I felt exhausted. It was another long, dreary Monday, and I couldn’t wait to just fall into bed. I pulled into my driveway, half asleep already. I entered the house to find all the lights were out, as usual. My wife, Angela, was probably already asleep in bed. I figured I would do the same.
I didn’t even bother turning on the lights- I can navigate my way through this house blind. Besides, I didn’t want to wake her. The bedroom door creaked as I opened it, slowly. I inched my way to my side of the bed and crawled in. I moved close to Angela and wrapped my arm around her. I knew she was asleep, but I felt her embrace me as I held her. Her body felt a little cold, but I took little notice. I slowly drifted to sleep, with the love of my life held tightly in my arms.
4:00AM. I woke up, after having a bad dream. I was so thirsty, I had to get a drink. Fumbling around the dark, I hoped I wouldn’t wake Angela. She was still asleep.
I walked over to the bathroom mirror and flicked on the light. As I opened my eyes, I began to panic. The entire counter was encrusted in dried, flaking blood. Bloody footprints on the floor. Splashes of blood leading out of the room. I couldn’t breathe. With my heart beating out of my chest, I got up and followed the footprints to the bathroom closet. I slowly opened the door, and screamed.
My once beautiful wife, lay here, sliced open and mutilated, nailed to the wall inside.
I started cursing, screaming and crying. What the hell was I supposed to do? Should I call the cops? Who could have done this? I slowly regained my senses. Then I turned around and looked outside of the bathroom…
Who was that person lying in my bed?