I should have known shit would end up going down hill. It always does when it comes to relationships but like most men, my penis fell and then my heart. Eh, you guys must be wondering what the hell I’m blabbering about, it’s love, of course. I was the person who never believed in getting married or committing any more than a fraction of my time to women.
We only have 24 hours in a day and your typical job requires at least 1/3rd of that time while the rest is designated to household chores, sleep and if you're lucky maybe an hour or two of recreational fun. It’s even worse for those who are juggling college along with a job. So why in the hell would any rational thinking man want to dedicate a large portion of their time to another person, especially when relationships go down the shitter all the time. Just ask my neighbors Jim and Sally, two doors down.
Even as a kid, I felt that being in a serious relationship was insanity at its finest. Oh, and marriage don’t even get me started on that scheme used to reduce men to nothing but a dog on a leash. Seriously, marriage is metaphorically handing your balls over on a platter to women. There is almost no incentive to marry a woman beside social recognition and making her happy. If you just so happened to marry a woman that has a heart, maybe—just maybe she won’t rip your balls off and chuck them into the sea, but either way, you’re giving her all the power. I’m going on off on a tirade now aren’t I?
Despite my passionate declaration of independence and not be shackled to any person, I was the person who couldn’t follow my own damn advice. It’s not that what I was saying was wrong, it’s just that deep inside, a part of me that I never knew existed sprouted out my ass like a bean stalk out of dirt when I first talked to ‘her’. And by her, I mean my wife: Tessa Marron. You see I met her in my economics class and there aren't any words that I can use to describe her: ineffable, perhaps. Our first real encounter was her snapping at me and telling me to get over my bad mood. It wasn’t the fact that she challenged me that piqued my interest but rather how she did it. There was no passive aggressive bullshit; she didn’t weave around the issue either, she simply called me on my shit. And she was right to do so, I was carrying over my foul mood from my previous work day.
In some inconceivable way, Tessa snapped me out of my funk, and she fell within my radar. To my surprise she invited me out first, it wasn’t a date (although it might as well had been) but to help cheer me up. I asked if this was her way of apologizing.
She scoffed, “What do I have to apologize for? I’m not disingenuous enough to lie when I don’t regret calling you on your crap.”
It wasn’t long before we became close. Our first kiss was on the dock by the Hudson River; the sky was illuminated by fireworks and the smell of gunpowder floated through the air. Tessa didn’t play those silly fucking mind games that those stuck up bitches did, and she wasn’t clingy like the needy girls with daddy issues. She didn’t try to force me into anything serious by asking me the old tired question, “Well, we’ve been seeing each other for a while, so I was just wondering where do we stand?”
And to my luck, she wasn’t one of the kinds of girls that liked riding the cock carousel. Nothing is more nauseating than a woman who thinks she’s enlightened because she’s fucked the whole neighborhood.
Tessa was so amazing that my dream girl was replaced and molded to be her. We had so much in common and although we didn’t necessarily like all the same activities; we were always willing to give it a whirl to make the other happy. In all truth, I was probably the one who was more enamored with her than she was with me. When I asked her out, she laid down the fundamental rules that she expected if the relationship was to work. It wasn’t anything crazy, just the normal things that anyone should expect if they want a long term relationship to occur: love, fidelity, honesty, and a willingness to make things work.
All of those things are tandem with love when it comes to me, but the word is thrown around so much that it lost value. Needless to say, once the relationship officially started my time with my boys dwindled significantly, I wasn’t the jackass who abandoned them as Tessa wasn’t the demanding type but I did prioritize her a lot more. It wasn’t long until I proposed to her. How I found myself kneeling in front of her with an open box displaying a diamond ring while we watched some cheesy chick flick called: The Notebook, I’ll never know. But what I do know is that I felt with every part of my being that I’d never regret that choice. Even Tessa was shocked, never in a million years did she expect me to propose considering my views on marriage.
“I would never have believed you would do this, not even if a prophet told me this was going to happen,” Tessa said, her voice reaching an odd pitch.
“You know this could possibly be the worst decision of your life, right? Weren’t you the one to tell me just how much of a death trap marriage is for a man?”
