There is something wrong with my wife’s new friend

I find it hard to put into words when and how this nightmare started.

I moved with my wife, Sarah, to the other end of the country, which took a major toll on our social life as well as our marriage.

God, I wish I hadn’t accepted this job in the first place.

We were the social sort. She worked at a law firm, and I was a welder. Out of the blue, I got an offer to relocate and resettle at another site for three times my income. After discussing it with Sarah, we decided that I would take the job and she would find whatever work she could around here.

Everything was okay for the first few months, but life started to get dull. This place is somewhat small, and there isn’t really much to do around here that doesn’t become boring after a while. The lack of novelty took a toll on our marriage. I began to dread coming home from work and would take extra shifts just to delay going back to the house as much as possible.

Every day, I would sit for an hour in my truck on a secluded part of the road, just smoking and pondering. When I did come home, I prayed that she would be asleep so that I wouldn’t have to deal with her cold shoulder and snarky remarks.

And I thought that was bad.

A few months ago, we talked, and she decided to join some artsy club that one of her friends from work goes to. I was happy that this would finally get her out of the house and maybe calm her down for the time being. How I wish things were like before. How I wish we never came here.

So she joined this “club.”

At first, she genuinely looked happy, and I was glad that she managed to find some friends. She became happier and happier until she started becoming more dismissive and secretive about what they were doing.

One time, I asked, “Hey, what do you actually do?” and she just gave me this angry, bitter look before suddenly changing her mood and saying, “I will sign you up and you will see.”

This caught me off guard.

From that point, she went back to her happy, warm self. At least, so I thought. She would call me at work and ask about my day, which she hadn’t done in years. I would come home to large, well-made dinners. My favorite movies would be on TV. I would think about a gift for my birthday, and she would get me the exact thing I had imagined without me ever telling her.

Suddenly, my life turned from hell to heaven for seemingly no reason. I would still stop by the deserted road, only to cry tears of joy and wonder what the hell had happened. Not that I was offended or angry that it had.

Her intimacy also became something out of this world.

I took a major cut to my pay so that I could spend more time with her. I swear, each day I came home, she was more and more beautiful. And those weren’t subtle changes either. One day her hair would suddenly grow and turn lush and strong. The next, I could swear she was thinner and more muscular.

She spent a lot of time in her study making strange figurines for her art club. They looked dark, with strange runes carved into them. Supposedly, it was for some art world they were building. At least, that’s the core of the project.

I don’t know what material she used to make those figurines, but my head started to feel strange whenever I spent time in the house. I had this weird feeling as if they were looking at me. Sometimes I would hear faint whispers. Sometimes they would somehow move from one spot to another, even though I was alone in the house and never touched them.

My world became perfect until it came crashing down a week ago.

One day, I grabbed her hand and asked what had happened. I kept telling her how happy I was and how much our life had improved. She just smiled and said, “Maybe it’s time you met my friend Thilia.”

The name felt somehow off.

I agreed and suggested we go out somewhere, but Sarah insisted that she come by our house for dinner, as she was supposedly an extremely private person. I didn’t think much of it at the time. How stupid of me.

So we scheduled the dinner for Friday night at midnight, which, for whatever reason, didn’t strike me as odd. Someone coming to our house in the dead of night for dinner should have alarmed me, but I was so invested in my happiness that I had lost all sense.

Friday came, and Sarah wouldn’t let me anywhere near the kitchen. I mean nowhere near. I spent the entire day out of the house. I had taken the day off, no less, and Sarah just gave me this disturbing smile and said, “I will get everything ready. You go to town and have fun.”

No matter how hard I pushed, she wanted me out of the house. Again, I was too dumb to realize it.

I went to bars and enjoyed myself like a child with near infinite money. I came home just before midnight, and Sarah opened the door for me.

My jaw dropped.

She looked at least twenty years younger. I don’t mean she was well dressed or wearing good makeup. No, it looked like her aging had somehow reversed. Something made me shiver with unease.

“Come in, she’s almost here!” she nearly screamed with excitement.

The house was arranged like we were having a romantic party. She had flowers delivered. Incense sticks were lit all around, and the dinner table was filled to the brim with food.

One small detail struck me among all this abnormality. Sarah had a missing tooth that was suddenly there again.

