Scary Horror Stories by Dr. NoSleep - My wife has been peeking at me from around corners and behind furniture. Its gone from weird to terrifying.

Episode Date: January 25, 2023

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My wife Lynn and I have been together for six years and married for 11 months. Our entire history together has been very normal, and never once have I noticed any weird behaviors or red flags. I can't stress enough how out of character this whole thing is for her. Lynn is very kind, intelligent, and thoughtful. She's always been the no-nonsense type of person. Being childish or trying to scare me is not something she'd normally do. She doesn't even like watching horror movies.

When we first started dating, she agreed to watch The Shining with me because she knew how much I loved horror. She was so scared that she didn't even make it through half of the movie before we had to turn it off. She isn't into anything creepy and has never been into pranks. It's just not her cup of tea, and that's fine. But that's what's so strange about this. It's just so unlike her.

I should also add that she never had any mental health issues, and as far as I'm aware, it doesn't run in her family. I know some people are able to hide their mental health problems, but in the six years we've been together, I think I would have seen some sort of sign. Two months ago, I was in the kitchen making myself some coffee before work. I was running a bit late that morning and knew I wouldn't be able to make it to Dunkin' Donuts for my usual morning fix. I took a sip of my coffee as I hurried down the hall towards the front door when I happened to notice Lynn, peeking at me from around the corner ahead of me. I could only see her eyes, and a strand of her long dark hair hanging against the wall. The rest of her body was concealed behind the corner.

I nearly spilled my coffee when I saw her. I did burn this shit out of my lips. Jeez, Lynn, I said, wiping a few drops of coffee from my pants. You scared the shit out of me. She immediately popped out of view like a little kid that had been caught. I heard her scurry off towards the living room, and by the time I got to the front door, she was out of sight. It was really weird, and just totally out of character for her, like I said.

But I also found it kind of funny that she was being more playful and a little less serious. I shouted that I loved her and called her a weirdo. As I shut the door behind me, I heard her laughing. Her behavior was a bit odd, but it certainly wasn't something to call a priest over. I forgot about it by lunch, and by the time I got home, she was her normal self. I didn't bring it up, and neither did she. And life went on. The next incident happened three days later.

It was around 2 a.m., and I had woken up to get a drink. I was standing at the kitchen island with a jug of O.J. in hand, when I felt a strong feeling that I was being watched, For whatever reason, I looked down at the floor and saw my wife's smiling face staring back. She was peeking at me from the other side of the island, staring up at me with wide, unblinking eyes and grinning, grinning like the Cheshire cat. I screamed, I'll admit it, not out of irritation, but fear. For some reason at that moment, I was scared.

At the sound of my scream, Lynn scuttled backwards out of my view, her hands and feet, smacking the tile floor as she hurried out of the kitchen on all fours. I didn't run after her, or even yell after her. I just stood there frozen in shock, wondering what the fuck had possessed her to do that. It took me a little longer than I'd like to admit to go back upstairs, but eventually I did. When I got to our bedroom,

Lynn was lying on her side, asleep, or at least pretending to be. I stood there for a while, watching her breathing to be sure she was really asleep. I had the feeling she might jump out at me the moment I got into bed, but she didn't. I climbed into bed, and she didn't even move. Her breathing was soft and deep,

and I was starting to wonder if I dreamt the whole thing. The next morning, I waited for her to come down for coffee, and after handing her a mug and kissing her cheek, I decided to ask her about it. What was that about last night? I asked. keeping my tone light so I didn't offend or embarrass her. She frowned over her cup of coffee, shaking her head like she had no clue what I was referring to.

You were peeking at me again, from over there, I said, pointing to the spot on the floor by the kitchen island. She followed my gaze, and when she looked back at me, she burst out laughing. She laughed so hard that I couldn't help but join her. You creep me the fuck out sometimes, you know that? I said. She giggled and set her cup on the counter and wrapped her arms around my neck. You creep me out all the time, so I guess we're even, she teased. We set our goodbyes and left for work. As I drove, I kept thinking about how creepy it had been, seeing her grinning at me from behind the island like that. The sounds her hands made on the floor as she crawled away. I told myself she was just trying to be silly, just trying to join.

