Gerry's eyes popped open. He couldn't help it. It was like a reflex, something that happened without thought.
He looked at the only thing in the otherwise dark room that he could see: the small digital alarm clock next to his bed.
12:37 a.m. stared back at him.
The bed felt light, too light for the combined weight of two people.
She's not home yet.
The words fastened to his psyche, threatening to spill out of his mouth at any moment, but he held them in check. After all, they were true. Janet wasn't home yet. It was almost one o'clock in the morning and his wife, the woman he'd said his vows to five years earlier, was not in their bed.
Realizing the absurdity of lying under the covers, oblivious to the safety of his wife, Gerry sat upright and bolted out of the bed. He was disoriented for a few seconds but quickly righted himself, bracing against the wall.
Is she working late? Did she have car trouble? Is she hurt?
Gerry tried to pin down one of the possible explanations, however dire they were, but couldn't. His heart ached, matched only by the panic that was building inside him.
Not being able to remember where his wife could possibly be, he forced himself to calm down. Panic would only complicate things. He needed to search the house, check for her car, call her friends. He needed to find out what happened to her, and quickly.
After checking the bedroom thoroughly and coming up empty handed Gerry took the stairs two at a time, and within five minutes had the lower level of the house searched.
Nothing.
All right, Gerry, check for her car.
He ran over to the front window. Relief washed over him when he saw Janet's red SUV parked in the driveway.
If her car is there, where is she?
He spun around when he heard the noise. It was soft yet distinct, vague yet defined, gentle yet disturbing.
Someone was trying to open the front door.
Gerry rushed over to the door, unlocked it, and promptly flung it open. He fully expected to see his wife standing in the doorway, glad to be home after a long day, but instead he felt his heart twist in his chest.
There was nobody there. Only an empty porch, sparsely lit by a cold, uncaring moon, stared back at him.
Gerry had had enough. Fear threatened to paralyze him where he stood but anger overruled it. He needed to get to the bottom of this. He clenched his fists and slammed the door shut.
Another noise punctured the stillness then. Despite coming from farther away it was louder than the first sound.
Gerry ran over to the stairs. They loomed before him like a viper, stretched and coiled for a strike at any second. He rushed up the steps and found himself standing in front of the bedroom door. The noise came from there. He was sure of it. It sounded like a muffled thud as if someone had fallen…
Off the bed?
Gerry stepped into the room, ready for the welcome sight of his missing wife sitting on the bed, waiting for him and wearing a puzzled expression as to why her husband looked so worried.
To his relief, Janet was sitting on the edge of the bed, facing her husband. A look of bored annoyance marred her pretty features.
Gerry sat down next to her. His body felt like water, relaxed and comfortable in the knowledge that she was safe at home. He wanted to ask her where she'd been, but resisted. Now wasn't the time for an argument.
He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and put his arm around her.
It fell to the sheets.
Gerry opened his eyes and saw that he was alone in the room.
"Janet? Where are you?"
No answer other than the beating of his heart throbbing in his ears.
"Janet? Janet?"
Panic crept into his voice, cutting off his breath as he frantically began fumbling through the room for any sign of his wife.
"Janet?"
And then he fell. His body slammed to the floor, knocking him senseless. Blackness enveloped him, effectively snuffing out any worries about his wife.
* * * *
When Gerry opened his eyes he saw the smiling face of his wife looming over him. He wanted to reach out and touch her but was afraid to. He was scared that if he did she might vanish again.
"Janet? Is it really you?" he mumbled through dry lips.
"Of course it's me."
Gerry felt a deep sense of love warm his body then, spreading its touch to every part of his heart and soul, guiding him to a higher understanding of what was really important in life. Love was what mattered, not money, nor jobs, nor any of the other aspects of daily life that people clung to in an effort to be recognized or appreciated by others.
But as he reveled in the gentle caress of his wife's fingers on his cheek, something else seeped into his soul, something dark, resentful, violent, something evil.
He rolled his head to the side and looked at the clock on the nightstand. Behind the small digital box with 6:11 a.m. glowing red on its screen was a plastic prescription bottle. His name was printed on its label just below where Thorazine was stamped in bold letters.
It was dated two days earlier and had not been opened.
Gerry felt sick to his stomach. His illness did that to him sometimes when he'd forget to take his medication.
He looked at Janet and immediately noticed a stark cruelty creasing her face. It tightened the corners of her mouth into something resembling a sneer, and somehow despite not belonging on such a pretty face, nonetheless seemed to be natural for her.
Gerry stared in disbelief then as Janet started to change. Her skin became pock- marked with festering sores, each oozing a translucent substance similar to motor oil. Her nose elongated to that of a stereotypical witch, hooked down across her mouth, which itself had stretched down past her chin. And her eyes changed to elliptical slits that burned an angry orange in color and radiated an undeniable evil.
"As you have obviously guessed," the Janet thing hissed through curved fangs, "I am not your beloved wife." It raised a pulsating arm and pointed toward the closet on the far side of the room. "But she is still here… right where you left her."
Gerry followed the creature's gesture to the closet. He hadn't looked there before, probably because subconsciously he knew what he'd find. He had killed Janet. He hadn't taken his medication and lost control, stuffing her body into the closet.
"Now you understand," the thing said in a raspy drawl.
"What are you?" Gerry mumbled through sobs. "What do you want?"
The thing gripped Gerry by the neck with a lightning-quick hand. It didn't squeeze the life out of him though, applying only enough pressure to subdue its prey on the brink of unconsciousness.
"I am the part of your wife that lingers after death. I am the culmination of the shock, fear, and ultimately, the anger and hatred for the one who killed her.
"I am her revenge."
And after seeing the look of comprehension and Gerry's face, the thing twisted his neck, effectively sending him into oblivion.
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