Snook - Deranged Reddit Stories

Episode Date: June 28, 2026

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Hey, what's up guys? Welcome back to another Reddit stories video. And today I'm going to be getting into some deranged Reddit stories. And these stories in this video are great. And I'm sure you guys will love them too. Thank you so much for something. I appreciate every single one of you that watches these videos. Comment down below if you want to see more Reddit stories in the future or maybe something a little bit different.

But I'd like to hear your feedback. And please like the video and subscribe to the channel. It's a channel's goal to be at 500,000 subscribers. And we're closing in kind of. So please subscribe. And yeah, thanks for stopping by. And without further ado, let's get into some deranged Reddit stories. I let my cheating boyfriend drown.

I, female 24, let my cheating boyfriend who's M28 drown. My boyfriend, Chris and I have been together for a few months now. That is until we broke up. You see, Chris is a cheater. Sometime into our relationship, I found him in bed with another woman. The worst thing about that situation was that, the woman was my best friend, Samantha, that cold-hearted bitch. My friend and I did everything together.

We grew up together, worked the same jobs together, and we even attended the same college together. She was the sister I never had. She had my complete trust, which made the betrayal that much worse. Two years after graduation, Samantha and I went out for a night out in the town. That night, two guys approached us, as many tend to do, but these two, my God, these two knew exactly what they were doing. Samantha and I were sitting at the bar trying to put on our best resting bitch faces. The night was long and you can only turn down so many guys before it gets old.

We were just there to enjoy ourselves, to dance, to drink, but those plans were quickly thwarted when a few bumbling, bickering buffoons pulled out the stools next to us and plopped right down, one on either side of us. They sandwiched Samantha and me between two stinking pillars of testosterone, grown, and we braced for whatever corny and rehearsed pickup line, these two were about to coordinate. But the pickup line never came. Instead, they ignored us, preferring to shout their conversation over the music, leaving Samantha and me to spectate their shallow interaction. Did you see that beautiful blonde with those icy blue eyes? Good Lord, she was spectacular. A hundred and ten percent

pure unadulterated wify material right there. We rolled our eyes at his comment before Samantha. and I locked eyes in disapproval. The other guy responded in a sweet baritone voice that pierced the booming vibration of the dance music. Our eyes turning in his direction. Sir, I believe you are mistaken. No matter how soul piercing her eyes are or how blonde her hair is, you need a girl with an actual brain. Samantha scoffed, fiddling with her golden locks, added the stinging comment. Not saying that blondes are dim-witted, but Ellen certainly wasn't the brightest of the bunch.

The man sitting on my right side continued. The douche bag on Samantha's left, adjusted his hat, turning his tongue towards the rear. His face was now sour. He looked eyes with his friend, will seeming heavily offenced. I surmised that Elaine must have been an X or something. For a few seconds, the two jousted quietly. Samantha and I slightly cowering amidst the tension, until the two erupted into a simultaneous chuckle. I don't care what you or anyone says about blondes.

The stereotypes may be partially true, but they truly do have the most fun. The hat touting, D-bag responded. Samantha stood a little taller in her chair in Vindiction. If you say so, said the guy on my right. But honestly, I've always been more attracted to the brunettes with high cheekbones and fantastic smiles. My chair vibrated at the base in his voice. Do you see anyone like that in here tonight? Question the D-bag?

Well, yes, I did see one earlier on the dance floor. As a matter of fact, I think she's. she was the blonde you were talking about. By then the realization that they were talking about Samantha and I was sitting in. I turned to look at Samantha, but she had still not made the connection. Maybe the stereotypes are true, I thought to myself, rolling my eyes at Samantha's slow processing speed. Just beyond the gears turning to my friend's head was the D-bag smiling from ear to ear. He'd noticed that I had caught on. Looking over my shoulder, the handsome baritone mirrored his friend's expression. Meanwhile, you could smell the smoke coming from Samantha's ears.

The D-Bag spun around on the spool, spectating the dance floor. Well, Chris, do you think anyone here could prove us wrong? If only two girls matching those descriptions were here to show just how fun blondes and brunettes could be, the D-Bag stiated in an ironic tone, all three of us now waited for Samantha to finish her thought. We all peered around at each other with high expectations. Oh! Us, Samantha announced with a snorting laugh, her open palm meeting the side of the D-Beg's arm, just as mine slapped my forehead.

Peering out from behind my hand, the sweet baritone eyed me lovingly, showing me his perfect dimpled smile. I tried to return the sentiment, but my face reddened at how intently he watched me. He finally extended my saving grace an outstretched hand in a gentlemanly fashion. As our touch met, he introduced himself. Hi, I'm Chris. Naomi, I said with a smile. Pleasure. In that instance, my heart skipped a beat, love at first sight was never my thing, but the way

this man carried himself made me want to kick my feet and squeal and excitement. His hair, his eyes, the veins bulging from under his rolled up sleeves. If I wanted to resist it, it was hopeless. Samantha in the D-bag wasted no time and sprung onto the dance floor, leaving Chris and I to talk at the bar. What are you drinking? he asked me. My mind was blank. I tend to get awkward around Greek gods.

He smiled. Barkeep Two Medellos The night turned into early morning Samantha and the D-bag Whose name I found out was Josh Never really left the dance floor Samantha was a high-energy drunk

It was hard for anyone to keep up with her Josh, however, seemed to have no problems in doing so Chris and I, on the other hand, still nursed our first beer It's kind of hard to drink when Conversations are so stimulating Chris was a PA Physician's assistant Specializing in pediatric care

He just moved to Lincoln City after accepting a job at the local clinic. Josh was his roommate from college who was not as adept as Chris but decided to tag along for the adventure. A well-educated, mild-mannered Adonis stood before me as the best potential suitor of my life, one who adorned children and wanted to settle down in my sleepy little coastal town. To say I was smitten was an understatement. Naomi, let's go. Samantha called after the first. front door at the bar whilst clinging to Josh's arm. Looks like these two really hit it off,

Chris said to me. We're going home and inebriated Samantha's wind. Jake's face flushed as heavy liquor, incoxication. Well, we can't let those two go home alone, can we? Chris said. We stood up from her stools walking over to meet our friends. As we walked out of the bar, Samantha stumbled over her own feet. Jake was too drunk to catch her. Left it up to me to arrest her fall. I clutched her arm, to pop her up. Chris being the gentleman he was, Lentay help in hand. Josh now off-spectating the cars driving by in the early morning air, waving at each other, like the village idiot. Chris's face contorted in his disapproval and then looked over at Samantha and me. Come on, I'll, uh, I'll walk you guys home. But in Samantha's arm over his neck, he waited for me to lead the way. We started down the

street, me leading just inches in front of the group. Josh was trailing behind us like a newborn duckling. The whole walk home Chris and I talked about life are hopes and dreams, how many children we each wanted, and even when we expected to settle down. I know. Pretty heavy stuff to talk about when you just met someone, but I'm a hopeless romantic. What can I say? Occasionally turning to see Chris's face as we walked, I could have sworn I saw him glanced down at Samantha's cleavage, but blocked it out as my gaze met his perfect smile. Love makes you such a fool. Walking into my front door, Chris, Samantha, and Josh stammered him behind me. Just to set her down on the couch here, I instructed.

