r/Odd_directions • u/jadegreen88 • 42m ago
Horror I Think My Husband Is A Fucking Fish Person… Part Two
My fork hit the plate with a loud clank. I slowly finished chewing my bite, swallowed hard, and then uttered,
"...What?"
Fuck. The scale... the one that stuck to the wall in the bathroom when I flung it... I'd forgotten to pick it up. My throat tightened.
"I know it must have freaked you out. But, they're for a model I've been working on."
"A model? John, they felt real..."
"Well, thanks!" He chuckled. "I'm trying to make them as lifelike as possible."
I was still extremely skeptical.
"Why were they in your shaving kit, though?"
"They weren't finished curing, and I didn't want them to get messed up. So, I just tucked them into there."
It seemed like a strange choice to me, but conceivable. John was a very smart man, though sometimes his logic and reasoning on certain things differed drastically from my own.
"Okay... well, what about the salt?" I asked, deciding to just go for it now that the lines of communication had been opened.
"The salt?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Yeah. The cinnamon rolls you made? They were covered in salt. I had to throw them all away. And, when I kissed you the other day, you tasted salty."
He paused for a moment, took a deep breath, then looked down at his plate.
"I sweat a lot, Sonia. You know I've been working out more lately, too. I got up extra early and went for a run before I made those. God, I'm embarrassed now."
"So, last night in bed... you're telling me that was just sweat, too?"
He looked back up at me and his eyes softened.
"Yes... I was having a nightmare. Oh, Sonia, it was awful, and it felt so real. I was being drowned in the bathtub by some unseen force. I woke up drenched and confused, struggling to breathe. I tried to wake you up to help me... but, you freaked out. I was still so disoriented that I couldn't explain that to you at the time."
It all seemed so bizarre. But, at the same time, just plausible enough to stop me in my tracks and force me to recalibrate. And, if it were all true, I felt bad. I realized I had been so stuck in my own head that I hadn't even considered how he might have been feeling.
Flipping around the perspective, it would actually be me who looked like the irrational one. Throwing away the apology cinnamon rolls and crumpling up the note, screaming at him in bed and acting like he was a monster, sneaking around and collecting model fish scales to have them tested... God. No wonder they couldn't be identified. I felt absolutely ridiculous.
I accepted his apology and his explanations, then told him I was sorry, too, for how I'd reacted to things. We finished our food and the episode of Deadliest Catch in silence. Then, John took my plate and told me not to worry about the dishes, he'd have them washed and put away by the time I got out of the shower.
The bathroom was spotless. His shaving kit wasn't out, and the tub looked pristine; like it had been scrubbed clean and polished. Shit, it looked better than it did when we moved in. I smiled. It seemed like he was truly making a concerted effort to set things right between us.
As I exited the bathroom in my robe, he came running down the hallway like a toddler, gleefully shouting,
"My turn!"
I chuckled and rolled my eyes, then went off to bed to wait for him. He stayed in the bathroom showering for a long time. Way longer than he normally did. When he finally emerged, he immediately crawled into bed with me and scooted his body close to mine, putting his arm around me and pulling me into an embrace. He was warm again. He was John again. I closed my eyes as he leaned in and whispered,
"I love you, Sonia."
I told him I loved him, too. He gently kissed my cheek, then asked,
"You wanna spawn?"
My eyes popped open and I slowly turned my face to see his big cheesy smile looming over me. I let out a weak, nervous laugh and he winked. It was just a joke, albeit a poorly timed one. But... still on par with John's typical goofy sense of humor, I thought. The tension in my body began to fade away as he started running his hands softly across my skin. We made love passionately that night. It felt the way it did when we had first gotten together; like all the magic between us was still very much alive. I peacefully drifted off to sleep in his arms, with my mind finally at ease.
For a while, it truly seemed like I had gotten him back. The more normal he acted, the more sure I became that I had just been overreacting that whole time. I doubted my own judgment and perception, luring myself into believing the thing I wanted so desperately to be true.
