Insane might not be the word. My revelation had come at an odd hour that night, as I realized in the flash of an instant that the emotion I supposedly had for my wife all along had not been love, but hatred. My seemingly beloved wife, sleeping peacefully beside me. Her evil had brainwashed my weak mind and blurred the focus of my vision to see only her beauty and ignore the wretched beast within her heart. Abused and enslaved all these years, I thought. How could I be so stupid? Sitting up in bed, I ran my fingers through my hair, half-asleep but half-awake for the first time in my life. Her shining soft hair flowed down her bare back and onto my pale, trembling hand. She and I had made love only a few hours ago, and yet I hated her now more viciously than I had ever blindly loved her. Don't misunderstand my ramblings, for I had been under her spell far too long. Perhaps her magic had fizzled too soon, and now I was freed. The look in her face when we first met, I can still remember. 
Feeling rather cold, I blinked open my eyes only to be met by her own. The room was dreadful dark, but her face, illuminated by thin rays of light coming through the small window in the room's door. Her eyes reminded me of two placid seas blanketed in the warmth of a sunrise, glazed over and unbiased. I nearly confused her golden hair for the rays of sunlight passing through the barred window. I wanted to reach out and stroke her innocent, carefree face, but I wasn't able to move my arms. She introduced herself as Christy. Something inside me wanted to avert my eyes from her locking gaze, but I was under her power already. The beautiful woman looked to be a few years older than I, perhaps nineteen or twenty. She smiled at me, making my heart race with passion. She looked back at me once more and turned to open the heavy steel door, closing it behind her. Only, she thought it was closed. It had actually been left ajar for only so much as one of her fine strands of hair to fit through. Through the tiny, square window I could see nothing, but I could hear a deep virile voice speaking to Christine. They discussed some kind of "procedure" and how successful it had been. Being a young man, I could gather no importance to their bantering of scientific jargon and expressions I had never heard before. I did not know it at the time, but the "procedure" as I heard it then so many years, must have been a brainwashing experiment which I was subjected to, because that is my last memory. My head ached with immense pain, drowning out my thoughts. When Christine came back into the room, a smile appeared upon her expression and her eyes lit up upon seeing me, and without recourse, I did the same to greet her, through the pain. She told me she would be taking me home. I did not remember ever having a "home" before, but I was glad to at least be with her again. The few minutes she spoke with the man seemed to be hours of anticipation burning in my heart (You can already see the malicious effect her presence had upon me!). She walked around behind me, leaving me once again (but not as long), and I heard a click and then a snap, and my arms were free. I reveled in excitement, waving them around happily (immaturely I must admit for a seventeen-year-old). This seemed to frighten Christine, as she backed into a corner, shivering, and resisting the urge to scream. I apologized fervently, not wanting to upset her. She breathed a sigh of relief, smiling. Christine approached me and took my hand, emersing my soul in bliss, easing my head pains. She led me out of the dark, opening the steel door so I could be the first to witness the first rays of light in my eyes. Blinding at first, my eyes slowly adjusted to the artificial and fixed upon black letters upon a wall directly in front of me. "Floor 3" read the first line. There were more words, but my poor english failed to comprehend them, and my headache grew worse. Christine pulled on my hand, smiling. I smiled back and followed her (There was something she did not want me to know, surely she was anxious to submit me to more torture). Before I knew it, we arrived at her apartment, and she offered me a small blue pill, explaining that it would ease the pain. Without reluctlance (how stupid I was!), I swallowed the pill with the help of some water. That night, Christine and I slept in the same bed and made love for the first time. Are these the times men dream of? I wish I could recall the awesome pleasure I surely experienced that night, but sadly no. I only remember the pills - everyday. The headaches would come right on time before bed, and every night, Christine would give me one to take (how could I not see through her witchery?). A few months later, Christine and I were married, and eventually had two children, Lana and Zachary. We had been married for more than fifteen years to the day, fifteen years of satanic, brainwashing pills. But tonight, ah tonight, my head ached in pain, but oh the pill had become so routine. I told Christine I wanted to fight the pain myself tonight and overcome my sickness. She stood there in front of me, in her bathrobe, holding the small blue pill and the glass of water, cringing slightly (she knew I had figured her out!). No matter how much she insisted, I refused the blasted pill. Finally she smiled up at me and set the pill and water down on the dresser. She threw her arms around me and embraced me unlike she had ever done (she sensed she was losing her power over me!). That night, as afore mentioned, Christine and I made love, transcending all my entire being. I had finally felt the love that had vexed my aching mind all those years. 
My head did not ache now. The pill still stood untouched on the dresser, and I was thinking more clearer than I had ever. I could reach into the depths of my mind that had been closed off from me for so long. I discovered a part of myself that was once lost to me. This became my ultimate revelation, and the discovery of my destiny. I put out my hands before my face, thought I could not see them, I was precieving them differently now. Lightning flashed, illuminating the figure of a tall man standing over our bed, pointing a long figure at Christine. I looked down at my wife stroking her cheek softly, as I reached for her shoulder and turned Christine onto her back. I smiled into her pure face, but her face was no longer innocent and beautiful. Christine's left eye was gouged out with a pool of the red subtance in its place, spilling the red substance over her cheek, covering her once angelic face. The left side of her face had been sliced open brutally exposing blackened muscle tissue. Brain matter oozed onto the pillow. I smiled again, looking again at the tall man, and he smiled with me, and slowly faded into thin air. Lightning flashed again and I could  see the same red substance dripping from my palms and staining my fingernails. At last I was free. I arose from the bed and approached the dresser where the blue pill and water still stood. Some paperwork was scattered around, on which Christine had placed the water and pill. I threw the pill and water out into the hallway. I skimmed the papers, trying to find something that would tell me what kind of beast my wife truly was. The papers became dampened and stained with the red substance as I read on. 'Westbrook Mental Institution' titled the document, 'Patient History'. My eyes lit up, scanning the red papers. One name seemed to stand apart from the rest - the name Christine Tepes.  

To be continued....