My girlfriend talks in her sleep. She's been saying the most horrible things recently...

I’m infatuated with her. Utterly infatuated. And it wasn’t at a healthy level. It was an obsession – the kind that keeps you up all night thinking about the person. I once read that the brain functions the same way for obsessives as it does for addicts. That it’s not a function of love, but rather Hijacking. The moment I met her, I was hooked. She ruled my thoughts. I could never get enough of her. But it’s better now. Because I know that she’s not the love of my life – she’s the end of it. We met at work. We both work as nurses at our local hospital. It was in the middle of the COVID crisis and I was still reeling from another relationship that had just ended. It was a rocky relationship from the start. We were together for three years. The first year was great. the second “meh” – the third, a war zone. We separated, then I got this job at the hospital. It was an emotionally dead time for me. My parents had passed away a year prior – my father from a heart attack and my mother from brain cancer. My brother and I would call each other every night to check in. He lives in New York. I’m in California. That’s as far from him as I could get and still have a career. I chose nursing because I wanted to help others – but also because I felt I owed it to my parents. This world is a terrible place – if you can make it a little bit brighter, you should. That’s why I chose this profession. That’s why I chose to help during the pandemic. It was there that I met her. She’s beautiful. I just can’t stress that enough. Long red hair – the color of fire. Green eyes. Pale skin, like the palest most beautiful marble. High cheek bones. Full lips that cracked into the brightest, most adorable smile. I was working as a nurse in one of the COVID wards when I met her. I saw her around for a little while – she was training as a nurse, but wasn’t in this particular ward. I saw her around at the beginning of the pandemic. I don’t know if they moved her to our ward because the pandemic was getting worse, or if it was just a coincidence. All I know is that I was infatuated from the moment I met her. We would have coffee together in the morning. Talk about medical situations. Go over difficult patients. She was clearly smitten with me as well. I could tell. After work, we would go to my apartment and talk. We’d talk about our dreams. We’d talk about the type of lives we wanted to live. The pandemic had changed us – both of us. We didn’t want to wait. We didn’t have time. And still… I wanted to wait. I felt like I needed to prove I was good enough. I needed to make her understand that I would never leave – and I did, by any means necessary. One night, we were sitting on my couch. We hadn’t yet “consummated” our relationship. I was waiting for her to make a move – but she hadn’t. I didn’t want to take advantage. She was still in her first year as a nurse. She was young. I didn’t want to rush into anything – especially if she didn’t want to. So we sat on my couch and talked. It was a tough time. 500 or 600 people were dying a day. New York was a war zone – people were having mental breakdowns left and right. I held her hand – she started to cry, and I comforted her. I held her until she fell asleep – it was raining that night. The sound of the rain on the window was like a lullaby. I didn’t move. I just held her until she fell dead asleep. The next morning, we went to breakfast. She didn’t remember a thing. She didn’t remember me holding her – she didn’t remember crying. That was the first night she stayed with me – and it became a habit after that. We would go out to breakfast – have coffee – go over patient notes – go to work – then come home and do it all over again. She was the love of my life – or so I thought. About two months ago – she started talking in her sleep. She’d say the most horrible things. The first time, she called me a disgusting pig. The second, she threatened to gut me like a fish. The third time – she said she wanted to peel the flesh from my face. Each night – it was something different, something worse. At first I thought it was night terrors. But then I discovered, it wasn’t. I woke up one night to go to the bathroom – only to see her standing by the window. She was looking out over the city. It was stormy that night. The rain pounded against the glass. The only light was from the moon. And by that light – I saw her. She was beautiful – but there was something off. Something I couldn’t quite describe. And then I heard the voice – the voice that made my blood run cold – the voice that made me fear for my life. It was her voice – but it wasn’t. She was speaking – but she wasn’t talking to me. She was talking to someone else. And it chilled me to the bone. I won’t tell you what she said – it doesn’t really matter – all I know is that her eyes were black as coal. And when she turned to look at me – I felt a cold dread I have never felt before. I ran back to bed – holding the sheets and praying that she’d go back to sleep. She didn’t. She got in bed and held me – held me so tight that it hurt – held me so tight – and watched me for the rest of the night. She didn’t sleep. She watched me. Her eyes black as coal. And I knew then – she wasn’t the love of my life. She was the end of it.

My girlfriend talks in her sleep. She's been saying the most horrible things recently...

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