me and my love of all things horror. It's not like I was afraid of her, but it still didn't sit right with me. I started seeing her peeking at me more and more. Sometimes she'd be peeking out from behind the couch or living room curtains. Once she even managed to get inside her grandmother's old trunk that sits at the foot of our bed. I might not have even known she was there at all had the trunk's old hinges not given her away. She had the lid propped up just enough so that only half of her face peaked through. She'd been grinning like an excited toddler. It was unnerving. I didn't even know what to say to her. All I could do was stare. When I finally found my voice, I asked her why on earth was she doing this? She didn't answer,

but she had slowly closed the lid, shutting herself inside the trunk. I just walked away, feeling disturbed. I didn't understand why she was doing it, but it clearly made her happy. I just hoped she would get tired of the game quickly. Lynn didn't peek at me for the next two weeks. I started to think she was done with her weird prank and I was relieved. We were watching a show on Netflix one night and I jokingly said that I hadn't seen her peeking at me lately and that she must have given up on her spy game. She looked up at me with a smile and said, maybe I've just gotten better at it. I didn't say anything, but I wondered whether or not she was joking.

For the next few days, I couldn't stop thinking about what she said. Was she still peeking at me when I wasn't looking, and I just hadn't noticed? And if so, what the hell was she getting out of this? I started to feel paranoid, constantly checking whether she was watching from around the corner or behind a door. I was jumpy whenever I was home, and she wasn't in full view of me. I felt stupid and a little crazy. But after a few weeks without another incident, I began to relax. I stopped checking behind furniture and walls and told myself it was just a bad memory.

Then a few days ago, things got so much worse. Lynn left to go to a friend's, and I lounged on the couch and played a couple games on my laptop. Around 9 p.m., I hopped in the shower, and as I was washing my friends, the soap for my hair. I felt that awful feeling that I was being watched. I slowly opened my eyes and almost had a fucking heart attack. Lynn was peeking from behind the shower curtain. Her entire head stretched into the shower, leaving just her body outside. Her long dark hair hung against the curtain, the ends dripping with water. Her mouth hung open in a terrible grin, eyes wide and red, as if she hadn't blinked in a while. I screamed and jumped back against the

the wall. She didn't move, nor did her smile waver. Her makeup ran down her cheeks in two black streaks. She looked giddy and completely deranged. I was fucking terrified. We stood like that for a few moments, neither of us saying a word. Finally, after what felt like forever, she slowly pulled her head back out of the shower, and I watched her blurry figure through the curtain as she moved backwards towards the bathroom door. A second later the bathroom door slammed shut. Hard enough, to rattle the mirror. I screamed again and jumped out of the shower to lock the door. I stayed inside the bathroom for over an hour. Maybe I overreacted to some of you. But joke or not, I wasn't going to put up with the crazy shit anymore. That's what I kept telling myself as I

paced in my bathroom, stopping to listen at the door every few minutes. Suddenly I heard a muffled sound, and I pressed my ear against the bathroom door, straining to listen. I couldn't hear anything, but I envisioned Lynn standing on the other side of the door, giggling at her joke. I felt a surge of anger. I was beyond pissed at being made to feel scared in my own house and made to hide in the bathroom for an hour. All for what? Some joke? If it was a joke, it was an awful one.

What the fuck, Lynn? I snapped. This shit is getting really fucking annoying. I waited for her to apologize or to call me a jerk. But instead, I heard a faint moan. So quiet, I wondered if I heard it at all, and then complete silence. Lynn? I called out, not able to even hide the shakiness in my voice. I got no response, just my own heavy breathing.

I swear to God, just fucking stop it. I yelled, pounding my fist on the door. I waited for her to cuss me out. Something I would expect for me talking to her like that. I never screamed at her before. But there was nothing. Just the occasional drip from the showerhead. I won't deny that I was scared.

I was too afraid to open the damn door and face my own wife. I waited another 30 minutes or so, which feels like a fucking lifetime when you're scared. Finally, I decided I wasn't going to spend the night hiding in my bathroom. So I got down on my knees and peered under the door. I almost expected to see your face peeking back at me, but thankfully I didn't. I could see straight down the hallway to the top of the stairs, but no Lynn.