Chris obliged, gently leading Samantha onto the couch where she drunkenly caressed the side of Chris's cheek. You're so beautiful, you know that. Chris smiled nervously at her sudden confession of attraction. I decided he needed help taking Samantha's arm off of his cheek. Okay, okay, okay, lover girl, you need a rest, guiding her head down onto the couch cushion, lifting her legs on the sectional,

while ensuring a few pillows wedged her on her side for the night. I turned to look at Chris as he rested his hand on his hips while looking at Josh. Josh was on the other end of the sectional. Snoring as a stream of slobber trailed down his cheek. He turned to me. Looks like he's not going anywhere for the night. He hopped frustratingly, itching the back of his head in embarrassment. It's totally okay, I comforted.

You guys can stay here for the night. I really don't mind. Chris smiled and looked down at our two sleepy companions. He then turns to the clock on his watch. and back up to me. You, uh, you think these two will be okay on their own? I looked down at Samantha as she rested somberly. I think so.

Why do you ask? You want to go watch the sunrise on the beach? I ignored the fact that we live on the west coast. The sun would be rising at our backs, but I'm sure he knew that. This was just an excuse to spend some more time with me. I happily agreed. The sand between my toes and a smile plastered across my face, Chris and I spectated a tsunami buoy from sure.

shore as its red spotter light flickered and bobbed in the rough organ seas. Its faint glow illuminated the seafoam as it swashed against its yellow metal exterior, a family of seagulls taking refuge on its many perches for the night. The night was cold as the darkness in the Pacific Northwest tends to be. I rested my head on Chris's shoulder, our backside resting against his fallen sweater. We had reached the portion of the night where there was no need for conversation when two kindred souls could speak poems through a loving embrace. I reached down to interweave our fingers, turning my face towards his stabbled facade. He smiled as his peripheral gaze dissected my doe-eyed lust-filled expression. He slowly swiveled his head. Our eyes met.

His face, inched closer to mind, my breathing is now more of a nervous pant, is seemingly matching my cadence. Our lips met in a frenzy of sparks. For a minute the world didn't exist. There was no ocean, stars, or coldness of night, just the warmth of his embrace, the perfect first kiss, the perfect moment, that is, until the sound of a dying animal screeched through the night. Our head snapped in the direction of the tsunami buoy. The family of seagulls had taken flight. Now only a swath of plumed feathers floated gently onto the yellow buoy in atop of the foamy sea. Struggling on the tsunami buoy was the body of one of the birds. seemingly cut in half.

What the hell was that? Chris questioned. A wave of frustration washed over me as some freak national geographic style scene had just interrupted my perfect moment. I looked at Chris's stunned expression. He's never lived by the sea, a newcomer to marine life. His bewilderment made me smile.

It was probably just a sea lion, I explained. He looked down at me with mild horror. I shrugged. Nature, uh, What can I say? I returned my head to a shoulder trying to hide my anger at nature's bad timing. As the early morning sun illuminated the crashing waves and hues of yellow, oranges and red, we finally took to our feet.

As we directed ourselves inland, I was halted by a faint whisper that hissed between the swashing of the seas. I stopped and turned back out to the sea. What is it? Chris questioned. You didn't hear that? I responded. Hear what? Just then the whisper once again rode its way on the early morning sea bridge. Ron.

It commanded in a ghostly tone. You didn't hear that, I restated. Chris looked at me in confusion. As I stared back at him. Not wanting to seem crazy, I returned with a dismal of my previous comment. It's nothing. Chris Miles took my hand and led me further inland. Before the shore sand could leave my few, I heard the sound one more.

more time. This time, as clear as the morning sunlight. Run. The sea was threatening me, or so I thought. Months had passed, and since that night, my love for Chris only grew. Nothing could prevent me from loving him more every day. He was the perfect man in my eyes. He would bring me flowers when I was sad. He would hold me when I was lonely. And he looked at me with as much love-filled ferocity as I did him. I was sure he was my end game. Samantha and Josh, on the other hand, only seemed to like each other under the influence of alcohol. The next morning after that first night we all met, Samantha and Josh somehow found their way into each other's arms.

In the clear morning light, and without the love potion, that is liquor. Samantha's face retorted at the thought that Josh and her might have slept together. She kicked Josh out like some flusy, a drunken mistake. I later explained to her that they did not sleep together to her relief, that, however, did not improve Josh's standing in her eyes. From that day on, Samantha couldn't stand the side of Josh. Maybe it was out of embarrassment for how she kicked him out, or it could have just been out of Samantha's fear of commitment.

Samantha's always been a one-and-done kind of gal. I always thought it was because she had a hard personality to love, but Josh seemed to mirror that personality. I thought they would have been great together, but alas, Samantha is her own woman, and I can't make her decision for her. From then on, Josh was banned from her household, leaving Samantha as our permanent third wheel. It was no biggie, though.

Samantha was like a sister to me, and she always was welcome to hang out with Chris and I. It was not the first time Samantha had been my third wheel. Growing up, I had many boyfriends, and as they came and went, she was there for each other of them. A not-so-solent witness to my love fiascos. I remember one time with my first boyfriend at the young age 18, my then-boyfriend Robert and I were watching a movie at my house. My parents had left town for the weekend, and I was left to my own devices, nestled under my cozy couch, blanket, Robert and I started to get a little bit handsy. His hands were on my hips as my tongue

slowly part of my lips. Our steamy makeout session was quickly thwarted when Samantha plopped down on the outside of the blanket, waging herself right between Robert and me. To be honest, I completely forgot she was even there, but then again, she never left. We popped our heads over the top of the blanket, scowling at Samantha. Her response, sorry. Did I interrupt someone? I could tell that she knew exactly what she had done, that much was evident in her mischievous expression. I know I should have said something to her. I'm at fault for not nipping her behavior on the butt throughout the years. That inaction continued to haunt me throughout our friendship until it boiled over, reaching a point of no return. Chris was always over at our house. He was my

boyfriend after all. That means that Chris and Samantha were always in close proximity. I started to notice that when Chris was over Samantha would always conveniently lose her bra and put on the thinnest white house shirt she could find. She was well-endowed, these mostly see-through t-shirts, didn't hide a thing. That or she would always find the skimpiest little workout shorts in her wardrobe, the ones that ride high and never low. I would often see Chris struggling to not stare, and I don't blame him for that. Samantha's beautiful. I would even stare to her myself if she wasn't looking. When someone shoves them in your face, it's hard to not look away. Chris mostly found the willpower to avert his eyes, to my relief, but Samantha turned up the heat. I would catch her eyes fixated on him at the breakfast

table, her nose crinkled at the thoughts running through her head. She would tease us saying things like, so I heard you guys had a really good time last night. These walls are thinny now. Chris almost always choked on a cereal at her out-of-pocket comments. She would then quell his coffin fits with a hand placement that tended to linger just a bit too long. Chris fighting not to look over at her freed breasts. Samantha would give him a flirty smile when they pass each other in the halls, turning her gaze over her shoulder. to see if Chris followed her tail feathers. Chris remained steadfast for the most part,

but I felt my confidence in him start to waver when I saw him start to glare too long at her from a distance. I tried to dismiss these occurrences as me being the jealous girlfriend. Samantha was my best friend, and she would never betray me. That confidence was quickly ripped away when I came home early from work one day. Walking into our beach house, the crashing of the far-off ways became increasingly muted as the door closed behind me. I should have been here alone. The house should have been as quiet as a mouse, but off in the distance I could hear a distinct smacking of lips engaging in a wet embrace.

