The Good Husband

by Lucian Bane

  Ben started pacing, scared of his own thoughts. “I feel like…I’m not done,” he whispered. “I want to keep…doing it,” he grit out, sucking in air at the terror of that.

  “Dad, do you think that…some of these women are…are missing, and maybe the head is having remorse and…”

  Bile filled his mouth as he eyed his son. “This man doesn’t feel remorse, Charlie. He never wanted to stop. It’s like a snake that’s had its head chopped off, it just keeps trying to bite whatever you put near its mouth. I’ve given it another life,” Ben said, back to needing to vomit. He looked at Cheryl. “How did this man die again?”

  “He was…hit by a car, I think. His lungs, something to do with his lungs. I can double check,” Cheryl said as Ben hurried to the kitchen to his laptop.

  “Everything is so clear,” Ben said. “The women, their faces.”

  “What are you looking for?” Charlie asked, joining him at the island.

  “Cold case files, missing people. I need to see if I recognize any of these women.”

  “And…and then what?” Cheryl asked.

  “I don’t know. I just need to know if this is real. And if it is, I need to really consider having that sick part of this head cut out.” Ben smacked his palm rapidly against his skull. “I feel like I’m carrying an alien on my shoulders. I want to cut it off and can’t.”

  “You mean like…that alien limb mental disorder?” Cheryl whispered.

  “Yes. And knowing that this isn’t my head doesn’t help with the symptom, it makes it worse. My mind is everywhere with this,” he said, pulling his hands off the keys for a moment, fisting them to still the tremble.

  “What do you mean?” she asked, sounding worried.

  He shook his head a little, not looking at her. “I told you I wouldn’t lie to you,” he warned. “Either of you. But… ever since these dreams started, other things are happening. Like it turned on a switch in my brain.”

  “Are you experiencing some of those…other mental disorder symptoms?” she asked, breathless.

  “I wish,” he said. “Then I would feel somewhat normal. But all the symptoms I’m having are nowhere in the list.”

  “Oh Ben,” she whispered in dread. “Like what?”

  Ben took a shaky breath, fighting the sudden spike of adrenalin in his body. “Like…knowing there’s somebody inside me,” he said quietly. “Watching me. Studying me. Learning me.” Even though he knew whatever it was would be able to hear him, he whispered anyway. “And it’s… smart,” he added.

  “What do you mean?” she whispered.

  “I mean it’s calculating, planning. Figuring things out.”

  She sat slowly on the seat next to him. “What is it figuring out?”

  “I don’t know,” he hated to admit.

  “That’s kind of like that imposter syndrome,” Charlie said as though realizing. “Only you think you’re the imposter instead of somebody else.”

  Ben realized he was right, but it didn’t make him feel better.

  “What else is going on?” Cheryl asked.

  He didn’t like saying the things he thought out loud. Part of him felt like it wanted him to, like if he did it would unlock yet another door. Another part said it didn’t want him to say it and that’s why he had that fear. “I think…crazy things like…my head is loose. And that people can smell it.”

  “Smell it?” she whispered.

  “I can smell my head. It has this…weird smell.”

  “Is it a bad smell?”

  He thought about it, feeling sick. “I feel like…it’s at the incision. The smell.” He eyed her. “Can you smell it? I sometimes think it’s infected. But from the inside.”

  She leaned and smelled, as did Charlie. “I don’t smell anything strange,” she said.

  “Me either,” Charlie agreed.

  Ben swiped at the sudden crawling sensation on his right arm. “It’s like he’s fucking with me from the inside. Doing shit just to show me he can. And then there’s the questions. They come and challenge everything as if they are working with that thing, to throw me off. It’s like…it wants me to go crazy. And I’ve tried reasoning with it,” he said, staring at her. “Then I realize I’m reasoning with another person or thing in my head and think, isn’t that schizophrenia?”