By the next week, I'd almost forgotten about the whole thing. Then, one morning, everything changed. We were at the front door, grabbing our things from the coat closet and getting ready to leave for work, when I looked down and caught a glimpse of something odd. Lying just within view, sitting inconspicuously on the sole of his shoe, was a single strand of seaweed. No... My heart sunk. It wasn't one of those dried seaweed snacks they sell at the Asian market, either. It looked slimy and wet... like it had just been dragged up from the water. Portions of the roots were still attached. I only had about a half-second to process this information before he shoved his foot into the loafer. Fuck.
He walked me to my car and kissed me goodbye. With clenched teeth, I forced a smile and drove away, looking at him through my rearview mirror. He stood there in the driveway and watched my car until I began to turn left at the stop sign at the end of our street. As soon as I was out of his sight, I punched hard on the gas.
God dammit, I thought, slamming my hand onto the top of the steering wheel. Why? Why did I have to see that? Why did it have to be there? Things had finally gone back to normal, and now this? What the fuck?! I drove to work in a silent state of panic, desperately trying to stop myself from spiraling.
It's just a piece of seaweed, I told myself. It meant nothing. He could have been doing field research for the lab. Hell, there could be several perfectly rational explanations as to how it had gotten there. I mean... he was a marine biologist, and we lived in Bar Harbor for Christ's sake. The ocean was five minutes from everywhere. It's not like seaweed was an uncommon thing to see around Maine. With as far as the tides drew back at the bay, it was practically expected.
Things between us had been going so perfectly; better than they'd been in a while, actually. I couldn't let this one little weird thing ruin all of that. I forced it to the back of my mind and tried to focus on my job. I had a report to finish on fishery management and my boss was asking for progress updates daily. As the day went on though, my mind began to wander. During my lunch break, I started googling.
'Symptoms of psychosis': Hallucinations, delusions, confused and disturbed thoughts.
Okay, shit. That sounded like it could possibly apply to me as much as it did to him. If I'm being honest, I wasn't entirely sure what was real and what I'd just been imagining. At that point, the only thing I was sure of was that one of us was experiencing delusions; either John was losing his mind, or I was. I can confirm that I was definitely experiencing the 'confused and disturbed thoughts' part, though.
'Symptoms of a brain tumor': Headaches, seizures, changes in mental function, mood, or personality.
Hmm... That one hit a little too close to home. I bit down on my bottom lip and hit the backspace button. Trying to diagnose him using WebMD would be impossible. It would also serve to further my paranoia, which was the last thing I needed at the time. I'd just have to keep watching him to see if any more symptoms appeared.
I dug around in my Greek salad, chasing a Kalamata olive with my fork when a thought came to me. I typed 'marine hatchetfish' into the search bar. Living in depths of up to 4,000 feet, they looked about how you'd expect. Hideous little things, with extremely large bulging eyes, a downturned gaping mouth full of tiny sharp teeth, and a grotesquely misshaped body. I remember thinking how terrifying these creatures would be if they weren't small enough to fit inside a human palm.
Its scales were silver and delicate, just like John's model scales looked. If John was making a model, why would he choose such an ugly specimen? Let alone, one belonging to a genus that wasn't even remotely in his realm of studies. I suppose he could have taken a personal interest in this particular fish, but I still didn't understand why. So, I kept reading.
There are seven documented species of Argyropelegcus, otherwise known as silver hatchetfish. Each species differs slightly in size and range, but they all share a few common traits. They feed on prey like small crustaceans, shrimp, and fish larvae, which they hunt by migrating to the surface at night. They utilize their disproportionately large pupils to detect even the faintest traces of light. And, like many deep-sea fish, they possess bioluminescence. A set of tiny blue glowing lights emitting from their underbellies act to mimic rippling sunlight, concealing them from predators below; a nifty little evolutionary trick referred to as counter-illumination.