“I know, what I’m doing is completely irrational but…well, shit you’ve screwed me up hardcore, Tessa. And I can’t think of any other person I’d imagine doing this for. You’ve made the past three years amazing, and I loathe saying this, but I’d hate it even more if I had to live without you.”
Tessa sat there, her eyes glistened as she tried her best to keep the tears from coming.
“You’re the living definition of a contradicting hypocrite; you know that right?”
“Well, you’re more important than my principles. You’ve changed me.”
I sat there for what felt like hours as she just stared at me in disbelief. My knee started to cramp and I could feel my face growing hotter with every second that passed.
“Will you marry me, Tessa?”
She took the diamond ring and slipped it onto her ring finger. In an erratic burst of energy, she pounced on me knocking me to the floor and snuggled against my chest.
“Yes, a million times, yes! You don’t know how happy you’ve made me, Barry. You’re a fool for this but if you want to hand your balls over to me on a silver platter who am I to turn you down.”
I laughed, “Hey, I can call this shit off, we aren’t married yet.”
“Over my dead body, besides you’re not as evil as to dangle a mouse in front of a starving cat.”
“No, I guess I’m not.”
We were married within a few months, and life had never been better. My friends ridiculed me for being the first one married, but shit happens and it was worth it being married to such an amazing woman. Tessa is the most important thing in my life. She’s the love of my life, my best friend, my companion and the person I could always feel safe with. Well, she was the person I could always feel safe with.
Everything was near perfect, until the death of Tessa’s mom. We mourned together as her mother’s casket was lowered into earth. The loss of a family member is always tragic, it takes its toll on people and Tessa was no exception to this. Especially since her mother was last of her known relatives. Her father had died several years ago, and Tessa didn’t have any brothers or sisters.
Tessa grieved for around a week before she bounced back from the pit of sorrows. She proclaimed that being sad wouldn’t help bring her mother back and that she didn’t want to be a burden on me any longer. Everything became normal again for a short period of time until Tessa collected from her mother’s will. One day, we were stopping by to pick up some of her mother’s things. She wanted to keep the bracelets and ornaments that her mother cherished although there was a fucking lot of them, seriously, Tessa’s mom loved her jewelry and trinkets. After hauling about two or three bins full of the shit we got to the things in her living room, fortunately, or unfortunately in my case, she wanted to bring her mother’s lavender couch. I fucking hated that couch, not only did I find its design to be stupid as there was a miniature crawlspace under the legs, but the antique markings and plastic furnishing just felt out of place at the end of the day. I prayed that Tessa didn’t want to bring that thing home with us, but of course, my prayers went unanswered. Being the amazing husband that I am, I offered to stuff the couch in our van. But Tessa said she was just going to get some friends to help bring it over instead.
“Don’t tell me you’re going to be anal just like your mother was about this creepy thing,” I joked.
Tessa just gave me the impassive stare she always did when she was at odds. To be honest, that should have been the first sign that bringing that thing in was no good.
“Alright, alright, I was just trying to be the supportive husband.”
She apologized for how she behaved on the way back. She just couldn’t risk it being damaged. With of all of the others things we had in the trunk, there was little chance that the plastic wouldn’t get damaged.
I won’t lie and say I didn’t find it dubious that she couldn’t have mentioned it when I offered but most women were particular when it came to the condition of the furniture.
On the day that we moved the couch in Tessa laid down three rules:
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I was never to remove the plastic under any circumstances. That was weird but whatever, I could deal with that.
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If something fell under the couch, I was to pull it out with a hanger or any other object that I could reach with, never was I to use my arm or hand. I found this to be really odd and wondered if she was joking, but the look on her face told me she wasn’t.
-
I couldn’t sleep on the couch because if I did there was a chance that I’d rip the plastic off.
This rule was, ahh how do I put this nicely—bullshit, seeing as the couch was layered in some heavy duty plastic, but that was fine. I didn’t even like the thing, much less would I ever fall asleep on it. Things were relatively normal for the first week, but the couch never failed to make the damn hairs stand up on the back on my neck. Since we had to get rid of my old sofa I opted for a chair in the living room instead, which annoyed Tessa for some unfathomable reason. There were plenty of times she asked me to sit beside her but I wasn’t one to budge on something I didn’t want to do. Tessa even tried provoking my manliness, but that was the oldest trick in the book.