I anged my way through the house and down the hall. I realized that the sound was coming from Samantha's room. I pressed my ear to the door and heard a sensual moan. Is she watching corn, I thought to myself? No, Samantha was not one for fantasies. She was more of a real action kind of girl. She must have met a guy and brought him over for a light morning brunch session. I smiled at her little achievement, pivoted in a way to give them a little privacy they needed. But just as I took my first step, I heard something that made my heart sink. Oh, Chris, the whore moaned out. My knees began to shake and tears started to well in my eyes.

I turned to face the door once again. I knew I had to face whatever was on the other side of this passageway, but I hesitated. I don't know why, but in that instance, I remember that faint whisper I heard on the beach all those months ago. run played over and over in my head believe me i wanted to but i could never forgive myself if i never confronted my suspicion clutching the door handle i inhaled deeply before swinging the door wide open there they were the sorry sack of shit positioned in between my loose-legged whore of a best friend they were so busy being wrapped up in each other that they didn't hear me burst in i screamed chris in that second he freed himself from her clutches tossing her off to the side and ran for his clothes that

decorated the floor. Samantha, on the other hand, seemed less panicked, opting to hide under the sheets. I swear, I saw a smug little look on her face. It angered me so much, but that would have to wait. My cheating boyfriend had yanked the waistband on his jeans, high above his navel, it was coming to comfort me. I hadn't even noticed my tears dripping onto the floor. He approached me, both hands spread wide, as if a hug would make things better. I pushed him away. Get away from me, I screamed, bending over to throw some clothes at him. Unannounced to me, I had thrown some Samantha's red, lazy thong at him. He swatted it away. Baby, he pleaded, inching in again to comfort me. I bawled my fist and decked him in the mouth. I don't know where I found the fury, but I knocked him on his

ass. His backside meets the floor with a thump. Get out. He eyed me like a beat dog. You too, you stupid bitch, I hissed Samantha. Her face finally contorted. Where am I supposed to go? I was engaged to realize that she didn't think there would be any consequences for her actions. Her entitlement made my blood boil. I don't care. I don't care if you sleep under a bridge. I don't care if you shack up with a homeless guy from down the block. I don't care if you walk your way into the sea and drown. Leave. Her lips puckered in self-pity. My name was on the lease, but what was she going to do? The two grabbed their stuff, and Samantha questioned me about the rest of her belongings. I'll mail them to you. Now get the fuck out. They stammered at the front door. I held the door open as they

stepped into the fresh mid-morning sea mist. Chris turned to ask another question, but I slammed the door in his face. I gripped two handfuls of my hair and let out a mountain of emotion in the scream. My eyelids squeezed tight as I wept. I wanted to burn the world down. I wanted to lay down and cry till I dried up like some beached jellyfish. I truly never hated life more than I did in that instance. Regaining my composure, my eyes cracked open slightly. Suddenly something caught my eye in the corner of the window. I swiveled and spat out in fury, thinking either Chris or Samantha, respected my brain. I respected my breakdown. Go away, I screamed. But just as my eyes met the figure on the other side of the glass, I jolted back in shock, falling onto the floor in a panic. In a quick second, I had caught the

image of some horrid, monstrous deformity. Its face was scaly, like that of a fish. Its eyes fanned out in a strange web-like fashion. The thought I saw a mouth full of jagged, sharpened teeth. from its forehead had a singular long antenna with a little ball on the end. Its finger was gliding on the other side of the window, writing something in the condensation. The impact of the hard floor on my backside made me lose connection with whatever was lingering outside my house. When my gaze returned, the monster was gone. On the window, the message it had written out. I told you to run.

Goose pimples engulfed my skin. I sat there for a while to see if the thing would peer out again. A few minutes passed, but it never was. showed. I took to my feet cautiously approaching the window, half expecting the monster to pop out, but as I looked past the written message, nothing jumped out. Instead, I saw Chris off in the distance on the sandy beach, comforting and emotional Samantha. Rage once again made an appearance. I shut the blinds angrily and stormed off into the dimly lit house. The vision of the monster dismissed as a product of high stress. The coming weeks were, as you would expect, I was a heartbroken fool, spending my

day he's going to work with a cloudy overcast always present, coming home to a messy unkempt house, and crying myself to sleep at the memories of both Chris and Samantha. Losing one love was too much, but my best friend too, it hurt way too much. Chris would blow up my phone trying to salvage this situation, but the messages went unanswered. I should have blocked him, but I found strange comfort in the pain of seeing his name pop up on my phone's notification Banner. Samantha, on the other hand, had not even messaged me about her property that was left behind. She had always been a spiteful bitch. Soon, Chris's begging got to me. He would send me messages saying that he made the biggest mistake of his life, that he would do anything to fix this,

that he dreamed of marrying me and starting a family. It didn't help that. I also had these illusions of forever with him. After hundreds of unanswered texts, I finally responded. me at Ocean Lake Beach tomorrow at 11 a.m. I know I shouldn't have agreed to meet him. I'm all too familiar with the expression. Once a cheater, always a cheater, but I didn't know how else to make this pain stop. I was at the end of my rope. My heart was in a thousand pieces, and I thought if I could somehow rekindle the love I once had for Chris, this nightmarish hell would all go away. I was a dumb girl manipulated by pain and anger, but I felt like I had no other choice. Morning came, and I was. and I walked out to the beach near my house, the same beach where Chris and I had our first kiss.

I stood out looking at the same buoy that captivated our attention that first night. There was something about the rhythmic swashing of waves against its exterior that comforted me. Something so warm about the little bell that sounded with its rock, of the gulls that perched on its metal angle iron as they sang their mockeries to the sea. I could spend hours watching that thing bounce around. I felt a hand grace my shoulder, which startled me. In that exact second, the gulls on the buoy took flight, and a loud splash sounded on the other side metal object.

The sight of something large disappearing into the water, I swiveled around to see the hand belonged to Chris. I couldn't help but pounds on him, hugging him as I gently cried into his chest. He grasped the back of my head, letting me release my emotions. After a while, he grasped my face with two hands lifting my head. had to look at his. He planted a loving kiss on my forehead, and I knew that we would be okay, though there was still much we needed to discuss. We talked for hours, walking up and down the beach, erring out of differences. He explained how Samantha had forced herself on him, how she manipulated

him, how his willpower slowly broke. I listened intently, and for some reason it all made sense, as many things tend to do when he just want the pain to stop. Soon I'd quickly forgiven him for all that he'd done. I was just happy he'd come back to me. We decided to head back to my house, making one last turn on our many trips down the same beach. I clutched his arm like he was the godly figure I once believed them to be. He looked down at me with the same intensity as the first day I met him. I was so happy. As my house came into view, we saw a sunbathe, lying on the cold ground. Our beaches are not known as the most sunny or radiant, but it isn't uncommon to see sunbatheers soaking up the sun's rays in the summer. Today, however, was especially cold.

cold. The skies were gray and a cold front sent the chilly ocean breeze inland. I'd even pulled out my warmest summer sweater for this occasion. Chris and I looked at each other in confusion, but we didn't say a thing, continuing to walk towards the figure. The closer we got, the more strange the situation was. Now about 100 feet from the person in the sand, I could see it was a woman, naked and bare. 50 feet, she was a brunette with excellent facial structure. 10 feet, she was a brunette with excellent facial structure. Ten feet, I glared over at Chris who gulped at her exposed flesh. I was just about to erupt in anger at his action and at what we had just discussed. Chris shouted, She's not breathing. I snapped out of my jealousy and watched as the medical professional

pressed an ear on her exposed chest. He positioned her properly on her back, raised her chin upwards, planted his mouth on her lip blowing in a huff of air as her chest was forced to expand. I stood arms crossed, not knowing what to do. He kneeled erect, pushing down on her chest a few times before, returning to her face again and again, he battled to save her. She eventually spit out a lung full of seawater. She gasped and coughed, and the air finally filling her lungs. Chris turned to me.