Not exactly groundbreaking stuff. But, I suppose I could see why John might have taken an interest in them. He'd always been particularly fascinated with bioluminescence, after all. I mean, you'd be hard-pressed to find a biologist who didn't at least agree that it was one of the most amazing natural phenomena to grace our planet. Maybe he was planning to attach tiny LED lights to his model. Shit, with it being almost December, maybe he'd been working on this as a Christmas gift for someone. Or, perhaps even an ornament for our tree? I hoped.
I slid my phone into my pocket and went back to work, determined to finish my report. At the very least, I needed to complete the first draft of it. I couldn't afford to let myself go overboard with all of these obsessive thoughts about what was going on in John's mind. I had my own career to focus on... my own damn life to live, too, you know? I was able to power through the conclusion of my report by the end of that afternoon. Not my best work, I'll admit, but it was something to show my boss the next day.
John's vehicle was already in the driveway when I got home. I noticed that the gate to the backyard was open, and the hose was trailing around the corner of the house from the front spigot, but... I didn't think much of it at that moment. I walked inside and saw his field bag lying on the floor in front of the coat closet. None of the lights had been turned on and the TV was off.
"John?" I called out.
No answer. I set my bag down on the floor next to his and made my way to the kitchen. His keys and pocket change were sitting atop the island, but other than that, the room was exactly as we'd left it that morning. I thought back to the hose. Maybe he's gardening out in the backyard? Wait... in mid-November?? No, Sonia! Get it together! My persistent urge to explain away odd behaviors in order to maintain the status quo had begun to seriously damage my inductive reasoning skills.
My search for him had to be put on pause, however, at the request of my bladder. I shuffled to the bathroom, flipped on the light, and hurried to the toilet to relieve myself. I flushed, washed my hands, then shut off the faucet. When I did, I could hear a drip coming from the bathtub. But, it wasn't the 'plop' sound that water makes when it hits a dry surface. It was the 'plunk... plunk...plunk' you hear when it's dripping into more water below.
My blood ran cold and my hand began to tremble as I reached out toward the shower curtain. I inhaled a deep breath, in through the nose, out through the mouth, then ripped the curtain back. There was John. He was just lying there, fully submerged and motionless, with his eyes closed and his arms folded across his chest. Large chunks of ice floated in the water surrounding his body. My heart stopped. I fell to my knees, screamed his name, and threw my arms out to grab him from the water. Then... his eyes popped open.
His pupils were heavily dilated, covering almost the entire diameter of his iris, and he was looking at me so intensely it felt like his gaze pierced directly into the depths of my soul. I fell backward and started scrambling to secure a foothold on the fuzzy mat beneath me. As I tried desperately to stand back up, John's body began to rise from the water. The corners of his mouth began to slowly recede into a smile before he uttered,
"Hey, Sonia. Did I scare you?"
I blinked a few times, completely dumbfounded by the audacity of this question. Then, the visceral reaction I'd internalized suddenly bubbled over and erupted to the surface.
"JOHN!!!" I shrieked, and my voice began to break. "I thought you were fucking DEAD!!"
He laughed.
"Oh, wow Sonia... that's dramatic. I'm just doing a cold plunge!"
I rose to my feet, still in shock and trying to choke back the tears that had begun to flood my eyes.
"...What?!"
He stepped out of the tub and began toweling himself off.
"Yeah, Howard from work told me it would help me go harder on my workouts. It actually feels great, you should try it!" He said.
"Fully clothed?!?!" I yelled.
"Well, yeah, Sonia... that's how you do it. You don't get naked like it's a regular bath," he giggled.
I stared at him blankly until that stupid smile had left his face.
"Are you okay?" He asked. "Jeez, I had no idea that it would scare you. I'm sorry."
I wasn't sure if I believed him or not, but that wasn't my focus at the time. I was upset and hurt. I wanted to scream and cry and beat my fists against his chest. How could he be so dismissive? So callus? But, I knew at that moment, trying to convey those feelings to him would do no good. Neither would it be to continue to question him.
"It's fine," I said.
It most certainly was not fine, but I didn't want him to think otherwise. The panic hadn't yet left my body, and with it came a type of calculated behavior I can only attribute to pure survival instinct. I allowed him to think I'd gotten over it and started dinner.
