[ WP ] Your significant other is literally a demon . When they 're cross with you , they can make your life a living hell . Literally .

I did my best to get out of bed without waking her. I guess you could say it was a habit from past relationships, because she does n't sleep. Every night, I go to sleep and she just lays there, staring up at the ceiling, never blinking. I wake up and she's still staring at the ceiling, unflinching, the smallest of smirks typically frozen on her face. 
 
 She stopped pretending to sleep to make me feel comfortable years ago. I do n't know what she does to occupy her mind during those hours while I slip into unconsciousness, but assuming I'd even be able to comprehend it, I'm quite frankly too scared to ask. 
 
 So, as usual, I gently and quietly get out of bed, doing my best not to look at my wife's soulless, aimless gaze. Even after all these years, something about it is just unnerving. Despite the fact that I know as well as she does that she is indeed awake, she acts as though I'm doing a good job of not waking her. She enjoys humoring me like that, I think. Although she is the manifestation of every ancient legend and tale of fear and terror, there's a certain sweetness to her that I love. 
 
 After walking into the kitchen, I got to work preparing our breakfast. Truth be told, food for her was no different than sleep. She did n't need to eat. At least, she did n't need to eat what you and I would consider `` food.'' And again, just like her attitude towards sleeping, she would often eat typical food just to make me feel comfortable; to further cement the illusion that she's just another person. 
 
 But she is n't. 
 
 As soon as the smell of eggs and bacon began filling the house, I heard her footsteps coming down the stairs. For anyone else on Earth, that sound would induce unimaginable fear; the audible cue of pure horror slowly creeping its way towards you. But not for me. On the contrary, the sound brought a smile to my face. 
 
 She walks up behind me and wraps her arms around my waist in a soft embrace, resting her head on my back. 
 
 `` Good morning, baby,'' she says. `` Smells wonderful,'' she continues, after making some exaggerated sniffs. 
 
 She walks over to my right and pours herself a cup of coffee. She does n't sleep, so I never quite understood why someone who does n't need sleep would need something like coffee to get them up and going in the morning. Just like all of her other `` human,'' tendencies, however, I just assume that it's her way of making me feel comfortable. 
 
 She sits down at the kitchen table and pulls out a cigarette as I turn around to put a plate in front of her. She snaps her fingers as a small flame erupts from the tip of her thumb. She lights her cigarette and exhales her first drag, her eyes locked with mine. A part of me hates it when she does that. Sometimes I am powerless to look away. Whether or not I can is entirely in her control, and I never know if I'll be able to unless I try. The first time she made me stare into the beautiful abyss of her gaze, I saw the sun rise and set *twice* in my peripheral vision before she finally let me go. 
 
 I turned back towards the kitchen counter to fix another plate. That's when she asked in a soothing, somewhat suggestive tone, 
 
 `` Do you know what day it is, baby?'' 
 
 I froze where I was. My heart sank. 
 
 *I did n't know what day it is. * 
 
 I did my best to play it off as confidently as possible. Without turning around, I replied, `` Of course I do, honey.'' 
 
 I fixed my plate and sat down at the table across from her. She was still smiling at me, still staring. She had n't touched her food. I returned her smile as I dug into my breakfast. 
 
 `` What day is it?'' she asked. 
 
 A split second of confusion seemed to last for years before it finally hit me. 
 
 `` Our anniversary, of course,'' I finally said with a grin. `` Six great years.'' 
 
 `` *Six? *'' she said, quickly followed by an amused chuckle. `` Six years. Of course. Whatever you say, sweetie.'' 
 
 I hated it when talked like that, as though she knew something I did n't. I knew better than to pry further when she took that tone. No sense in annoying her. 
 
 She took another drag of her cigarette and slowly exhaled the smoke. 
 
 `` You're lying,'' she suddenly said. Her shift in tone almost made me drop my silverware as I began to cough up a mouthful of food. 
 
 I did n't want to look at her, but I knew I had no choice. My eyes looked up towards her. I was greeted not by her seductive smile or deceiving eyes, but a look of pure rage and resentment. It was subtle and restrained, but I knew her perhaps as well as she knew me. And that's saying something. 
 
