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He and I have known each other since we were kids. We were inseparable; even when we had our fights, we would always apologize and go back to our normal selves. When he finally asked me out, I realized that he actually had a romantic side to him that I never thought to be possible. On our second anniversary of being in a relationship, he proposed by putting the ring in my glass of wine. I know, cheesy, right? Well, I thought it was just right.
Now each twenty-eight years of age, we are living happily in our quaint home on the outskirts of St. Paul with our three children. After I dropped off the kids at school as usual, I decided to do something a little different, rather than going to my boring office job that I despised. I drove home only to find my husband's car in the driveway.
Odd, I thought to myself. He should be at work now. Maybe he called in sick?
I walked to the front door, discovering that it was not only open; it had a dark red streak running across it.
"Honey? Are you here?" I called to the void of the strangely dark house.
My voice echoed back to me, and after no response, I went inside. Growing anxious, I tried to turn on the lights, but to no avail - it seemed the power was out.
"I guess I have to turn the power back on," I sighed as I headed for the basement.
As I headed down the stairs, I called out again. There was no reply. After what seemed like an eternity, I reached the door to the basement. Again I saw a dark red streak marking the entry. I nervously opened the door, and what I experienced will scar me for the rest of my life.
When the door squeaked open, the most pungent smell entered my nostrils. It smelled like something was rotting, and when my eyes eventually adjusted to the light, I found the source of the smell. On the workshop table was a corpse. For some unexplainable reason, I approached the body, and then everything went black.
When I came to, I was laying on the cold concrete. I tried to move around, but found that my arms and legs had been bound together. With my limited vision, I started to make out a figure standing before me.
"I wish I didn't have to do this to you," said an eerily familiar voice. "Did you really think you knew everything about me? There are some things that just have to remain buried. Unfortunately, you may have to be one of them."
Piecing everything together, that monster of a man that had made me feel loved all my life stood before me, butcher knife in hand and bloodstains on his otherwise clean plaid button-down shirt.
"It almost makes me sad, actually. But don't worry, the kids are fine. They're all right here," rubbing his belly as he said this. "God, they tasted good. I regret not letting you have a taste."
Chuckling, the man I thought I knew brought the knife to my throat.
"But you're going to taste even better!" he screamed as blood gushed from the gash.
Screaming, I wake in a cold sweat. Everything is as it should be. Laying in my bed, my husband curls up to me.
"Bad dream?" he asked.
"Yeah," I say shakily. "It seemed so real, though."
"It's okay, hon. You wanna talk about it?"
"No, but can I ask you something?"
"You can ask me anything, you know that."
"Are there secrets that you've kept from me?"
"Of course not! Why do you think I would do that?"
"Oh, no reason."
"Go back to sleep, love. It will all be over soon," he says, as I feel his cold blade slash my neck.