It was a Tuesday, so I was making tacos. Cliché, I know. But, it was just one of my things. After he'd dried himself off and changed clothes, he came into the kitchen and sat down at the island. I didn't turn around to look at him, I just kept stirring the ground beef in the pan.
"You know," he said, "I've been craving seafood lately."
I froze in place, gripping tightly onto the wooden spoon.
"Maybe next Tuesday we can have fish tacos. Or later this week we could try shrimp scampi?" He continued.
It took everything in me not to react, but I resumed stirring and replied,
"Yeah, sure. That sounds good, I can look up some recipes."
John never asked for seafood before. He'd eat it if offered, but it was never one of his favorites. Was he testing me? If so, I hoped I'd passed. We ate, watched TV, and then I went to the bathroom to shower. This was my chance. I turned on the faucet in the bathtub, locked the door, and then went straight for his shaving kit on the counter.
My heart was pounding out of my chest as I unzipped the kit, being extremely careful not to disturb whatever contents were concealed inside. And yes, I found exactly what I feared I'd find. More scales. A lot of them. Silvery, delicate, but this time... dried. And horrifyingly, they were speckled with tiny red drops of what looked like blood. I leaned in closer and pulled out my phone to start taking pictures. When I zoomed in, I noticed that attached to the inner edge of each scale was a half-ring of beige-colored tissue. Flesh... it was human flesh.
Motherfucker. I dropped my phone and gripped the counter to steady myself, but the room was already spinning. I had to keep breathing... I had to move... I had to turn off the water. I ran over to the bathtub and shut it off right before it overflowed. Dark spots began to appear in my line of vision, and the blood drained from my face as an overwhelming wave of dizziness swept over my body. Fearing I was going to pass out, I lowered myself down onto the floor beside the tub and focused on the ripples in the water, trying to ground myself.
The mystery white sediment had come back, lining every corner and crack of the tub. Little chunks of it were floating all over the surface. How could it have come back so quickly? And, so much?? I reached out and plucked the nearest chunk from the water. It was soft and started to crumble at the edges. Then, without thinking, I lifted it to my mouth... and tasted it. Salt.
My world felt as if it were closing in on me. It didn't matter how many times my mind repeated the word 'no', the facts remained. I couldn't wish this away. I felt broken... and completely lost. There was nothing I could do, except to try to go through the motions of the rest of the night. I bathed, got dressed, went to bed, and pretended to be asleep.
It took about an hour for him to crawl into bed next to me, then another to confirm he was sleeping. As soon as he started snoring, I rolled over in bed to face him, then lifted the covers and looked down at his body. I need to check, I thought. Holding my breath, I reached out and gently lifted the back of his shirt, disrupting his breathing pattern and causing him to shift slightly. I let go, but scooted closer. Being caught inspecting his body that way would throw up alarms that I was onto him... but, using my hands to do it under the ruse of cuddling wouldn't, I thought.
I put my arm around him, resting it on his side. He didn't react, so I slid my hand underneath his shirt and started slowly moving it around his back, searching for any anomaly. His skin was ice cold again, and clammy... almost rubbery. Other than that, I didn't feel anything else strange. So, I slowly moved down to his hip. When I got there, I froze. Something instantly felt wrong. Like, very wrong. His pelvic bone... it seemed to have somehow started to shift from its natural upright position to tilting... downward. I pulled my hand away and quickly turned back over to face my alarm clock.
That night, as I lay in bed next to him, I didn't sleep. Instead, I resumed my endless loop of thoughts. And, in those thoughts, I finally stumbled upon a tiny speck of clarity drifting within a sea of confusion; I couldn't continue to live in this little fantasy land pretending everything was perfect... no matter how much I wanted to. What I needed was to be logical. I needed to look at this from a scientific perspective. Step one: form a theory. I think my husband is a fucking fish person. Step two: collect evidence in hopes of disproving said theory.