Call 911, he said frantically. No, the naked girl shouted. No, 911, please, she begged. Chris looked at me, and back to the girl. We don't know how long he was of unconscious, or, How long your brain was without oxygen. You need to go to the ER, he explains. No 911, please.

The girl said, well, still coughing. Chris scratched his head in confusion. Pick her up. We can take her to my house for now, I said. Chris nodded in agreement, scooping the naked girl up, and we made her way to my house that overlooked the beach.

I opened the backsliding door, letting Chris and the girl in. He stammered and with her in a toe, letting her fall onto the couch. She's hypothermic. Go find her some blankets so she can get warm, Chris commanded. In the properly illuminated,

house, I could see how blue her lips actually were and how badly she was shivering. I ran to my bedroom and ripped the covers off my bed, rushing them out to them. I was met with the side of the naked girl and my boyfriend inches from each other's faces. The girl's face was no longer pale and blue, now a shade of rosy peach and red. I stood there watching for a good while as they gazed into each other's eyes. The girl's demeanor looked cynical. Chris's face, on the other hand, looked mesmerized in a strange, hypnotic limbo. caught the eye of the naked girl, and she slumped back onto the couch, regaining her icy complexion. The look of bewilderment melted off of Chris's face, taking a second to realize where he was.

He turned to me as I clasped the bedding. What are you waiting for? She could die. Hurry up. We need to get her warm. I rushed over to her, engulfing the girl cautiously with the sheets. Chris seemingly unaware of what I had just been seen, tucked the sheets underneath the girl's bare skin. I ran over the gas fireplace and flicked the switch on. The fire roared to life. The naked girl shivered, her eyes closed, losing consciousness. I looked at Chris as he noticed my face contorted and worry. I think she's just tired, he comforted.

The girl stirred, shifting her body over to Chris's warmth. Chris gave a dismissive shrug, almost as if saying, what can I do? She's freezing to death. And to be fair, it was a good point. The girl looked sickly on the verge of death. I couldn't blame him for reaching for the warmest things she could find. She so happened that that thing was my boyfriend. friend. The afternoon turned to night, and the girl slowly regained her color. She was exhausted,

only moving to reposition her head onto Chris's lap the whole time she was slid asleep. I questioned if we should get her medical attention, but I didn't want to overrule Chris's better judgment. After all, I wasn't a PA. The girl finally rose to a seated position rubbing her eyes. While glaring around the room, she locked eyes with Chris, giving him a flirty smile. Chris nervously turned to me for help. The girl followed his gaze and saw me sitting on the other side of the couch. Arms crossed unaware of what my next move should be. I bit my lip not in wanting to say something, who would scold their boyfriend for doing their job. The girl and I locked eyes. I wanted to be angry, but her deep, dark eyes reminded me of someone I had known, as if I had met this person before.

Our interaction must have seemed awkward to Chris because he felt compelled to break the tension. Hey, babe, do you think she could borrow some of your clothes? He was right. We couldn't just let her sit here exposed all night. I stood to my feet. The girl's eyes never leaving my face. As I disappeared into the bedroom, I heard Chris trying to get some answers out of the girl. What's your name? He questioned, but I never heard a reply. What happened to you? Great news. The federal EV rebate is back. Eligible customers get up to $5,000 with the federal EVAP rebate on select 2027-volt and 2026 Equinox EV models. Visit your local Chevrolet dealer today for more details. Still, nothing was said back. Can we call someone for you?

Rubberging through my closet, I found some pajama bottoms and a t-shirt the girl could wear. By then it sounded like Chris wasn't going to get an answer from this girl, but as I walked the clothes out to them, I was met with a sight of absolute horror. Her arms were wrapped around the back of Chris's neck, her lips seemingly suckling at my boyfriend's tongue, and her eyes peering at me from around my boyfriend's head. Chris, I yelled. The girl unclasped their faces, moving Chris's head aside to get a better look at me.

For a second, her face was expressionless, but then the edges of her mouth gave way to reveal several rows of sharpened teeth. I stood there in shock. The teeth slowly started to part, and I could see the inside of her slimy, cherry-red mouth playing with something, almost as if she was reading my mind. She decided to show me. She pushed the object to the front of her mouth, gripping it with her jagged teeth. It was a severed tongue.

Chris's severed tongue. I shrieked in horror. The terror of demented satisfaction plastered its way across the girl's face. She forced Chris's head to swivel around like a powerless mannequin. Choined me her handiwork, a stream of blood oozed down his chin, but his face was expressionless. The same hypnotized expression I had seen on his face earlier that day. I wanted to run away, but my legs were locked in place. I stood there as the girl took to all fours, hunching her back like an angry cat, and her

skin began to change. From the pale, beautiful skin that touted on the beach, she sprouted the skin. scales, from her danty little ears grew webbed fans. From the top of her forehead came an ugly misplaced antenna. She had transformed into the creature outside my window. It stood on a time legs taking an awkward step toward Chris's immobile body. I found the strength to plead for his life. Stop. I quivered with fragile bravery. But the creature took a second step, wobbling slightly, as if it were new to land. It bent over inches from my boyfriend's body. A long serpent-like tongue slid across the stream of blood coming.

from his mouth until its long protrusion found a home down Chris's throat. A bump was visible from the outside of his neck as the creature plunged it in deeper. Please stop it begged. The creature extracted its tongue from the depths of my boyfriend. Its hand sliding on the outside of his jeans, it reached his clod hands into the pocket pulling out his phone. It turned it on and held it up to Chris's hipton to his face, unlocking it with face ID. It stood up and carefully walked over to me. The creature placed it in my hand with an extreme amount of gentality. cautious not to frighten me. I didn't understand what it wanted for me

as it turned his attention back to Chris. Just then, the phone vibrated. I looked down at the new text message. My heart dropped at the person it was from. Samantha. Hey, baby, are you okay? I haven't heard from you all day. When are you coming home?