I didn't know if I should be happy about that or not. I looked for a few minutes, waiting to see her head pop up over the top step, but it never came. I stood up, my hand hovering over the door, and I mentally prepared myself to open it. I slowly turned the lock with shaky fingers and was about to yank it open when I heard a sound that still makes me feel nauseous when I think about it. A moan, louder than before, but this time I was able to tell just where it was coming from. I turned my head to the closet door in the bathroom

and locked eyes with my wife who was peeking out at me from the slight gap. Her eyes were still wide as ever, and her mouth was hanging open in the most grotesque gaping smile I'd ever seen. I didn't even scream. I was too scared for even that. Her hands were clasped to her chest, body trembling with sheer delight, as if she could barely contain her excitement. A short, raspy moan bubbled up from her throat, deep and raw, sending a shiver through my entire body.

Somehow I found the ability to pull the bathroom door open and ran as fast as I could all the way down the steps, snagging my keys and phone from the table in the living room before running outside to my car. I could hear her shrill laughter behind me, but I didn't hear her getting closer. I didn't bother shutting the front door. I drove away from the house faster than I legally should have, shivering the entire time, either from fear or the cold. Maybe a little of both. I hadn't grabbed a coat or even a pair of shoes.

I was still in my boxers, and my hair was still damp. I drove straight to my brother Chris's house about 40 minutes away, ignoring any and every call and text I got. I didn't check my phone until I was safely parked in my brother's driveway. Lynn had called four times and sent a flurry of texts, all wondering where I'd gone and why I left like that. I threw my phone at the dash in a rage, furious at her nonchalant attitude. My brother and his wife were surprised to see me, especially dressed in just a pair of boxers, but told me to stay as long as I needed.

Chris lent me some clothes and asked me what happened. I told him Lynn and I had a fight, but didn't get into the details. I didn't want him to think I was overreacting, leaving my wife over a prank, even if it was a strange one. I mean, hadn't I encouraged her for years to lighten up instead of being so serious all the time? I had wanted her to relax and loosen up, but this was definitely not what I'd had in mind. I tried to sleep on their sofa, but my brain wouldn't let me sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Lynn's face staring at me from inside the closet. Knowing she'd be in there with me the entire time made my skin crawl.

She'd never left the fucking bathroom at all. Instead, she slipped inside the closet and slammed the bathroom door shut to fool me. The mere thought of going back home gave me anxiety. I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Chris ended up giving me a sleeping pill so I was able to get a little rest. My sleep was filled with terrible dreams. All of Lynn's smiling. face. I woke up just as the sun started to rise. My sore body ached from the sofa, and I felt

drained. I knew I'd have to call Lynn at some point, but I didn't know what to say to her. I wouldn't be going home unless she gave me her word. She'd never do any more creepy shit. I just wanted my wife back. Her normal, serious self never looked so good to me. I was contemplating calling her and telling her that. When that familiar feeling came over me, I was being watched. I was staring at the ceiling. My heart was in my throat. I didn't want to look away, but the longer I ignored the feeling, the worse it got. My eyes drifted away from the ceiling, almost on their own. Her face was pressed up against the window beside the couch, staring down at me with the same gaping smile. Drule, dribbled down her lips, leaving two long streaks down the

glass. I didn't know how long she'd been there, but something told me she'd been there quite a while, possibly all night. I didn't bother screaming, though. I was afraid anger trumped any fear I felt at that moment. I jumped up from the couch and pounded my palm against the glass. Lynn, are you crazy? What the hell is wrong with you? Just go home, I shouted. Now! She didn't move, and her ghastly expression never changed. If anything, her smile only grew, as if she had never been more elated. I could hear Chris and his wife moving around upstairs. As if Lynn could hear them from her place outside, her head twitched slightly in their direction, and she began to close her mouth slowly. Chris called my name from upstairs, obviously

concerned. I turned to see him and his wife Rebecca hurrying down the steps. When I turned back to the window, Lynn was gone. The only sign she'd been there at all. was the two streaks of drool still dripping down the glass. I tried explaining to Chris and Rebecca about waking up to see Lynn watching me through their window. They were skeptical. Who wouldn't be? Chris and I went outside to the spot in front of the window, but there were no footprints in the dirt, just a slight indent.