  “It sounds like it,” Charlie agreed. “We need to know what it wants. That’s what you’re supposed to do, I think.” He looked at his mom then back at him. “I’ve read up on all of it to prepare. It said you’re supposed to try and understand what the personality wants so you can understand why it’s there. That’s supposed to resolve whatever’s wrong, or something.”

  Ben stared at him, wondering if he’d been listening to anything he’d said. “I know what it wants, Charlie. It wants to mutilate. There is no doubt in my mind whatsoever on that.”

  “Now wait a minute,” his wife implored, touching his arm. “This may not be a disorder at all, I mean, this could just be a memory problem. You could be remembering things this head has done or experienced in some way. And that’s different than schizophrenia. It’s still screwed up but in a different way.”

  That sent Ben back to his keyboard. “That’s why I need to know how real this is. If this guy was just into perverted porn, that’s a whole lot different. I can work with that.”

  “Right,” Cheryl said, nodding in relief. “Charlie, get your laptop. I’ll get my phone. Three heads are better than one.”

  More like four, Ben thought as a familiar hot sensation rode his spine. “I’m going to start with cold case files,” Ben said. “I just need to figure out where to start.”

  “Can you tell where you are in the dreams?” Charlie asked. “Try to remember something that could maybe be checked. A place of business, any kind of landmarks.”

  He froze, thinking about that. “In one dream… I buried somebody.” He searched his brain for details, closing his eyes. The second he did, it was like entering the dream without being asleep, and he flew off his chair with wide eyes.

  “What’s wrong!” Cheryl shot out, staring at him.

  “Christ,” he whispered, shaking. “I…I closed my eyes and was there, just there, like I was in the dream.” He covered his face with trembling hands. “I can’t take it if I start hallucinating this stuff wide awake!”

  “What did you see?” Charlie pushed.

  “It…there was a train track nearby. I heard a train.” Ben dared to close his eyes, and again he was there. He looked around, feeling his head turning as he did. “I hear water too. Running.” He fought his panic as he glanced down, avoiding the body wrapped in some kind of trash bag while searching for details that would help. “I see an old barn behind me in the distance. And cows, I think. Or sheep. It’s dark.”

  “I’ll start looking up the railways and see where tracks pass a water source with farmland, and start narrowing down locations,” Charlie said, already typing.

  “Then we can compare the missing people around those areas?” Cheryl wondered.

  Ben could only nod as he made his way to the stool, scared to be in his own body now.

  Fifteen minutes later, Charlie turned his computer. “Look at this. Look familiar?”

  Ben looked at the image on the page. “No.”

  “Wait, I have several.” He clicked the next one.

  “No.”

  He clicked on another.

  “No.”

  Another.

  Ben shook his head, studying the picture. “No.”

  He clicked again and Ben leapt up. “I know that place.” He studied it closer.

  “That’s in Nebraska,” Charlie said. “A town called Geneva.”

  “That’s it,” Ben nodded, sure now. “I know that town. How do I know it, where is he from again?”

  “Havana Arkansas,” Cheryl remembered. “Maybe he buried victims in other states.”

  Ben felt like that was exactly it. He took a chance and closed his eyes, seeing nothing but the backs o
f his eyelids. He opened them, gasping for oxygen.

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” Ben whispered, shaken. “I saw nothing that time.” Maybe it only happened sometimes. He prayed, anyway.

  “Dad, look,” Charlie said, turning the computer to him.

  Ben gave a half yell at the face of the woman in that trash bag. “That’s her,” he whispered.

  “It says she went missing in Washington state though. But she’s from that town.”

  What? What did that mean? The second he wondered it, he knew what it meant. “He likes burying them in their hometown.”

  “Did…you just figure that out?” Cheryl asked.

  He nodded barely. “It just appeared in my head when I wondered it.”

  “Can you… wonder why?” Charlie asked.

  Ben did but all he got was a disgusting hard on. He got out of his chair, turning away from them, wanting to cut his own dick off now. He hadn’t touched Cheryl since he saw the marks he’d put on her, and God, his hunger to do it all again was like a raging fire inside him. He’d thought countless times of ways he could do it safely. He felt like he needed to come up with something, because it wasn’t fair to her, he was too fucked up to even touch her. And she needed it as much as he did, even though she was terrified. She couldn’t hide it from his sick mind, it saw what she wanted and needed, and it wanted to exploit it.