All the horrid feelings started flooding back to me. The images of my best friends straddling my boyfriend's hips, the smug little look on her face when I caught them, and the feeling of Chris's jaw on the other end of my knuckles. Then it dawned on me. The whole day Chris was baiting me into getting back with him while he was with my backstabbing best friend. I lowered the phone and over at the monster on the couch. While the creature sized him up, its bulb of the antenna started to glow in this bright,

fluorescent white, and for some reason, Chris was drawn to it. He took to his feet the reflection of the antenna twinkling in his eye. Then the creature took a backwards step toward my back door that overlooks the beach. A second step in Chris followed, never losing sight of the bright fluorescent light. I ran over to the side of the back door open, setting them free into the ocean breeze. I no longer cared what the creature wanted with Chris,

for all I knew, it wanted to eat him. If it did, I wouldn't have baddened an eye. This lion's sake should deserved it. They inched their way down my wooden porch steps, the creature's webbed feet made nasty sludgeon sounds with each embrace the deck. When they reached the sand, I was not far behind, I needed to see Chris's fate. The salty sea washed over Chris's ankles.

The creature still leading inches ahead. I spectated from the sand, as the two gradually made their way further into the sea. The waves crushed over Chris's head, only the creature's antenna was now visible, as that tomb at the water. It gave one last bright pulse before going out completely. The night was once again quiet, nothing stirred, nothing until the sea buoy's little bell caught my attention. I sat down on the beach watching a bounce on the ocean current like the first day I met Chris. I don't know how long I watched it, but it must have been hours. The sun was now cresting at my back. I was jolted back to reality when Chris's phone vibrated.

I looked down at the message. I'm really worried about you, Chris. Please call me. Samantha was stressing about her man. We couldn't have that. I took to the text keys. I'm okay, babe, I wrote, but my face lit up as I got a grand idea. Meet me at Ocean Lake Beach right now, I messaged.

Okay, I'll be there in a few. I laid the phone down on the sand, taking in a long inhale. As I looked back out at the buoy, a familiar pair of eyes stared back at me. The creature's face parted in a grin. I returned the sentiment. I just hope my new little friend here likes the taste of a traitorous bitch. I let my cheating boyfriend drown, part two. It's a strange feeling, sitting on the beach as,

Chris sits somewhere at the bottom of the sea. I loved Chris, but he just pushed his luck a little bit too far with me, going behind my back, sleeping with my best friend, and playing both of us for fools. And as I sit on the beach watching the waves crash over the shore, I couldn't help but feel a sense of vindiction knowing that the bastard would never do this to anyone else. No other girl will ever feel the sting of betrayal at the hands of that con man. No one else besides Samantha, my best friend who wrapped her legs around my loving boyfriend. Although I felt like there would be some sense of justice when Samantha found out Chris had drowned, it wouldn't be enough. I felt this extreme desire to watch her sink to the ocean floor. I needed her to die. I pictured her body

floating lifelessly amongst the waves, visions of her blood mixing with the sea salt filled my brain and a tingle of satisfaction coursed through my body. I had nothing to lose, nothing to live for anymore. my heart was ripped out and I felt this ravenous desire for bloodshed. A thirst I could only be quelled by Samantha's blood. I took Chris's phone and texted Samantha from his number. Me, me at Ocean Lake Beach, the text read, Samantha being the eager, loose-legged whore she was, responded, okay, see you there and a few. Samantha was going to get what was coming to her, and I was going to be the one who did do it.

I was hell-bent on making her pay, but as I waited her rival, a voice drifted in with the swashing of the water. I looked toward the horizon where the ghostly voice had been coming from, but the sea beyond the waves was calm. Something knocked against the side of the buoy, causing his metal siding to give a reverberating metal ping. The little bell that chimed from the top of the buoy's angle iron protested as it shifted violently in the water. I watched as the floating metal marker slowly regained its composure. When it did, all it was quiet, until a head rose from the water. Speckles of ocean droplets shun under the bright morning sun as the water dripped off its head. Beautiful brown eyes looked at me curiously as I caressed my knees against my chest.

The figure in the water inched a smile, jagged and monstrous. Any other same person would have run for the hills at the side of this pointy grin, webbed fingers, and that misplaced antenna that stuck out of its forehead. But for some reason, I knew this creature would never hurt me. It sharpened teeth signaled its evolutionary desire to rip, for bone, but I understood that desire. In my vengeful state, I related to its primal desire to kill. I returned the sentiment, giving the creature a reliable smile. This thing had warned me about Chris all those months ago, but I was too stupid to listen. Thankfully, my new friend here knew exactly

how to take out the trash. Looking at my beast's loving eyes, I felt this strange, unexplainable bond, as of this thing and I were linked somehow. I couldn't wait to see this thing pull Samantha under the waves, I imagined her struggling against the surface, gasping for air. Help me, Naomi, please, I don't want to die, Samantha would say. Meanwhile, I would stand unmoving on the shore, watching the light slip from her eyes. Water filling her lungs, as my demented daydream played through my head, the figure in the water lost its smile, almost giving a concerned look. For the first time, I felt this pang of judgment coming in my direction. What? I questioned quietly in my mind. As I did the creature gave me a twisted look. Its head slowly began retrieving into the water. I immediately

shot to my feet. Wait, where are you going? I shouted beyond the waves. The creature's mouth submerged under the water and its eyes disappeared beneath the foamy sea. The last thing I saw was its bulb antenna vanishing into the Pacific. Without saying a word, I understood what the creature was telling me. For some reason, it was not willing to take Samantha. I immediately erupted into a panic. No, no, no, what do you mean? You have to take her with you. You need to drown. I want to her dead, I said frustratingly. You need to take her like you did, Chris. She's a traitor's bitch who needs to die, I yelled furiously, like an entitled pregnant Madonna. When the creature ignored me, I spat out in anger, bending over and throwing handfuls of sand into the water.

Fuck you, leave. I don't give a fuck. Everyone does. I don't need anyone in this life. Screw you, fuck Chris. Samantha can, can what? A voice questioned him impatiently from my back. The fistful of sand in my hand cascaded to the floor as I slowly turned to see the person. who'd interrupted me, as if I already didn't know. My eyes slowly drifted up from the sand, beating a pair of feet, trailing up from her jeans, and stopping at the sight of a familiar hoodie. Chris's hoodie, a black Nike pullover.

Samantha's eyes looked at me with rage. Samantha can what? She repeated distastefully. Her sudden appearance had caught me off guard. My words caught my throat. She crossed her arms awaiting a response while sizing me up, head to toe, like the queen bee she thought she was. When her eyes looked at my feet, something caught her attention.

Is that Chris's phone? She said as her face drooped in mild worry, gesturing to the iPhone line in the sand, an idea drifted into my head. A mischievous smile slid across my lips. My eyes looked into Samantha's worried expression. Yeah. It is, I said delightedly, savoring the way Samantha's face contorted it as the words burrowed into her ear and down her spine. I swear I heard Samantha's heart thud against her tongue.

chest, speculation causing her to lose her cool. She bitter lips, afraid to ask the question festering on the tip of her tongue until finally. Why do you have Chris's phone, she said, trying to faint a confident tone, a tone betrayed by a crackle of worry. I know that look all too well. It was the same look I had on my face when I heard her moans through the door of her bedroom. The pain that reverberated through my body when Chris's name freed itself from her throat. I remember trying to deny reality in that instance. same insecurities playing in Samantha's mind before me. Why does she have Chris's phone? Where is he? Is he cheating on me? Her eyes scanned at the beach, looking for any sign of Chris. The irony.

