My wife has been peeking at me from around corners and behind furniture. It's gone from weird to terrifying

I was in the kitchen making a sandwich when I saw her peeking at me from behind the stand alone fridge. She darted out of view the moment I realized what she was doing, and when I tried to talk to her she didn’t reply.<br><br>It was the first time I’d caught her doing it, but I’d felt her eyes on me for a couple days already. I tried acting normal, thinking she’d eventually stop, and then she did. <br><br>A few more days went by and she was back to doing it. At first it was just the fridge, but then it was the table and various chairs – anywhere she could hide and keep an eye on me. <br><br>I’d tried to ignore it for a while and it hadn’t worked. She’d been doing this for so long now I was starting to get fed up. She’d lost her mother to an accident just a few months before. I’d figured the behavior would get better when she got professional help, but she’d refused. I decided the best course of action was to confront her.<br><br>I walked up to where she was peeking from behind the dining room table, squatted down and said, “Hey, what are you doing?” She didn’t answer. I reached around and gently grabbed her wrist so she’d have to face me.<br><br>“Hey, what is this?” I asked and tugged on her arm. She didn’t move, so I pulled harder. She moved slowly, her eyes not leaving the floor. I half expected her to start crying, but she didn’t.<br><br>I let go of her wrist and got up from the squat. She stood up and started moving backwards. She bumped into a chair and, in a panic, she jumped backward and fell into the chair. She landed on the back of her shoulders, and the chair tipped backward with her in it. She started flailing like a turtle. I tried to help her up – not laughing, but on the inside.<br><br>“What the hell are you doing? Why are you peeking at me all the time?”<br><br>She got back to her feet and took off in a full sprint toward the stairs. I tried following her, but she was running like she was being chased, so I gave up and waited in the dining room for her to come back down.<br><br>I had to go pick up some groceries, so I left for about thirty minutes and when I came back she was gone. I looked all over the house – all her usual hide-and-peeks were empty. <br><br>I went upstairs to check the bedroom. I called out for her and she didn’t answer. I tried the bathroom next, and that’s where I found her. She was peeking at me from behind the bathtub. I thought it was funny at first, and then it wasn’t.<br><br>She was doing this peeking thing more than ever before. Not only that, it was getting more and more extreme. I decided I had to do something about it. My initial thought was to scare her. Scare her so bad she would never do it again. <br><br>I hid in the back of her closet, in the clothes. She walked in ten minutes or so later, and she peeked from behind the dresser. I stood up, and screamed at the top of my lungs. My wife let out a deafening shriek, and I got a chill. She darted out of the room and I went after her, still screaming.<br><br>I followed her all around the house, and she never stopped peeking. Now she was peeking and running. This was the most extreme case of her doing it to date, and it was starting to freak me out a little bit. I wasn’t sure if I should keep trying to scare her, I didn’t want to end up really hurting her feelings.<br><br>I stopped chasing her, and she eventually stopped running. I heard her peeking at me from the living room just before I fell asleep.<br><br>I woke up in the middle of the night and I heard her again – this time she was in the closet. I didn’t get out of bed. I just kept listening. She was in the room.<br><br>I felt her looking at me from the foot of the bed. She didn’t scream when I got out of bed and moved toward her. She just drifted slowly backward in my direction. I went slowly and carefully, not wanting to startle her.<br><br>She drifted slowly into the bathroom. I didn’t follow her in. I closed the door so she’d have some privacy and went back to bed.<br><br>When I woke up it was afternoon. I looked around and couldn’t find her. I found a note on the kitchen table:<br><br>&#x200B;<br><br>“I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s happening. There’s something in the house and I don’t know what it is. I think it looks like you. It’s been getting closer and closer to me. Do not confront it. I think it will hurt us if we do. I’m hiding. If you see it, tell it I am hiding and I will not come out until it’s gone.” –Your Wife<br><br>I crumpled up the note and threw it on the ground. <br><br>She was peeking at me from the fridge when I went back into the kitchen. She saw me looking at her and drifted backward until she was out of my view. I tried to follow her, but I couldn’t – she was moving too slowly. I think on some level she wanted me to follow her.<br><br>I moved methodically from room to room, following her as she continued to slowly move throughout the house. <br><br>She’d stop every once and awhile and get just out of view. I’d move slowly and carefully and have to slowly pull my head around walls and slowly pull my torso around walls and slowly pull the rest of my body around walls – all the while she’d barely have half her head peeking at me.<br><br>I was getting to the point of just wanting to grab her and shake her, but I knew she was just scared and wasn’t trying to be annoying. I slowed myself down and kept going. I kept following her and eventually she had led me back to our bedroom.<br><br>She had left a note on the bed:<br><br>“I think it’s gone. I’m hiding. –Your Wife”<br><br>I stood there in silence and started to feel a little creeped out – in the way you feel when you’re home alone and you get that feeling that someone else might be there – someone that isn’t supposed to be – and you’re trying to convince yourself you’re being paranoid, and then you hear a baseless noise, and you stop trying to convince yourself you’re being paranoid. <br><br>I wasn’t alone. I didn’t have to check the house to be certain. My wife wasn’t in the house though, and whoever else was, wasn’t her.<br><br>I started to move throughout the house – the same way my wife had before – except now I was the one doing the peeking. Sometimes it’s better to fight back. Sometimes it’s better to walk away. Sometimes it’s better to peek.<br><br>I’ve been peeking at it for almost two days and I think it knows I’m here now. <br><br>It’s peeking back.