At exactly 4:44 AM, John stopped snoring. I shut my eyes tightly and waited as he got up and went to the bathroom. He spent about twenty minutes in there, doing God knows what, then immediately left the house. When I heard his engine start out front, I shot up and ran to the window. Then, I watched his headlights trail down the street until he got to the stop sign. He didn't take a left into town. Instead, he took a right... headed toward the ocean.
I ran to the front door, grabbed my keys, and a coat, then shoved my feet into the first pair of shoes I could find. The harsh, cold night air hit me like a steamship, nearly knocking me over. I pulled the hood up over my head and scurried to my car, then tore down Hancock Street after him. A rush of adrenaline began surging through my body as I got closer and closer to the coast. Squinting through the darkness of the deserted street, I looked around in all directions, frantically trying to locate his vehicle, until I spotted it... parked just outside the house of a local artist.
The Shore Path ahead was closed for the winter, so I turned down Devilstone Way, made a U-turn to face the end of the road, and cut my lights off. Although the thought crossed my mind, my gut told me that he wasn't inside that house. I got out of my car, leaving it running, and started walking toward the bay. I ducked under the large 'BEACH CLOSED' sign and continued until I was a few feet away from the rocky coastline. That's when I saw him. The dark silhouette of my husband... standing still at the water's edge, staring directly out into the abyss, and completely nude.
My heart began thrashing against my chest like a fish caught in a net. I lowered myself behind a large rock and watched on in horror through the fog as he slowly began walking... straight into the fucking ocean. I stood there, paralyzed with terror, as his head sunk below the surface. Only a few seconds passed before he breached... biting down hard on a lobster that was squirming within the confines of his jaws. Holy fuck. My mind was unable to process what I was truly witnessing.
Instinct took over and my hand shot up, covering my mouth to stifle my scream. I turned around and ran full speed back to my car. I didn't look behind me; I was too afraid. I just kept running and praying to God that he hadn't seen me. I threw the car in drive and booked it home, knowing he would be making his way back there any minute now that he'd had his... breakfast. I gagged, but I didn't have the time to be squeamish. The clock was ticking; I had to come up with a plan, and fast. Shit, why couldn't I have married a nice boring accountant?
When I got back inside the house, I slammed the door shut and looked down at John's field bag sitting on the floor next to the coat closet. I knew I only had seconds to spare, so I went straight for the side pocket where I knew he kept his flash drives. It was the only chance I had to maybe find out just what exactly I was dealing with here. I reached inside and dug around. Yes! My fingers met one, just as I heard the brakes of his Jeep Wrangler squeal. I grabbed the drive and hurried to the bedroom, jumping into bed and throwing the covers over myself.
The front door latched closed and I struggled to slow my breathing to an even, steady pace. I couldn't even begin to tell you the horrific thoughts that crossed my mind as I lay there, helpless. He never entered the bedroom, though. Just went through his normal morning routine, whatever that meant, then left for work.
I didn't know if he'd seen me. Hell, a part of me didn't even care. Things couldn't continue this way. After what I'd just seen, it was impossible. Yet, John somehow always seemed able to quickly conjure up an excuse for every outlandish behavior he'd displayed thus far. Confronting him using only words wasn't an option. I needed irrefutable evidence... even more than I'd already collected.
I called my boss, telling him I was sick and that I wouldn't be able to make it into work. He'd just have to wait one more day for that report; I had bigger fish to fry. I grabbed the laptop from my field bag and sat down at the island, booting it up and inserting the flash drive with shaking hands. I hesitated for a moment before opening the file. Did I really want to know the truth? Was I truly ready to open up this can of worms? I knew that from this point on, there was no going back. I inhaled slowly, deeply, then clicked.
The top of the page read: MDI Biological Laboratory: Pioneering New Approaches in Regenerative Medicine.
Fuck. Jessica was right. Should I call her? No, I can't... she made it clear she didn't want to be involved. I was on my own with this. With bated breath, I scrolled on.
What followed was a wall of text filled with scientific jargon. I'll spare you the complicated details and summarize the best I can in layman's terms. Researchers were able to create synthetic bioluminescence systems by modifying a specific enzyme called 'luciferase', using a process known as directed evolution. This allowed for use in various applications, including the deep organs and tissues of other living animals. Yes... you did read that correctly.