 *'' You're lying! `` * she repeated, this time her voice gradually rising to a scream. `` You forgot! You did n't make any special plans! No dinner reservations! No concert! No show at all! Not even a movie!'' 
 
 She began to speak as though she was speaking with two voices simultaneously. She used to frighten me when she acted in this way. She still does to an extent, but I had since developed a sort of tolerance to it. I knew what was coming, and I knew I would have to weather this storm. 
 
 See, she is n't the only one in this marriage who frequently humors the significant other in order to instill a sense of comfort. I had started doing the same thing years ago, and as far as I could ever tell, I was far more convincing than she was. By the time we had been married for a year, I had seen all of her tricks. I had seen all of the things that had terrorized mankind for generations; things nightmares are made of. 
 
 And every time, I came out okay. Sure, she could make those things more *real* whenever she wanted. She could torture me, imprison me, kill me. I could n't stop her. Nothing could. 
 
 But she loved me as much as I loved her. It had become apparent that it was all just a show; a threat to remind me who is really in charge. And out of my own self-interest as well as my love for her, I would always play along. I'd act as scared and horrified as I did the first time. That's what she wanted. That's what made her feel comfortable. Deep down, however, I knew she loved me too much to actually act on any of those threats. 
 
 Without warning, I felt as though I was falling; plummeting into an abyss with no end as towers of flames erupted and surrounded me. My beautiful wife's eyes had turned blood red as she began to float above me, her long, black hair seeming to flow in wind that was n't actually there. We were n't in our house anymore, but I had lost count of how many times she had brought me to this place. 
 
 *'' Liar! Liar! Liar! Liar! Liar! Liar! `` * she screamed. *'' You forgot! You motherfucker, you forgot! How could you! Do I mean nothing to you?! Do you not care about us?! `` * 
 
 `` BABY, PLEASE!'' I managed to say, though trying to talk over her deafening screams was nearly impossible. I had at least grown accustomed to speaking while feeling as though I was constantly falling from an unimaginable height. That one took a couple of years to adjust to. 
 
 *'' Baby, baby, baby, baby, baby! `` * she echoed sarcastically. *'' NO! NO! NO! Not this time! This time you will learn your fucking lesson! `` * 
 
 I'm sure any other human being on the planet would be shitting and pissing themselves with fear at this point. I, however, was just sighing to myself, doing my best to be subtle enough that she would n't notice how exasperated the whole charade had made me. I had to play the part. 
 
 `` Let me finish!'' I continued. `` Please!'' 
 
 As if on cue, a sound managed to penetrate whatever hellish dimension she had dragged us to. It was the unmistakable ring of a cell phone. *My* cell phone. 
 
 Without another word, I was suddenly back in my seat at the kitchen table, silverware still in hand. My wife was still glaring at me, her eyes glowing red ever so faintly. I took a moment to gather myself, then stood up and grabbed my phone from the kitchen counter. It was my coworker, Greg. I knew I had to improvise. 
 
 `` Hello?'' I said, trying to be as nonchalant as I could. 
 
 `` Hey man, can you cover for me at work tomorrow?'' Greg asked. 
 
 `` Oh, so you do have some open reservations for tonight,'' I replied, taking a brief glance back at my wife. Her eyes had returned to normal, at least. 
 
 `` Um, what?'' Greg inquired, confused. 
 
 `` Excellent,'' I continued. `` I need a table for two at 8:00 tonight.'' 
 
 I glanced back at my wife yet again. A smile had returned to her face. 
 
 `` Ah, the wife, huh?'' Greg said, finally catching on. `` I get it. Say what you need to say and call me back when you can get away for a minute.'' 
 
 `` Okay... okay, great. Sounds good. We'll be there. Thank you.'' 
 
 I hung up the phone and turned around to find my wife standing right behind me, an enormous smile shining across her face. She was unspeakably beautiful. She placed her hand on my cheek and brought me in for a kiss. 
 
 `` I love you,'' she said. 
 
 `` I love you too.'' 
 
 
 

