I was once an ordinary man. My life was mundane and uneventful, and honestly, I loved it being that way. Parties and socializing terrified me. I’ve always been afraid to be in a large group of people, and I am awkward to the point of it being painful. What I mean is that I become overstimulated, which births a panic attack, and eventually, I vomit whatever I’ve eaten at said event, which is rather embarrassing.
Being alone suited me just fine.
Believe it or not, I’ve been able to maintain relationships with the opposite sex. I’ve had several serious girlfriends, but none lasted six months. Eventually, they tire of staying home with me and watching movies or TV shows. They will want to hang out with their friends and show me off to them like some prized show dog, and then their friends are weirded out at how I stand around, barely speaking. The woman will find some way to call it quits and move on to someone more suited to their social needs.
That is, until I met Emma.
Emma and I have been together for seven years now and married for five of them. We’ve created a relationship that neither of us thought achievable, but both sought after in our dreams. She is like me in that she hates socializing, loves watching horror movies and TV shows, and has no desire to be anywhere without me.
It’s wonderful.
One night, I was awakened from sleep by the sudden horror of suffocation. I bolted upright in bed, clutching at my throat.
Something was stuck in my throat.
And it was crawling.
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