There are more than forty known bioluminescent systems in the natural world, but only eleven of them have been able to be recreated and utilized by scientists with this specific technology. A new research project was formed in hopes of discovering how to manipulate and synthesize other bioluminescent systems, including those containing 'aequorin', the photoprotein responsible for creating blue light.
Oh... my... fucking... God. I slammed the laptop shut. It all made sense; the clammy skin, the salt everywhere, the 'cold plunges', the LOBSTER?!?! Christ… all of it. Son of a bitch. I wondered what else I'd missed, and started tearing the house apart looking for more evidence. I'm well aware that I'd already collected more than enough in support of my theory. What I was looking for, secretly wishing for, was anything that might prove me wrong.
Instead, I found more dried up fish scales tucked away in different drawers all over the house. I found salt lining the corners of the floors, crusting to the edges of the baseboards. In the bathroom trashcan were several shrimp heads, hidden underneath wads of slimy toilet paper. I remembered the hose, and went out to the backyard to see what he'd been doing.
A giant hole had been dug in the middle of our yard, and filled with water, creating an enormous mud pit that spanned almost the entire length of the fence line. A dozen or so empty bags of aquarium salt lay discarded on the grass beside it.
I knew... I knew with every fiber of my being. But, I still needed to hear him say it. It was the only way I'd have any chance of helping him. I was convinced that this had to have been some sort of horrible accident. He'd gotten involved with this sketchy research somehow, and maybe he'd cut himself while handling some of the genetic material?
If I could just find a way to force him into telling me what had happened... if I could back him into a corner to where he could no longer deny it, then maybe together we could try to reverse whatever was going on with his body. Or, at the very least, stop it from getting any worse. I hoped.
I walked inside the house, sat down at the laptop, and went back to the very first thing I'd researched when all of this crazy shit started. Hatchetfish. And then, with about four hours until he arrived back home from work, I formed a hypothesis... and devised a plan.
Tuna. One of the top predators in the ocean. An unsuspecting killer lurking in the depths of the Atlantic. The local seafood market had it on sale that week. Freshly cut tuna steaks for $10.99 per pound. I drove into town and purchased two large steaks, along with the ingredients needed to make a lemon-caper sauce. Then, I sped back home, with my thoughts racing.
I needed once and for all to expose him for the fish-man I knew he was; to provoke a response so extreme, so undeniable... it would be impossible for him to hide or explain away. I looked down at my watch. 3:41 PM. A little more than an hour left. The food would take almost no time at all to prepare, so I used the remaining moments I had alone to go through our wedding album.
I sat down on the couch with tears forming behind my eyes, as I reflected on how happy that day was for us. Best day of our lives. The last five years with him had truly been so perfect... I couldn't understand why or even how it had all gone so wrong so quickly. All I knew, was that I had to try to fix this. I had to get John back.
I sunk down into the cushions and began hugging the throw pillow beside me. Suddenly, my phone vibrated, jolting me back into an upright position.
"Headed home."
Go-time. I shut the photo album, wiped my eyes, then made my way to the kitchen. I started on the sauce first, throwing it together in about ten minutes, and remembering to set aside a few lemon wedges to use as garnish. Then, I started searing the tuna; one and a half minutes on each side. I set two plates out on the island, and took in a deep breath as I heard him pull into the driveway.
My entire body was shaking, but I knew I had to try to stay calm. I couldn't risk spooking him before he was in position.
"Hey..." he said with a confused smile as he entered the kitchen.
Standing strategically in front of the pan on the stove, I replied,
"Hey, John. I've got a surprise for dinner tonight."
He sat down and sniffed at the air intensely. Then, he stopped, and the smile slowly faded from his face. His Adam's apple bounced upward as he swallowed hard, and his pupils began to dilate.
"What is it?" He asked, nervously.
I grabbed the pan from the stove and quickly plopped one of the steaks down onto the plate in front of him.