  Maybe he could be tied down. The second he thought it, he was hot and hungry for it then furiously opposed. He wondered over the contradiction, feeling like it was a clue. Another puzzle piece in his blooming insanity.

  “Ben?” Cheryl gently called, making him remember what the hell he was doing.

  “Sorry,” he said, turning.

  “Are you…getting more information?” she asked.

  He made his way back to the stool, knowing before he even sat. “We need to find out if she’s buried there.”

  “How?” Charlie asked.

  “What if we call in…a tip?” Cheryl wondered. “The local authorities could go see.”

  Ben considered that, feeling like it was a bad idea but not knowing why yet. There was something…niggling. “I think I need to dig it up. I don’t know why. I just…feel like there’s something there, something I need to find.”

  “We’re together on this,” she reminded him.

  “But…what will you do if you find it?” Charlie wondered. “Then what?”

  Ben wasn’t sure. “Maybe by then I’ll know.”

  “How do we get home if you’re supposed to stay here for six months?” Charlie wondered then.

  Ben put his head in his hands, remembering not to close his eyes. “I’m supposed to, but nothing says I have to.”

  “Are you sure?” Cheryl wondered.

  “What are they going to do, imprison me?”

  “I mean…didn’t we sign stuff? Maybe it says we agreed or something.”

  “I’ll find out,” Ben said.

  “It’s not like they’ll take the head back,” Charlie said.

  Ben paused and eyed him as the idea of that tickled through him like a creepy spider, bringing a shiver.

  “Are you cold?” Cheryl asked, coming to him and feeling his forehead. “No, you’re hot. Do you feel okay?”

  He wondered what that meant and why she asked. “Do I not look okay?” His heart started racing at feeling a tingle along his incision. He touched it, realizing it was becoming a habit to feel along the line, measuring the thickness to make sure it wasn’t growing. He’d been feeling more and more that something was trying to undo his head from the inside. He wanted to say the words so bad to them, and yet couldn’t bring himself to.

  “So, if the contract says you can’t leave, then what?” Charlie wondered.

  “We’ll have to find a reason to break it,” Ben said, ready to be alone with his thoughts.

  “What about Alice?” Cheryl asked.

  Ben realized she was asking Charlie and looked to see him considering.

  “She wants to come to America with me.”

  “Oh?” Cheryl wondered while Ben thought that was a bad idea.

  “You haven’t told her anything, have you?” Ben asked, his pulse shooting up.

  He shook his head. “No.”

  “Keep it that way,” Ben ordered. “And I doubt Mr. Wong will be up for allowing his daughter to come to America with us when I’m breaking his contract.”

  “If you’re breaking it,” Cheryl said.

  “I’ll run it by Alice and talk about what we planned,” Charlie said. “Not about us leaving early, just…when we’re scheduled to. We were going to be talking to our parents eventually about it.”

  Ben got up to pace while rubbing the back of his neck, feeling his incision with his fingers as he did.

  “I can hint to Yan about maybe leaving early…”

  “No,” Ben said. “I’ll just ask Dr. Wong and see what he says.”

  “What will you say is the reason?” she wondered.

  Ben walked over to the wall of glass, thinking about that. “I can call my mother. We only told family I was having surgery.”

  “We haven’t even given them an update,” Cheryl realized. “The success I mean.”

  “Would make sense that we’d give them news of some kind, let them know I’m alive at least,” Ben agreed.

  “You could call Uncle Leroy,” Cheryl said. “Give him the update to pass on and check on Grandpa and Grandma at the same time.”

  “I’ll tell Uncle Leroy that I need a reason to get home. And that I can’t talk about it till I see him in person.”

  “Will you tell him? The reason, I mean?” Cheryl wondered.