An animal probably, Chris guessed, and I didn't argue. He and Rebecca assumed I dreamt the entire episode, but they didn't understand. and I was too tired to explain it to them. I called out of work that day and turned my cell off. I didn't want to face Lynn. Just talking to her was too much for me at that point. I really started to believe something was irreversibly wrong with her, that no matter what promises she made, we'd never be the same again.

The thought saddened me to my core. I cried most of the morning. By noon I figured I was ready to confront her. give her one last chance to explain herself. I could at least give her that after six years I told myself. I turned my phone on and saw the dozens of texts she'd sent, all from a seemingly concerned wife. Can we talk? I love you.

Please call me. I'm really worried. Can you answer? Just come home. And more of the same. All texts telling me she loved me and she wanted me home. How worried you? she was. Not a damn one addressing the crazy shit she pulled. Like she hadn't been acting like a character from a Stephen King book. Even her texts were different. She normally texted novels just to tell me to pick up a loaf of bread. You'd think she'd have more to say to me after her

bizarre shenanigans. I know it probably seems childish to some of you who are miles away from this situation. But if you saw the way Lynn had looked at me, how she scampered away on all fours like some wild animal, grinning at me from inside the closet, like a lunatic. Then I think you'd find my reaction was warranted. I ended up staying with Chris and Rebecca for another night. I didn't wake up yesterday until afternoon, and thankfully, I didn't see Lynn's face watching me through the window. I don't want to pry because it's not my place.

But is this fight something that can be mended? Rebecca asked. She made us both a sandwich for lunch. And I knew she wanted to breach the subject without seeming to be nosy. I don't know. I just... She's like a different person, I said, choosing my words carefully. I still wasn't ready for her or Chris to know the full extent of the bat-shit craziness I had been dealing with. People change, Ben.

But she's still the same woman you married. Maybe you both just need to talk through your issues. Whatever's going on, I'm sure it can be fair. fixed, she said, ever the peacemaker. I think it's beyond that now. I don't think talking would help. I just don't trust her, I said. The words stung in my heart. I missed and loved my wife. But how could I live with someone like that? Living in constant fear didn't sound too appealing. Lynn loves you. She has to be absolutely crushed, she said. I don't know about that, I said. Well, she certainly seemed like it to me.

I've never seen her so upset. Very much unlike the Lynn I know, Rebecca said, shaking her head sadly. It took a full minute for her words to really sink in and then when they did, I felt dread warming its way through my skin. Wait, what do you mean? You saw her? You saw Lynn? I asked. My mouth suddenly dry.

Rebecca nodded casually as if that fact wasn't nightmare fuel. Maybe for her it wasn't. She stopped by this morning just after Chris left for work, she said, cleaning the plates from the table. I didn't see her car, though. Maybe she took an Uber or something. Beck, what did she say? Did she come inside?

I asked. Sweat's starting to break out on my forehead. I began looking around, examining corners as though a predator lurk. behind them. No. She just asked if you were awake yet, and I said that you weren't. I asked if she wanted me to wake you, but she said no. She just said to let you sleep. That's all? She didn't say anything else, I asked. No. She looked awful, though, but she hadn't slept in days. I think you should call her. I got up from the table and thanked Rebecca for lunch. I felt a little better at the knowledge that at least she hadn't come inside. Still, I needed to double check that the

doors were locked. I sat for a while trying to figure out what to do next. I didn't want to go home, but I felt that I owed it to Lynn to help her if I could. Hadn't I swore an oath to love and honor her through sickness and in health? Clearly she was very sick. If she was sick, which I truly believed she was. I had to try and get her the help she needed. But I didn't even know where to start. I didn't want to call the police. And besides, what the hell was I going to tell them? That my wife was peeking at me? That she was being creepy? As bizarre as she'd been, she still hadn't committed any crime. Not yet anyway. The police would have probably said that I was overreacting. But this wasn't to some prank.

It felt wrong, dangerous even, like something sinister lurked beneath her smile. I knew as her husband I was well within my rights to have her committed, but what if she simply acted normal in their presence? She'd obviously been able to fool Rebecca into thinking she was just a concerned wife. As long as the doctors didn't find her a danger to herself or others, they'd have no choice but to release her after 72 hours. I felt lost and overwhelmed. So I did what any husband in my position would do.

