My husband is hiding something from me; I'm starting to think I don't want to know what it is.

My husband and I have only lived in this house for a short time, but we've already lived here longer than I lived in any one place as a child. Both of my parents are drunks, and neither one of them ever had a steady job, so I think I was about twelve before I figured out that the reason we moved around so much was because we couldn't pay the rent. After that, I shut down a little bit. I was constantly moving, constantly changing schools, and I never got to stay in one place long enough to make friends. I've never been very outgoing, either; I've always liked keeping people at arms length. But when I was twelve, I decided that I would be better off on my own. Now, I know that thinking like that is a little naive; obviously, a child can't just take care of themselves. But living in the way I was, constantly struggling and barely having a roof over my head, made me feel like I was better off on my own than I was with my parents. So I did everything I could to make my life better. I took advanced classes, got good grades, and I got a part-time job when I was old enough. I kept doing that through high school, too, in the hopes that I'd be able to leave my parents behind. And I did. I got a full scholarship to a state college, and I was able to leave my parents. I didn't desert them, not exactly. I still looked after them, but I looked after myself more. I still had good grades, and I still had a job. I didn't have to work quite as much, because I had a scholarship, but I still put myself through college in a lot of ways. And then I graduated. I got a good job, a good man, and we got married. And we bought a house, something I'd always wanted. As a kid, I was always jealous of those with happy homes. Happy parents, good food, warm beds, and a place to call their own. I'm sure I wasn't the only one who felt like I did; I'm sure there were plenty of other kids in the same situation as me, but I never found any of them. But I had finally gotten what I'd always wanted, and I was happy. I was so happy. But that was before I started hearing the noises. At first, when I first moved in, I didn't notice anything out of the ordinary. Everything was quiet, just like I had been as a kid. I never wanted to draw attention to myself. I never wanted to do anything to make my parents angry, because I knew I'd be punished if I did. So I always kept quiet, stayed out of the way, and was generally easy to ignore. But something in my new house wasn't like that. Something was very loud, very noisy, and it would not shut up. It was a little different every night, but it sounded like furniture moving around. I'd hear thuds, squeaks, and groans. At first, my husband and I thought that it was just the house settling, but then we started hearing footsteps. Always at night, always overhead. And we lived in a one-story house, so there was no overhead. I confronted my husband about it. I knew we had to be hearing it, because we were going crazy. We couldn't sleep, and we had work in the morning. We both needed to be well-rested for work; my husband works as a high school principal, and I work as a librarian. If we're tired, we can't do our jobs right. "I think we should call someone about the house," I said; I was in the tub. I had been having a hard time relaxing, and baths were one of the few ways I could calm myself down long enough to sleep. "What did you mean?" "The noises. I think the house is unstable in some way. Maybe the foundation is messed up, or maybe the beams are decaying. I don't know, but we need someone to take a look at it." "I think you're being dramatic. I haven't heard anything." I scowled at the wall, where I knew he was standing. "Don't lie to me. You know I've been having a hard time lately. Don't try to make me think I'm crazy." The bathroom fell silent. I knew he was still there, but he wasn't saying anything. I can't describe how I knew. A wife just knows these things about her husband, I guess. "You're not crazy," he said finally. "I know that. And I know you're not hearing things. But I don't want to have anyone over right now. We just moved in, and I don't want strangers in here. We'll give it a couple of weeks, and if we're still hearing the noises, we'll call someone." I was a little annoyed that he was taking charge, but I decided to let it go. A couple of weeks wouldn't kill me, after all; I'd been dealing with this since I was five, so I think I could handle two more weeks. Two weeks went by, and the noises were still there. In fact, they'd gotten worse. I was starting to hear it sometimes in the afternoon, and once I even heard it in the morning. And it was loud, and violent. It sounded like someone was destroying the place upstairs. I asked my husband what he thought it was, but he insisted that he hadn't heard anything. He was starting to make me really angry, because I knew he was lying, but there was nothing I could do about it. Two weeks was up, so I decided to call someone. I was going to call a contractor, someone who could look into the house and see if something needed to be fixed. But as I was looking for one, I saw an advertisement for paranormal investigators in the area. And I laughed. Ghost hunters. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized it made sense. I'd never lived in a house before that was so old. The house we'd purchased was built in the 1930s, and it was the only house I'd ever lived in that was older than I was. If any house was going to be haunted, it would be this one. So I gave them a call. I was going to do it when my husband wasn't around, but I decided that I didn't have to hide anything from him. If he was going to lie to me about the house, I could do the same to him. So I called from the living room, where he could hear me. "Hello, this is Judy at East Tennessee Ghost Hunters. What can I help you with today?" "I think my house is haunted," I said, as simply as I could. "Oh. Well, we can help you with that. We'll send someone over, and they'll look into your paranormal activity." "Okay, that sounds good." "Good! We'll send someone over, like I said, and-" "Wait," I said. "How long will that take?" "Not very long. We'll have someone in your neighborhood in about twenty minutes." "Okay, thank you." "You're welcome. Have a good day." I hung up the phone, and looked at my husband. He was staring at me, a look of shock on his face. "You shouldn't have done that," he said. "Who is it?" I asked. My voice was shaking. "Who you called. Who it is you invited into our house." "I don't think it's any of your business," I said, trying to sound brave. "But I think it's probably a ghost hunter." "I know," he said. "But you shouldn't have called them. You should have listened to me." "Listened to you?" I laughed, and his expression got darker. I knew I should have stopped, but I couldn't. "You said this house was fine. You said nothing was wrong with it. But it's not fine, is it? Something's wrong with it, and you know it. You just won't tell me what it is." "No, nothing is wrong. But I'm telling you, you should not have called those people. You don't know what you're doing." "I know exactly what I'm doing!" I screamed, and I stood up. "I'm getting to the bottom of this, and I won't let you stop me!" My husband turned and walked away. I didn't see him after that, and I was glad. I didn't want to see him, didn't want to talk to him, and I had more important things on my mind than fighting with him. Twenty minutes passed, and the doorbell rang. I answered it, and I saw that it was two men standing on my front porch. They were dressed in black, with equipment strapped to their waists, and they looked like they were ready for anything. One of them stepped forward. "Hi, is your name Prudence?" "Prue. Yes, that's me." "Okay, Prue, my name is Zach, and this is Seth. We're from East Tennessee Ghost Hunters, and we've come to help you figure out what's happening in your house." "Okay," I said. I stepped aside, and gestured for them to come in. And they did. They stepped inside, and they got to work. Zach started setting up equipment, while Seth started asking me questions. "What makes you think that your house is haunted?" "I've been hearing

My husband is hiding something from me; I'm starting to think I don't want to know what it is.

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