No. The audacity of the situation almost made me laugh. If only she knew what happened to her little boyfriend, I thought, as I looked over my shoulder at the endless body of water at my back. If only she knew, I amused. I turned back to Samantha, her arms caressing her own elbows, try not to jump to conclusions. Oh, honey, it's exactly what it looks like and so much more. It would only take the truth to topple her sanity. He came calling back to me yesterday. He begged for me to take him back.

He's dead. The words dance on the end of my tongue and visions of her falling to the ground and a gut-wrenching cry clouded my eyes, but I couldn't bring myself to say it. He's dead. Instead, I chose to draw out her suffering, telling her a half-truth. He's been with me since yesterday, said in a sassy tone. Normally I wouldn't be picking a fight, but for some reason I doubled down on

that comment. We talked for hours about everything, about us, about you. The words were directed at Samantha teasingly. My hand drifted to my hair, and I started to playfully twirl my locks around my fingers. He had a lot to say about you, I added, my tongue savoring each word, Samantha's eyes glassing over in heartache. He said he wants to get back with me of how leaving me. Of how leaving me for you was a mistake of how he loves me more than you. I said the edges of my lips curled as Samantha's mouth gaped open. That's not true, Samantha said dismissively, trying to convince herself that what I was saying was a lie.

To my credit, Chris did say those things to me. It was only yesterday that Chris and me walked up and down this very beach as he professed his love for me. He talked and I listened, not questioning if what he was telling me was true or not. Little that I knew that Samantha and him were snuggling up together each night since I found them wrapped in each other's arms. Chris got what he deserved, and while my words were clearly stinging Samantha, she needed to experience my full rage. Samantha stared blankly at the ground, studying every grain of sand as if they would give her

reassurance she was looking for. This sight of her stupid, bewildered face made me so angry. I pictured my hands around her throat as the life slowly disappeared. I could feel her labored breaths as she gasped for air like a fish out of water. I imagine dragging her body the edge of the the water and letting the waves pull into the stormy sea. A hint of trepidation clouded Samantha's thoughts and an unfiltered question directed itself my way. What else did he say, Samantha asked, denial now giving way to a fearful quiver. I took great satisfaction as she cowered before me like a sad little puppy. I could keep drawing this out or I could go straight for the jugular. I opted for the latter. Returning the hands of my hair, twirling my curls around my finger, while suggestively

biting my lip. Um, we didn't do much talking after that, I said, in a cutesy tone. Samantha's heart shattered before my eyes and a euphoric warmth washed over my body. That statement was a complete lie. Chris has been pretty quiet since yesterday. I returned my gaze over my shoulder wondering what my little friend had actually done with that asshole. Just as I began turning my head forward, something tackled me to the ground. Samantha cradled me between her legs and started clawing at my face like a ravenous animal. She screeched at the top of her lungs. No audible words actually came out. Through the flurry of slaps, I managed to get a glimpse of the tears streaming down her cheeks. I took great satisfaction in her pain, so much so that the world seemed to be

at a standstill. I watched the seagull's circle overhead, behind Samantha's head. I'd never actually seen them like this before, staring straight up in the cloudy sky as their white wings rode the cold breeze into the sky. In that instance, I was never seen. ever more at peace. A moment was cut short when Samantha started pressing two thumbs into my eye sockets, sending the world roaring back into my ears. You bitch, she screamed. I felt my ears being shoved to the back of my skull as she pushed them in with all our might. The pain finally made an appearance, and I instinctively grabbed my wrist trying to pry her hands away. Get off, it yelled. As a starey, black fog danced behind my eyelids, obviously Samantha paid me no mind. Her thumb still pressing

into my eyes, she lifted my head and began bashing against her. She lifted my head and began bashing against the soft sand. Thud, thud, thud. The pain radiated from the back of my skull. If this was concrete, I would already be dead. Samantha gave a primal war cry, as instinct propelled me to grab a fistful of sand, smothering it into her eyes. When I did, the light returned to my vision. Samantha desperately tried to clear the debris from her face. I saw my opening and pushed her off of me, her back meeting the sand. Despite the sand in her eyes, they widened as I raised a hand over my hand, bashing a fist at the side of her cheek. The impact made her head thwarted backward.

That stupid bewildered expression plastering across her face again. It made me so angry. I continued to hammer her face. Stop. What do you bash? She tried pleading, but my fist shoved the words back down her throat. Naomi, please. Thud, thud.

It felt so good to watch her squirre and fight as she tried to escape. Naomi, smash, smash, smash. While one of my fists blackened her eye, a cold voice rode the early morning sea, breeze, and halted my fist. No, it hissed in a ghostly tone. I paused for a second before raising a fist above my head, fully intending to knock some at his teeth down her throat, but before I could bring it down, I felt an intense pain in my head. It was like someone was drilling directly into my skull.

As I reached for my head in an attempt to quell the pain, that same ghostly voice whispered into my ear. No, it said. But this time I wasn't. alone. It was as if the voice reverberated in my skull, bouncing off every inch of my cranium, causing the sound to sound like a chorus of hissing. No, they all said. The voices made me take it to my feet, hunched over in pain. Stop, stop, stop, I said, begging for the voices to quit. To my relief they did, the intense migraines slowly started to dissipate and the cloudy haze in my eyes drifted away.

When I managed to take in my surroundings, I saw a bloody figure at my feet. Samantha was lying there, trying to scramble to her feet as she spit out a mouthful of blood. You dumb bitch, Samantha spat out. You're going to get what's coming to you. I'll make sure of it. When Chris is done playing with this little horror, you'll come find me. Samantha said, woozily. Her feet struggling to stay beneath her.

As I watched her make her way up to the beach, something came over me. He's never coming back. You'll never see him again. I yelled at Samantha as she disappeared over the sandburn. The adrenaline started to flush out of my system, and I felt the pain of bruised knuckles. When I looked down, I saw one of the indentations of Samantha's teeth etched into my skin. I massaged my hand and turned back out to the ocean.

The waves had quieted. There was no sign of life, goals, no creature. Only the sound of the rhythmic gurgling of foam against the yellow tsunami buoy and the occasional ding of its last little bell. I sat there for another few hours thinking about what just happened. It wasn't until the sun was brushing up against the horizon that I finally snapped out of my trance. Dusting myself off, I made my way up the beach. I climbed my porch steps now, starting to feel guilty. It's funny how rage makes you feel so sure of your actions. Now that I had gotten my

revenge on, Chris, a mix of contradicting emotions came over me. I don't know what had gotten to me. I was not a violent person, but here I was a possible accomplice to murder. On top of it all, I'd basically confess to Samantha. He's never coming back. You'll never see him again. What the hell was I thinking? How long until someone reported the scumbag missing? Samantha was a dud, but even she was capable of making the connection between my statement and Chris's disappearance. My mind drifted to Samantha herself. Although I hated Samantha with all my being, I felt sorry for her.

She'd been my friend for most of my life, and I would have killed her if it wasn't for the voices in my head. The whole situation became too hard to process, and my hand strapped over my eyes as tears started to stream down my cheeks. Chris is dead. I whispered, breaking out into a guilty weep. I killed Chris. My laminated voice quivered. Oh, God. I killed Chris, I repeated in disbelief.