Eventually, she did get me to surrender, woman always do. I came home to find her splayed out on the couch in alluring lingerie revealing her scantily clad body. I’d like to say the dog didn’t bite the bone; I’d love to tell you that I simply walked past her and sat in the chair to watch TV, but I’d be lying. I was annoyed that she had used her feminine wiles to seduce me into sitting on the couch but I was the one who took the bait. Anyways, I used the couch from then on. The couch never felt less foreign but I convinced myself that I was acting a bit ridiculous.
Saturday, Tessa went out to hang out with some of her friends. Being left alone in the house wouldn’t do so I called some of my boys over to watch the football game. We had the house to ourselves so we did what any mischievous buggers would do, get drunk and watch some football. We howled and cheered when our favorite team won and John stupidly slammed the remote onto the floor causing it to bounce under the couch. I pushed him out of the way calling him an idiot and bent down to look under. Tessa’s words echoed in my head so I walked to get the hanger out the closet. The others looked at me weirdly and I explained Tessa’s rules.
“Man, I knew she had you on a leash, but she’s got you whipped now doesn’t she? You know she’s shit testing you, Barry!”
“Dude, I was the one who explained what shit testing was to you guys, I don’t need a lecture.”
They bent over dying of laughter as their faces turned red. Soon John got on his knees and put his hand under the couch in search of the remote.
The look of humor vanished from his face as he stuck his arm further in.
“Damn it, where is the fucking thing?”
Dave and Kyle continued their hysterics as he failed to locate the device. I could see the annoyed look on his face. But a few moments later he emerged with the remote in hand.
“Damn, I must be drunker than I thought that took forever. It’s fucking cold under there ya, know.
He tossed me the remote and indeed, the remote was chilled almost as if it had been in a refrigerator. The night didn’t go well after that, there were several things that nagged at me.
I felt shame for disobeying Tessa’s rules. I wasn’t the one who stuck my hand under the couch, but I didn’t stop John from doing so.
The couch was 7 feet long, a pretty moderate size. Even drunk out of your mind , it shouldn’t have taken John as long to find the remote as he did. That and the remote was cold when it landed in my hands. It’s almost like it had been in the refrigerator.
If only I had known this was the precursor to the following events, maybe things wouldn’t have ended up so fucked.
I didn’t tell Tessa about that night and to my knowledge she didn’t know about it. It was two days later that something started to happen you see, I noticed that Tessa began mumbling whenever she sat on the couch. You may be thinking ‘So what, she’s mumbling, lots of people talk to themselves’ and that’s true lots of people do talk to themselves. Hell I do, it helps me think, but Tessa was never the type to mumble.
In the eight years that I’ve known her, not once had I noticed her do that. I let it slide thinking that it may have been a quirk that she hid from me. That is until I caught her talking to the couch. She was rubbing her face against the plastic whispering signs of approval to it. I can’t begin to tell you how bizarre it is to see your spouse communicate with furniture. I blinked to do a double take only to see her sitting up staring at me.
“How’s the food coming along, babe?” She asked.
“Oh-uh it’s almost there,” I said, putting a lid over the simmering veggies.
While we ate I looked at her as she chewed her food. I asked her how she liked it and she tilted her head quizzically before responding that I knew she always loved my food.
“Barry, what’s wrong, are you okay?”
“Well, golly Tessa, I’m don’t know just kind of perturbed after seeing my wife talk to a damn couch.”
Her face flushed cherry red as she nearly choked on her bite of food. I was by her side in a flash patting her back.
“So you did see that. You must think I’m some kind of nut now, huh?”
“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t find the shit odd.”
“I’m not supposed to tell you but screw it, not like it matters. The women in my family have all conceived on this couch. My great grandmother had PCOS and as a result, she had an extremely low chance of getting pregnant. Yet, she was able to get pregnant after… how do I put this nicely, consummating on the same couch, with twins nonetheless. This has become known as the couch of fertility.”