I called her mother. I didn't want to, believe me. Her mother, Marianne and I were never on the best of terms. We never fought her anything like that. She just wasn't a very warm person, and wasn't really easy to get along with. She hardly ever smiled, and when she did, only her lips would move into a thin-lipped smile,

leaving her eyes as blank as ever. She gave off this aura that felt like she was permanently on the offensive. I'd only met her twice, and both times were such short visits. I got the impression she didn't approve of me for her daughter. Lynn always ushered ushered us out quickly, as she didn't want me to feel uncomfortable, which I was grateful for. Being in her mother's company felt almost unbearable, like walking on glass. I was glad when we moved three states away, so we didn't have to be.

have to see her often. I was happy to avoid the woman, but I needed her help. I really didn't want to talk to her at all, but I had to talk to someone and someone who knew Lynn better than I did. So I grit my teeth and did what I had to. Yes? She answered, already sounding irritated. Marianne, it's me, Ben. Do you have a minute to talk? I asked. I could hear her cluck her tongue an irritation. I'm in the middle of writing some checks, but if you insist, I suppose I can spare a moment. What is it that you want to discuss, Benjamin? She said coldly. It's about Lynn. She's been acting strangely. And I was wondering if you had any idea whether there was something. I was quickly interrupted. It's a bit difficult to follow your rambling, Benjamin. What is it that you

want for me? She asked. I could almost see her standing there in her thin sweater and slacks, tapping her fingernails impatiently on the table. I wanted to know if you ever noticed any odd behavior, or possibly any mental health issues, I asked. There was a long, uncomfortable pause that I couldn't tell was because she was just thinking or something else. Finally, after a few seconds, she spoke. I'm not sure if this is one of your jokes, Benjamin, but if so, I don't find the humor in it. Now, I do have business to attend to, as I've said. So if you don't mind, she said, but I cut her off before she could get rid of me. Marianne, it's not a joke. I'm sincerely concerned about Lynn's mental health. Her behavior has been

very erratic lately. I'm very worried about her, and I figured as her mother, you would be as well, I said, my frustration evident in my voice. If you're truly concerned, then I suggest you get the health professionals involved. I don't know what you expect of me, she snapped. I could tell she was seconds away from hanging up. And for some reason, I was desperate not to let her. I had the feeling that she knew a lot more than she was letting on. Lazzangue sur-gillet, puissance-molyne, for 15 minutes. We're saying that it's the hour dojo. Pre-a-joo! Vive the pleasure with Leo Jo! The casino-in-line that proposes the more recent machine-ass-soo and the game of casino in direct. Profite to 50 tours gratis on Big Bas-Bas Bonanza,

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I tried. I heard a faint, shaky intake of breath, as if she were trying to hold her steely persona together but failing. Mary Ann,

what's wrong? I started. Benjamin, my only advice would be to seek professional help. Do not call here again. Goodbye. I tried to call out to her.

but she'd hung up. I tried to wrap my head around the call and her refusal to help me. Even if she didn't like me, why wouldn't she want to help her own daughter? I couldn't understand that. I tried to replay the conversation, desperate to find something I missed.

After a while, I almost gave up until I remembered her last words to me. Seek professional help. She said those words with a bit of urgency. I could have just been grasped, at straws, but no. I was sure her voice had changed ever so slightly when she said that, as if they were very important. What had she meant? I assumed she'd been referring to medical professionals, but maybe she was referring to someone else. Someone that she didn't, for some reason,

feel comfortable saying directly. Or maybe I was just desperate. I waited for Chris to get home, and after a very long and exhausting conversation with him and Rebecca, I convinced them that Lynn truly needed psychiatric help. I didn't tell them everything. I wasn't prepared to go into it yet, but I told them about our last encounter, how she hid in the bathroom, peaking at me from the closet. They were obviously shocked, but thankfully they believed me.

They too just wanted to help her. Still, they didn't think it was all that serious. Weird, maybe, but not dangerous. They just kept saying that Lynn had to be playing some kind of weird joke. Maybe for YouTube? Rebecca offered, if only half-heartedly. Chris didn't think we should involve the police just yet. He offered instead to go with me, and I readily accepted.

He reasoned that calmly talking to her, trying to coax her into going willingly was the best recourse. I agreed to do it his way. At least I wouldn't be going into that house alone. We drove over this morning, just after breakfast. There was no way I was going at night. When we pulled into the driveway, my stomach began doing somersaults. Her car wasn't there, but I still didn't let my guard down.