  He eyed her, briefly. “Maybe. If I tell anybody, Uncle Leroy is the only one I would. If something goes wrong, he can take care of himself and my family, should it come to that.”

  “Oh Ben,” Cheryl whispered, upset.

  “Oh Ben, nothing,” he muttered. “I’m not taking chances, Cheryl. If you saw what I see in my head, you’d want a lot more than Uncle Leroy to know.” He eyed Charlie next. “The second we get home, I want you to find out what we need to get firearms. I don’t know what will happen with me, and I want you prepared to do whatever it takes to protect yourself and your mother, you understand me?”

  Charlie nodded, bravely holding Ben’s gaze, but he caught the slight shake in his mouth before he lowered his head. “Uncle Leroy could help with that. He’s always trying to buy me guns.”

  “Charlie, can you go see Alice?” Ben asked. “I need to talk to your mother about some things in private.”

  “Sure,” he said, shutting his laptop. “I’ll see how she feels about visiting America.”

  “Just…”

  “I know, I won’t say a word about the rest.”

  Ben nodded, his pulse steadily rising with his need. He went to the fridge and dug around in it as Charlie left out the door.

  The Spiral

  “What’s going on?” Cheryl wondered behind him.

  What’s going on. He shut the fridge and walked away from her when a violent urge to hurt something made his muscles twitch. “I need you,” he warned, not sure how to tell her.

  “Okay,” she said softly. “Tell me how I can help. What do you need?”

  He paced with his hands behind his head. “I need to…” He held his jaw tight when heat hammered his balls, because they knew what was coming. “I need to fuck you without killing you,” he blasted out when the island stood between them.

  “Okay,” she finally said.

  The sound of her arousal and fear tore through him, making him pace and watch her as lust filled him.

  “You can…you can control it,” she said or prayed, he couldn’t be sure, but he hoped the latter.

  “I have to control it. Because I have to fuck you, and I can’t hurt you.”

  “You’re…you’re stronger than before,” she said. It was meant as encouragement, but he heard the fear. He was stronger than before, but maybe not
in a good way.

  “How do you…what do you want…”

  “I should be tied up for this,” he thought. “I don’t trust myself. You shouldn’t trust me.”

  “Okay,” she said, nodding. “Do you…want me to find something to tie you with?” she wondered, scared but willing.

  “Yes,” he heard himself say while his mind saw her tied up and naked instead.

  “I’ll…go see what I can find.”

  Ben wandered around the kitchen, terrified and hungry. Soon his appetite overtook his fear and he made his way to the bedroom. He angled his head at the bathroom, listening as he approached.

  Cheryl jumped when he entered, clutching a curling iron in both hands next to the vanity. “I…was thinking I could use the…wire part,” she barely managed with a shaky voice.

  He was stalking the floor before her, eyeing the curling iron. “I want to fuck your cunt with it.” He grabbed his cock and strangled it. “While it’s on high.” She gave a gasp and he shook his head. “I won’t do it,” he swore to her, winded. “But I need you to know what’s in my head. You need to understand what kind of monster we’re dealing with, Cheryl,” he said, undoing his jeans.

  She nodded a lot, swallowing, watching his hands.

  “I need to hammer your soft pussy,” he shuddered pushing the denim down. “Show me what you’re wearing under that dress. You’re such a fucking tease. I know your wicked cunt is dripping.”

  “Ben,” she whispered, breathless.

  He kicked his clothes aside. “How are your injuries?”

  “B-better.”

  “Good,” he said, removing his shirt next.

  “What about…tying you up?” she wondered with a shaky voice.

  “Undress.”

  She stared at him while she removed her skirt.

  He stood with his legs open, cupping his balls and stroking his cock while he watched. “Leave those fucking panties on,” he whispered. “Black panties hugging your wicked, wet pussy.” His eyes rose to her shaking fingers on the blouse buttons. “I won’t hurt you,” he swore out loud, needing her to hear it, needing to say it. “I won’t do it. I won’t let myself.”