Paranoia fully engulfed me. Someone's going to start asking questions about where he'd run off to, his roommate, Samantha, his work. I'm fucking screwed. I'm so fucking screwed. I said as I paced up and down the length of my living room, my mind drifted to all the possible ways I could be implicated in the crime of our text messages, are recent calls and the fact that I was probably the number one suspect when people started to ask questions. Suddenly, a spine-chilling realization drifted into my head. Chris's phone.

Where is it? I frantically searched my place, hoping to find it under the couch cushions in a drawer anywhere. To my dismay, it was nowhere to be found. I suddenly remember having it on the beach with me earlier that day. The evidence that I was the last person to see Chris alive stored in its contents. I pictured it laying up against the soft sand of it being found by some random beachgoer and them turning it into the police. I instantly darted to the sliding door, thrusting it open and running into the cold ocean breeze. But just as I walked through the doorway, I smashed into something hard. The impact made me fall to the floor. When I lifted my gaze, a scaly figure stood in the frame. A familiar jagged smile greeted me. My gaze made its way down the creature's

body and stopped when it reached its clawed hands. And its right hand was Chris's phone, and the other, Chris's severed head, still oozing blood. I crawled backward, back into the center of the living room, but the creature followed, taking squelching steps as its wet feet pressed up against my hardwood floor. The dribble of Chris's blood was not far behind. What are you doing here, I said, unafraid of the creature, but certainly wary of the severed head. The beast towered over me, with an outstretched claw. It handed me Chris's phone.

I took it hesitatingly. When it was fully in my grasp, the creature slowly retreated back out the sliding door. I watched as the trail of blood looped back around and followed the beast out. While I was relieved, I was still paranoid of what my fate would baffle me. In an attempt to quell my fears, I pocketed the phone, sat on the couch and turned the TV on, trying to drown out the thoughts running through my head. When the image pixelated in front of me, my heart dropped. The local news was plain and on the bottom of the screen,

was a news bulletin. Headless Corps was found on Grace Hammond Beach. Just down the road from my house. Fuck my life. My wife did something unspeakable. Mary and I have been married for the better part of a decade now. She's the love of my life, and I wouldn't trade her for anything. The only problem is the woman that mothered my son is no longer here.

I don't mean that in a literal sense she is alive and well, at least as well as she can be considering the recent trauma she's been through. About three weeks ago, she's received terrible news from back home, one that shadowed her entire existence. Her parents had died. It was some freak accident, carbon monoxide poisoning. The grief overtook her to the point that she could no longer function. I thought that she would get better after the funeral, but there she was, rocking back

and forth in the corner of the living room. I tried to give her as much support as I could, but no matter what I did, I could not find a way to quell her pain. It finally got to the point that I feared leaving our three-year-old with her. I needed to get her professional help. One day when she seemed in better spirits, I decided to share some news with her. I had booked a therapy appointment at the local counseling center. As she looked at the living room's blank white wall, I pressed a hand on the middle of her back, jolting her out of whatever fascination she had with its white facade. Honey, I said in the sweetest tone I could must her. Surprisingly, she didn't sip it, fire, into her.

my face like the last few times I tried to speak with her. As her eyes looked at me from behind her puffy eyelids, she gave me the first genuine smile in a long time. Hey you, she said. A loving way she so often addressed me. I took a seat next to her on the ground, crossing my legs as I gathered the courage to send her into an inevitable fury. I took a deep breath and spit out my confession. Honey, I'm really worried about you. My voice cracked as the words fought me on the way up. I want to help you, but no matter what I do, I can't find a way to take your pain away. I said as she tried to process what I was saying. To be honest, after seeing her blank expression, I was sure it was falling on deaf ears.

That is, until her gaze dropped, and she opened her mouth, giving me a gut-wrenching response. No one can help me. Her response was monotone and cold. I've never seen anyone experience as many contradicting emotions as she did in that instance. Her eyes signaled sadness, her brows anger, and as she returned her stare to the wall, I swear I saw a sense of hopefulness. Only he can help me. I returned my gaze to whatever her eyes were glued to, but the walls empty void did not instill confidence in my wife's sanity.

I knew then that she was far beyond any help that I could render. I took her hands, grasping them with love. Honey, I questioned cautiously, but she did not return her gaze to me. placing my hand under her chin and tilted her face back over to me, cautious, almost timid that she would chomp down on my fingers if I strayed too close. When her face was pointed towards me, but her eyes remained glued to the white walls. Twisted, her irises half hidden behind the edges of her eye sockets. The sclera of her eyes webbed out with long skinny streaks of blood vessels.

No matter what I said to her now, it would not be registered. She had retreated into her state of extreme grief. my heart filled with dread, but for what it was worth, I was going to vent my concerns, even if they would go unacknowledged. So there's this doctor that was recommended to me by a friend down at the counseling center. As expected, the words just decorated the air around her, but I pressed on anyway. He specializes in grief counseling, and I think he could help you. Once again, the words did not register, or so I thought until I saw her eye twitch.

I took that as a sign of piqued interest. His name is Dr. Robinson. I knew this is out of the blue, but I need to get you seen by a proper professional. You need help, honey. This isn't normal. Her eye gave another twitch, only I finally noticed that it wasn't her eye, but something swimming around behind the little blood vessels that gave the impression of an eye twitch. What the hell I thought to myself?

Taking to my knees and inching my face closer to whatever was crawling inside her eye, Upon closure inspection, something wriggled in the grotesque fashioned, burrowing a path through her eyeball. Little figure inside, crested its tiny little head, and began chewing towards the surface of her sclera. What the fuck the little voice in my head said? Trying to comprehend what it was seen? A little white insect poking its head through the newly dug hole before it fell completely out of her eye like a fallen tear. You now lay on the fabric of her jeans, flopping around like a creepy crawler from hell. I pinched it with two fingers and held it up to the light.

It was a maggot. I jumped back in disgust, falling back onto my palms. The bug flung to some far off corner of the room. In shock, my eyes were planted firmly on my wife. Just then my son called out. Daddy? This wasn't the time to indulge my son, so I returned a dismissive statement. Not down, buddy.

I responded a shaky voice, still in shock of my wife's eye maggot. When I taking to my knees, I re-examined my wife's face. The little hole the maggot had crawled out of was no longer there. Regardless, I kept my eyes planted behind the little red blood vessels in anticipation of another wriggly figure swimming around. My wife suddenly darted her face towards mine at lightning speed, chopping her teeth onto my cheek. I felt my skin give weight until the flesh freed itself from my identity.

The shock of the ordeal made me wince in pain, forcing me to close my eyes. When they opened, my hand draped over my flesh wound. I held my palm out in front of my examining the blood. Daddy, my son signaled his growing impatience. I ignored his whining, and returning my eyes to Mary. A trail of blood dripped off her chin as the wall continued to hypnotize her. Daddy, can I eat this little jelly bean? Tommy blurted out his question.

Yes, yeah, whatever you want, buddy, I said. He returned with an excited. Yay. I sat there for a split second before the realization hit me. Little jelly bean, the fucking maggot. No, stop. I turned to see my son dropping the slithering insect down his gullet. Running over to him, I clutched him by the cheeks, for instance, in his mouth ajar.