The front door was ajar, and for a split second, I thought we'd see her eye staring through the gap. I was shaking and starting to sweat. Chris, however, was fine. He waited for me to open the door, his hands in his pockets like he was going on a fucking stroll through the park. I envied his ignorance. I pushed the door open and was immediately hit with the stench of rot.

Chris smelled it too, and he walked in the house behind me with his nose scrunched up. What do you guys use to clean the floors around here? Shit. Chris mumbled. Shut up, I said. My eyes darting around for any signs of land. The house was deadly quiet and dark, despite being 10 in the morning. All the curtains were closed up tight, refusing to allow any sunlight inside.

If I hadn't left it just two days prior, I'd have thought the house to be abandoned. We moved through each room, carefully checking any place that she might hide, occasionally calling her name. Why the fuck are you looking under the couch? Chris asked eventually. Aren't we looking for your wife? He was looking at me like I was a woman. a moron. Let's just go upstairs, I whispered. He shook his head, but followed me up the stairs

to check the bathroom and spare bedroom. On the way up, my shoes crunched over pieces of glass that looked to be littered over a few of the steps. I noticed that one of Lynn and my wedding portraits that hung on the wall along the staircase had been smashed. The frame hung crookedly, all the glass removed. I stared at the picture, a lump forming in my throat. We had taken the photo just after leaving the church, after saying our vows. She looked so beautiful in her white gown. I looked at Lynn's beautiful face. I never dreamed her face would ever be a source of terror for me.

We climbed the rest of the steps and checked the spare bedroom, but it looked completely untouched. I was hesitant to go into the bathroom, my fear from that night coming back to me all at once. Chris noticed and offered to go in by himself, but I couldn't let him do that. So we walked in together, checking the closet and the shower. The bathroom looked as if it hadn't been touched since the night I left. I don't think she's been here, Ben. Why don't you pack some clothes and we'll try coming back tomorrow or something, Chris said. I nodded and went into our bedroom and shoved some clothes into a duffel bag.

When I checked inside her closet, I came across. the source of the smell and gagged. Chris took one look and lost all color in his face. He had to go stand by the stairs to get away from the sight and smell. I gazed down in shock at what lay inside my bedroom closet, soaking into the rug, were at least a dozen eyeballs, all carefully laid out in pairs. Some were as large as a quarter, while others were as tiny as a marble. I stared down at the eyes she'd collected from small animals, and I wonder how she'd gotten them, and shuddered at the thought. Man, I thought I had it bad with Becca's shoe addiction.

But fuck me. Your wife's in here collecting eyeballs. Chris said, gagging. Ben, I think we should go. Called from the hall. I'm getting nauseous. All right. I grabbed my duffel bag and shut the closet door on my new nightmare.

I stepped out into the hall and took a deep breath of air. I could taste the rot on my tongue, and I couldn't help but gag. Who the fuck lines of eyeballs in their clothes? closet like that, Chris mumbled. I tried to tell you she needed help, he said. She doesn't need help, Ben. She needs a fucking exorcist, he said. You coming or what?

I can't stand the smell any. His words died in his throat, and his eyes grew wide with fear. I didn't ask him why. I could feel it. Someone was watching me, and I didn't think it was the eyes in the closet. I turned around, my eyes slowly scanning the bedroom. Christ, I whispered. as I finally saw what we'd missed. Under the bed, curled on her side, watching us with the excitement

of a kid on Christmas morning was my wife. She held her hands together just under her chin, and they were shaking eagerly. Now that she knew she'd been found, I could hear the quiet noises she was making, a sort of hiccuping sound in her throat, as if the excitement was just too much for her. It was unnerving to say the least, wide eyes and that same huge smile. Everything in me He told me to run, but I forced it away. This was my wife, no matter how twisted. She was still the woman I married. I had to help her.

Lynn, I said softly. She didn't respond, but her head bobbed back and forth in two quick little movements, as if she were nodding. Baby, I just want to help, okay? Can you, can you let me do that? I asked. I had taken a single step forward, approaching her like some kind of dangerous animal. I love you, Lynn, I said softly, taking another step closer.