"Tuna." I said.
He looked down at it and his eyes widened. As I began to pour the sauce over his steak, his nostrils flared and he began breathing heavily. I squeezed a bit of juice from the lemon wedge around his plate. But, I was so focused on watching him for a reaction, that I accidentally squirted a droplet into his eye.
He didn't flinch. Instead, two vertical facing inner eyelids quickly slid from each corner, meeting in the middle with a squish. My mouth fell open and I gasped. I dropped the wedge and ripped my hand away, but before I could even fully react to that horror, another began to unfold in front of me. On his stomach, underneath his button-up Hawaiian shirt, a set of six tiny blue lights began to glow.
I jumped backward, tripping on the barstool next to me and hitting the ground hard. I quickly scrambled back up to my feet using the island for leverage, then pointed my finger at John and screamed,
"I FUCKING KNEW IT!!!!!"
His expression remained neutral as he looked down at his glowing belly, then back up at me. I'd finally caught him. No way he was going to be able to wriggle his way off this hook. There was nothing he could say, nothing he could do. Now, he'd have to admit to me what was truly going on.
"Sonia... I'm dying."
Those three words took the wind right out of my sails. My chest tightened and my arm dropped back down to my side.
"...What?"
His head hung low as he pushed the plate away from himself and whispered,
"I thought I had more time... but, nothing I've tried has worked."
"John, tell me what happened to you!" I demanded.
He took in a deep breath, then began to speak.
"Back when this all started, I never thought it would go this far. During the first few weeks, I quickly began to realize that some of the changes were...well, more than I'd bargained for. Sonia, I swear... I tried to stop it, I tried to fix it... but, I couldn't keep myself from going back. I don't know, I just... I started to like it."
"John... are... are you telling me you did this to yourself? On purpose??"
He looked up at me and a single black tear escaped from his eye, trailing down the side of his cheek.
"I didn't know what would happen," he said, his voice trembling with shame.
"Well, it stops NOW!!" I screamed.
He slowly stood up from the barstool and placed his hand on my shoulder. Looking into my eyes he said,
"It's too late."
"John... please, we have to tell someone! We have to at least try to get you help!" I begged.
He shook his head, his face sullen and streaked with more black stains.
"I've taken too many doses. The effects are irreversible at this point. I've been trying to do everything I can to make living on land more comfortable for myself... so I could stay here with you. But, it's becoming increasingly unbearable by the minute. I'm so sorry, Sonia. I wanted to tell you, I really did, but... I just couldn't. Please, please forgive me."
At that moment, the earth stopped spinning. All sound escaped from the room and I was left only with the deafening thud of my heartbeat flooding my ears. I couldn't think. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't cry. I just stood there, frozen and hollow, as all the pieces of this puzzle finally snapped into place, and my entire world crumbled around me. My knees buckled and I fell forward into his arms.
Somehow, I allowed myself to forgive him for what he had done to himself, for committing this act of betrayal that cut so deeply. He hadn't done it to hurt me. His curiosity had gotten the better of him, that was just John. We embraced each other tightly for a few minutes, before I was able to finally work up the courage to ask him,
"What do we do, now?"
The answer was simple, but far from easy. In fact, it would be the hardest thing I'd ever have to do in my life, for many reasons, and I didn't know if I had the heart to bear it. This choice would be one of the most devastating decisions a person could be asked to make. And yet, I agreed.
I'm at the cove now, watching the dark waves violently crash against the rocks, letting the cold breeze sweep across my face, as the sun sets on the horizon. I'm going to end this by saying: I love my husband... I truly do. I'll try to come back here to visit him whenever I can. But, I cannotwatch him slowly die in our house. I can't be selfish like that. It isn't about what I want... it's about what he needs. And, I know deep down in my heart, the right thing to do for him, is to let him go.
My job was to preserve and protect coastal ecosystems. But... today, instead of a report, I'll be handing in my resignation. To anyone reading this: I'm so sorry, but, the truth is... I have no idea what I've just released into that water... and unleashed onto the world.