Before I could press her for answers, someone gently tapped on the front door. There was no car outside, and we live far away from any public transportation.

“She’s here!” Sarah jumped with excitement and dragged me to the door.

The moment she opened that door, I felt sick. That gut-wrenching feeling when everything appears normal, but you know deep down something is very, very wrong.

“Thilia, welcome!” Sarah said with a wide smile.

The woman looked beautiful. Unnaturally beautiful. I couldn’t imagine anyone more appealing to the eye.

“Hello, Sarah,” she said while gazing at me.

Now I know her eyes were light blue when she came in.

“Can I come in?” she asked in a charming, feminine voice.

I muttered, “Of course,” and noticed her wide smile as she stepped inside. At that moment, everything around me seemed to dull, like I was severely intoxicated.

We sat down at the dinner table, and Sarah, for some reason, sat beside her instead of me. My knees shook. There was something very vile and off-putting about this woman. She wore a strange, ornate red dress with black jewelry set with what looked like priceless gems. Her hair was the darkest I had ever seen, perfectly kept.

She barely paid attention to Sarah, focusing instead on me, which made me uncomfortable.

Sarah placed the food in front of us in covered serving trays that we didn’t own before. She lifted the metal covers, revealing an exquisite dish made from some kind of meat and rare mushrooms.

My eyes widened. Sarah never cooked red meat, and this was far beyond her abilities. It looked like something prepared by the world’s best chefs. The strong, sweet, earthy aroma hit me immediately.

Sarah and Thilia stared at the meat with almost ravenous expressions before devouring it. They ate as if they hadn’t eaten in days.

My hands shook as I placed a piece of meat into my mouth. The texture was incredible, the taste unlike anything I had ever experienced.

“How is it, honey?” Sarah asked, almost mockingly.

“It’s… lovely,” I muttered, and they both laughed.

Even though it tasted incredible, I couldn’t swallow a single bite. It was as if my body refused to let me. I chewed and chewed, then discreetly spat it out whenever they weren’t looking. It felt wrong.

They ate like animals. Their portions dwarfed mine. They were like hungry lions, not human beings.

I felt anxious and out of place. Every part of me was telling me to run, even though we were supposedly having a nice time.

After they finished, Sarah said, “We should get more meat next time.”

That sounded wrong. She had barely touched meat for years.

Thilia produced a bottle of wine, which Sarah opened and poured. She gestured for us to move to the living room and sit by the fireplace.

To my surprise, the armchairs were gone, leaving only the sofa.

She poured three glasses of a dense, almost oily red wine. Now I swear Thilia’s eyes were dark green. Her pupils didn’t react to light at all, as if they were decorative.

They drank quickly and pressured me to do the same.

The wine didn’t taste like wine. It was extremely sweet, unlike anything I had ever had.

After that, I phased in and out of consciousness. I remember nothing else from that night, except that Thilia gave me one of her black rings, which I cannot remove no matter what I do.

I woke up the next morning in searing pain. My entire body felt like it was filled with burning coals. I could barely make it to the bathroom.

No matter how much I demanded answers, Sarah wouldn’t tell me what had happened.

I never fully recovered. I grow weaker each day. I have constant nightmares, and I always see that woman in the corner of my vision. I hear voices in my head taunting me, telling me I am going to hell, asking if I enjoyed my dinner.

I had bite marks all over my body. They were deep and bloodied, but Sarah brushed them off.

Each night, I suffer from sleep paralysis.

Finally, Sarah went out again. It took all my strength to reach the taxi station and get to a private hospital in another town.

The strangest thing is that the doctors found no traces of drugs, alcohol, or any major injuries. They said they had never seen a case like mine. I tried to show them the bite marks, but they couldn’t see them.

My blood test showed that I am as healthy as a ninety-year-old man. And I seem to be aging rapidly.

This damn ring won’t come off. Three blades broke when they tried to cut it.

The doctors think I am schizophrenic, and I am struggling to convince them otherwise.

I swear some of the nurses are her. I recognize those eyes, even behind the masks. One of them smiled at me today. Her eyes were not the same color as yesterday.

And I know the ring was on my other hand when I fell asleep last time.

Sarah hasn’t called me at all.

Maybe she will get another chance to undo her wasted life, as she called it.

She denied ever being married to me when the hospital called her.