She let a tiny moan escape her wide open mouth, and I had to resist the urge to run. Her shoulders were starting to quiver, and her eyes grew as large as saucers. I crouched down so I could see her better, and immediately saw the blood. Her hands were covered in it. They trembled more the closer I got, as if she were barely able to contain herself. Lynn, are you hurt? You're bleeding, I said. She bobbed her head again,

her bloody fingers moving up and down as if playing an invisible piano. They occasionally grazed her chin, leaving smears of blood on her skin. I wanted to recoil in disgust. The smell that was coming off of her was revolting. I could feel the vomit trying to climb up my throat. Her lips were dry and stretched thin,

blood seeping between the cracks. I knew she wouldn't come out on her own. But I didn't want to leave her in the state she was in. I scooted closer and reached out to her. The excited hiccoping sounds got louder and her hand shook, fingers flexing. It was then that I could see the blood oozing from in between her fingers. Oh my God, Lynn, you're bleeding, I said. Instinctively, I reached out to take her hand.

But before I could even touch her, her hand sprang out towards me. A sharp pain shot through my arm, and I fell back on my ass. My arm burned, and I could see the blood dripping down onto the carpet. I looked back at her in shock and saw her grinning madly, her fingers clutching a large shard of glass. You all right in there? Chris asked from behind me. I turned my head slightly and nodded to him,

cradling my arm to my chest. When I turned back to face Lynn, I saw that her focus had shifted. She wasn't looking at me anymore, and she wasn't smiling anymore either. She was staring past me. Her eyes, glaring at Chris the way a hungry lion might stare at an antelope. Her mouth was still hanging open, but it was twisted into a snarl. I got to my feet and began walking backwards down the hall, afraid to take my eyes off her. Are you bleeding?

Chris asked. The moment the words left his mouth, Lynn started scooting out from under the bed, the glass shard still in her fist. Chris, run, go! I yelled. He must have been too afraid to move, because a second layer of the last. I felt my back bump into him. He was still standing at the top of the stairs,

staring at the horror that was my wife. Lynn had crawled completely out from under the bed and stood in the bedroom doorway. Her face twisted in rage. Her whole body was visibly tense. Blood ran down her fingers and onto the floor. Jesus, Lynn, Chris said. You, uh, playing hide and seek?

I reached back and pushed him towards the steps. Move your ass, Chris. I said as quietly but firmly as I could. Lynn bobbed her head in fast, sharp motions, and began to grin, stretching her mouth open wider and wider so that her chin seemed to touch her chest. I heard Chris mutter a prayer, and then he was running down the stairs. I stood at the top of the steps, stuck between the love for a woman who clearly needed serious help, and self-preservation.

I only want to help, I said, choking back tears. Her eyes focused on me once again as she slowly lifted the glass, holding it out in front of her. And then she started sprinting towards me, grinning with utter excitement. Thankfully, my body took over and I flew down the stairs, skipping two or three at a time. I made it to the front door before I felt her leap onto my back, wrapping her arms around my neck, her open mouth next to my ear, so that I could hear those terrible hiccuping sounds up close.

I shook her off me, knocking her to the floor. I felt a searing pain in my back as she went, but I tore open the front door and bolted to my car. Chris was standing in the front yard, talking on the phone with the police. I didn't say a word. I just ran to my car and jumped in. Chris took the hint and followed me, still on the line with 911. I watched the rearview mirror.

Sure I'd see her there running after us, but I never did. I went straight to the ER and got 11 stitches in my arm and three on my back. The police asked a lot of questions and went back to the house to do a search, but of course, Lynn wasn't there. They advised me to stay with a friend or relative for a while, and to file a restraining order as soon as I could. But none of those things would matter. Somehow I just knew. I dropped Chris off at home and went to a motel an hour away. I wanted to put as much distance between me and Lynn as I could.

This is where I've been for the last four hours. I thought maybe the police would find her. Maybe they'd get her the help she desperately needs. But now I don't think so Because 40 minutes ago I got a text from an unknown number Just three words I found you

And a picture attached The picture was dark and grainy But I instantly knew what it was There was no mistaking my wife's eyes I started typing this out immediately after I don't know what to do I'm alone and scared And I can't help but feel that I'm being watched

I'm