“That doesn’t explain why you were talking to the couch.”
“Well, that’s because- no, can we just drop it, please. I don’t want you to think I’m even crazier than you already believe.
It was clear that she knew how off this sounded to me, and she fidgeted like a school child under scrutiny of her peers. I was torn between pushing her for information or letting her be. Being with Tessa for so many years had given me ample time to evaluate her character. This development had thrown me for a loop, and I wasn’t sure what to do.
In the end, the good in me took over. I expressed to her that although I found it strange I didn’t think she was crazy. A look of relief crossed her face when I told her she could tell me in her own due time. I could wait until she was ready to tell me of her own volition; that wasn’t a problem whatsoever. What I couldn’t help but ask was if she was trying to have me get her pregnant on the couch. I mean if it was truly a couch of fertility as she believed, then that dastardly scheme would make sense. Tessa said she was on birth control and simply wanted to break the ice so I wouldn’t be so opposed to sitting on the thing. She had missed our cuddling sessions and that was the easiest way to break the proverbial ice and warm me up to the couch.
I decided against telling her that the couch had left an even greater sense of unease than when we first brought it in.
That night I heard something coming from downstairs. I thought that it could have been my imagination as I was tinkering on the brink of consciousness, but the noise slowly rose in octave. At first, it seemed to be a piercing sound like a radio that hadn’t found a station, but the more awoke I became, the more the sound changed. I looked past my sleeping wife to see that it was 2:00 AM. How Tessa could sleep through such an annoying noise was beyond me. I put on my slippers and by the time I made it to the door, the noise no longer resembled static at all. This sounds fucking crazy but it sounded like a mixture between a child crying and a cat meowing for attention. Every thump that my feet made against the floorboards as I made my way downstairs caused my throat to dry. I could distinguish what the noise was it was words: a cry for help.
The stench of rotting flesh permeated the living room causing me to double back in disgust. My body was slick with sweat and a heart that palpated beyond its normal means. That’s when I saw something that I’ll recount until the day I die. Someone- no something was splayed against the ground its eyes were dead and hollow as it stared at me with ghastly placid skin.
A corpse was laying right there in front of me, but it was studying, watching me. I feared for my life gripping the pocket blade that I brought for protection. The room laid in utter stagnation except for my stifled breathing. Sweat glistened off my brow as every single breath I took felt agonizingly long. Between the rancid odor and my alarmed state of disarray, I wasn’t sure if I would manage to fight back if this thing decided to hurl itself at me.
That’s when it twisted its broken neck towards the couch. With sluggish movement, it dragged it’s broken-like limbs across the carpet using nothing but its chin. A trail of dark liquid, which I assume to be blood, stained the rug. Slowly, the creature receded under the space beneath the couch.
I don’t recall what happened after that. The next moment I can recollect on is an altercation I had with Tessa as I firmly wanted to get rid of the damned couch. The argument came so far as for Tessa to give me an ultimatum. It became that fucking serious that my wife indirectly threatened to leave me over a fucking couch.
I couldn’t help see anything except red as an indomitable force of anger took over me. I stormed into the bathroom and proceeded to beat the ever loving shit out of the wall or at least I tried to. My knuckles ended up bruised and bleeding. This was exactly the situation I didn’t want to see myself end up in. Love had blinded me but Tessa’s action showed me that I was expendable.
“Jesus, Barry what the hell?!” She guided me to the sink and ran antiseptic over my knuckle.
“What do you care, Tessa? Eight years and you give me this bullshit about how you’re going to leave me over something as stupid as a fucking couch. This was all a lie, huh, nothing but a fucking charade,” I spat.
Tessa wouldn’t look at me as she fished for the gauze from the cabinet and started bandaging my hands.
“You know I wouldn’t really do that, Barry. I was just angry. I shouldn’t have said that, that was stupid of me... sorry. If you really want to get rid of the couch, okay.”
I let her keep it rationalizing that I was acting off of pride. The dream had been something manifested by my dislike of the furniture. In the end, I was just acting like a child who couldn’t get his way.