Spit it out, I commanded. And so we did. The maggot now lay in the center of my palm, its body couldn't have by my son's milked teeth. Aw, dad, my son whined. But mommy lets me have all these little white jelly beans I want when you're at work. My skin broke out into pimples, borderline hives as the words left his mouth. Just then I heard my wife mumbling something with a steady cadence.

Little white jelly beans. Little white jelly beans. Little white jelly beans. He repeatedly rocked there, singing the same song. Little white jelly beans, little white jelly beans, little white jelly beans. I knew then that my wife could no longer be left alone with my son. I had no choice but to send my wife away to an institution. It was too dangerous to have her near my son and, well, the help she needed would be given to her around the clock at this mental hospital.

She, however, did not go quietly. I told her about the reasoning behind why the men and scrubs were wrapping her in a straight jacket. Her sickly mind could not comprehend the logic. So you think I'm a bad mother. How dare you? I hope they come for you. I hope they choke you in your sleep. I want you to know that I traded you for them. He can have you so I don't give a fuck. Mary blared out as they carried her off. At the time, I thought it was all nonsense, but now I wished her words were some psychotic delusion. The coming days were seemingly calm. I had taken a few days off work as he'd care for my son while I arranged for someone to babysit Tommy.

For the most part, I'd just scrolled through my phone when my son watched cartoons, but everything changed when I saw my son whispering to the wall. The same wall my wife had prayed to for weeks on end. I shot to my feet in a slight panic. Hey, buddy, what are you doing? I called out, but he didn't answer. He just kept talking to the one, a hushed tone. I took to my feet and slowly made my way over to him. When I was inches from him, I could finally hear what he was saying.

Yeah, they're really good, he said, with a chuckle. His eyes turned on the wall as if it was speaking to him. He produced a response to a seemingly one-sided conversation. I don't know if he likes them. I can ask. He looked over his shoulder and posed a question with a grin. Daddy, do you like jelly beans? My heart dropped as my gaze crested over his shoulder.

In his hands were palms full of squirmy little maggots. He finally spun around and offered them up to me. I slapped the bugs out of his hands. I grabbed him by the shoulders trying to force him to answer my questions. Where did you get these? Where did you find the little jelly beans? He wiped away tears and pointed at the wall. The man told me that they were from grandma and grandpa.

I looked over at the white. wall. What man, Tommy? There is no man, I said, almost trying to convince myself that there wasn't something nefarious happening here. There is. There is a man. He said that he was here to bring grandma and grandpa back. He said he promised my mom, but we just have to give him one thing. Tommy paused, thinking of whatever this imaginary man told him. What, what does this man want? I command with wide eyes while shaking him with impatience. Tommy returned his eyes to me and simply stated, you. Just then a shadowy figure lifted its darkened tinge from the wall,

disappearing into a dark passageway. I saw it moving to my bedroom, but it paused as if it were waiting for me to follow it. Tommy cowered behind my legs. It's okay, Daddy. The man said we wouldn't be apart for long. He said that all of us would be together again soon. I looked down to Tommy, who bore a hopeful expression.

With a grin, he said ecstatically. The man told me about this place called hell. He said we would all rot together very soon. I don't think he understood that sounded more like a threat rather than a message of hope. The shadowy figure disappeared behind the doorframe. Daddy, what does rot mean? Tommy questioned, but I didn't answer. Are you going with him, Daddy, so we can all rot together?

He said with mild giddiness. There was no fucking way I was going to fall whatever was waiting for me in the bedroom. Just as I was going to grab Tommy and run out of the house, he darted off towards the bedroom. I tried to make him come back to me, but he quickly dismissed my command as an option. When his little body stood at the entranceway, his eyes filled with wonder, I saw him outstretched his arms and running for a hug, disappearing into the dark room. I stood there frozen in fear, but the need to protect my son eventually inched me forward. As my eyes peered around the door frame, my heart stopped. Silhouated in the dim moonlight, shining from the window, stood my two deceased in-laws.

My little boy clung to his grandmother's leg, however, she did not return the gesture. Instead, she and my father-in-law kept their eyes planted directly at me. I could not get a good look at them, but I could tell that they were not okay. I'd seen them in their caskets a few weeks ago after all. The shadowy figure stepped into view from behind the recently departed couple. Whatever it was, it was tall, standing high above my in-laws. It outstretched a hand, and it met the moonlight. I could see that no flesh clung to its person, rather.

The hand was pure ivory. I reached a shaky finger for the light switch. When it clicked on, the shadowy figure vanished. What remained was a horrific sight of my rotting in-laws. In the shine of the bright fluorescent bulb, I saw their skin literally crawling. It wasn't until a few bits of flesh dropped to the floor that I realized the little white jellybeams feasts on their flesh. Tommy looked at the bugs with a twinkle in his eyes. You see, Daddy, the man wasn't in line. They're back. They're really back. Tommy exclaimed it with excitement.

Curiosity overtook him, and he picked one of the jelly beans off his grandmother's leg, plopping it into his mouth. At that moment, my mother-in-law's eye fell out of its socket. It dangled there as more jelly beans crawled out from inside her cranial cavity. Tommy caught wind of the spectacle. But instead of retorting in fear, he hopped in place with giddy excitement. He found the dangling eye hilarious. His excitement quickly vanished as something caught the corner of his eye. He looked in my direction, but not at me, as something towering behind me.

His little face contorted as if you were trying to comprehend something. A look of understanding washed across his face before he looked in the way. into my eyes. The man says you have to go with him now. Suddenly, I felt a sudden draft chill the air behind me. From the corner of my eye, bony hand crept into view. It caressed my shoulder, gripping it with curiosity almost cracking my bones under the pressure. I forced myself from its grasp, swiveling violently around to see my aggressor. In front of me stood a tall skeleton, cloaked in a black shroud. In its hand was a massive scythe, the blade glistening in the lightning. No matter how bright the fluorescent light was, the two holes where its eyes should have

appeared as black as midnight. It outstretched a hand, pleading for me to go with it. I stammered back on my heels, trying to comprehend this situation, but bumped into cold flesh. A few bugs fell on my shirt as the smell of death hit my nose. Over my shoulder stood my burly father-in-law, his eyes devoid of life's spark. I had to get away. I grabbed Tommy, prying his hands away from his grandmother's corpse. We managed to make it to the bathroom, slam him.

door shop behind us, though I think you'd do little to keep the shadowy figure out. We now sit here waiting for daytime, though Tommy informs me that I belong to the man now. No matter what I do, I'm asking for help. What do I do? I'm pretty sure that my wife's made a deal with death. I'm screwed. Fucking screwed. And all right, guys, that wraps up some deranged, Reddit stories. These were some interesting stories, a little bit more paranormal and stuff. Comment down below if you'd like to see more paranormal stuff or more kind of, you know, true stories because I like a mix of both,

but for me, it's kind of true stories, but I know a lot of you guys like the paranormal stuff. So comment down below what you'd like to see in the future. Would you like to see longer videos, shorter videos, anything, any other sort of feedback? Just comment down below. Please like and subscribe. Helps out the channel a lot.

500,000 subscribers. And, yeah, this is Snook. And I'll see you next time.