faint memories of Anessa before she became this, but they’re so faint, I don’t think they’re real. I love her so much that it feels like it’s killing me. Every once in a while, I snap back into reality. The faint feeling of infatuation stays in the back of my mind, but right now, I know that something is wrong.
This is not Anessa. This was never Anessa. Anessa is gone, and I need to leave.
August 20th, 2015
Sitting in a pool of your own blood on kitchen tile really lets you know how much of an idiot you are. This will be the last thing I ever write.
I should have known originally that she wasn’t Anessa. Anessa was too kind to ever behave like that. She wasn’t perfect, or obsessed with being it. That’s why I loved her. She was able to not take herself seriously, and she wasn’t always the center of attention.
I would say trying to leave was a horrible idea, but I don’t think there was anything else I could do. She would’ve gotten tired of me soon enough. At least I’ll die of my own accord.
If any of you think something’s different about your partner, trust your gut. I don’t want this to happen to anyone else. It makes my blood boil.
Sincerely, Sam Argennis