The piercing wail didn’t occur that night, but it did the following. I ignored it for the first few times it occurred, but it started to take a mental toll on my health. I found myself barely functioning at work and was required to take a few days off by my boss. Tessa did her best to look after me before having to leave for work. I wish I could say that I was able to enjoy my days off, but I didn’t. You see, I started to find small things sticking out from under the couch. I had gone to watch some TV in the living room when I saw the glistening lustrous shine of violet engulf my view. I pulled the accessory, in question, out from beneath the couch. It was a bracelet made of amethyst. Originally, I believed that Tessa might have dropped it seeing as she would rather spend more time on the couch than laying on our own bed, plus with all the jewelry she has, she’s bound to lose a thing or two.
There was an itching feeling spreading through the back of my skull. The more I thought about it the more everything started to seem more and more off. And the next day I found something that wouldn’t allow me to simply write this odd turn of events off. A long silver striped tie peered from underneath the couch. I hardly ever wear ties and it wasn’t mine. Upon closer inspection, it was stained with a disturbing rusted orange.
The horrible nightmares had stopped as I was being brought into what was undeniably reality.
The days passed tortuously slow, but I was able to stabilize myself and focus. At night, I would spend time learning more about the woman I betrothed myself to. I couldn’t help but wonder if our relationship had been based on lies since the start. No, I didn’t want to believe what I had learned. It was such a preposterous possibility that even considering it to be true would have a psychologist question my sanity. But still, even though I knew that I needed full clarity and I wouldn’t be able to gain that by asking her.
Life is a strange coincidence, I had warned everyone about getting caught in the trap that is love and marriage, yet I did the exact thing I warned everyone against.
That Saturday, I told Tessa that I was going to work an extra day at work to make up for my days off. Sure, I was getting paid for those days regardless, but I told her that I didn’t want to get lazy.
Her amber eyes shot up in vexation, as she whined about me not telling her earlier. I kissed her head and told her that I would make it up to her and that it was just something I wanted to do last moment.
At the dead of night, I situated myself in the closet. The living room floor was covered with plastic. The plastic crinkled as something was being dragged across it. Tessa’s breaths were labored as she huffed from lugging dead weight. Icy sludge rushed through my veins cutting my breath short. John looked up at the ceiling as Tessa tugged at his pale white arm some more. There was no sign of life coming from his body. His chest didn’t rise and fall, his eyes were looking up but he wasn’t there he simply stared into oblivion, as a sharp object was sheathed in his chest. The early signs of rotting blood and decomposition were already starting to show.
“You know, I’m kinda sorry it had to be like this, John, but it’s not like you can hear me now, can you?” she giggled. “If only you didn’t stick your nose into our business, then this wouldn’t have happened. It’s a shame you’re such a worthless fucker, though, you could have had at least made it worth my time by having something of value,” she sighed.
The blood started to pool onto the plastic looking for an escape route. Tessa tugged again. “Can’t have you staining our carpet now.” Tessa slowly removed the dagger from John’s chest, the blade coated in nothing but sickening red. She pushed John’s body under the couch and wiped at her face with the back of her hand smearing John’s blood on her cheek. When she finished cleaning up and headed upstairs, I grabbed a broom and made my way to the couch. I peered underneath afraid that I would possibly see John’s cadaver staring at me, but there was nothing there. A cool draft pushed against my skin it was like having an air conditioner blasting. I stuck the handle of the broom underneath the couch trying to come in contact with John’s body but it didn’t touch anything. The further the broom disappeared in the crawlspace, the sicker I felt. All those nightmares I had weren’t horrid figments of my imagination, they were warnings.
I’m typing this on my laptop now. I’m not sure what I’m hoping to gain by recounting this story. I can’t go to the police as I have no evidence of my wife’s murders and even if I did I’m not sure I’d be able to. You see even through all of this, I’m still trapped. I still love my wife and want to make things work. I’m thinking about confronting her about this and telling her that I know everything, if I do that maybe I could convince her to stop, just maybe. She wouldn’t try to harm me; I don’t think she would, but that could all be wishful thinking.
Submitted July 22, 2017 at 06:21PM by Solaceus http://ift.tt/2vL97ZA nosleep
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