My husband is a monster who kidnaps and tortures women. But I love him so much.

It was hard for me to admit, even to myself. I mean, he's so charming and handsome, and he takes care of me. He gives me everything I need, and I'm so happy.<br><br>But, I have to admit it: I know my husband is hurting people. And I don't know if I care.<br><br>---yearago---<br><br>I met him at a bar. He was completely stunning, and from the moment I saw him, I knew I had to have him. And he could tell— he could see the desire written all over my face. So he approached me, and I was surprised that he was funny and smart too. Not just hot, like I thought he would be. That was the first time we ever talked, and I still remember how enjoyable it was. He made me laugh and think in the same breath, and I was just so infatuated.<br><br>It took him less than an hour to get me in bed, and I’ll admit, he was the best I had ever been with. I wish I could say I was proud of myself, say I held out as long as I could. But I gave in quickly, and he took advantage of that.<br><br>I wish I could say that he was a good man who treated me well. But that isn’t true. He had a lot of red flags, and I ignored them because I loved him so much. But he’s never a bad man to ME, so I always think it’s enough.<br><br>I don’t know how long we dated before I found out about the missing women in our town. Six, maybe seven? And I didn’t put two and two together. Not then.<br><br>But my friend Amy did.<br><br>Amy is my best friend, and she knows me better than anyone. She always has my back, and she never says anything bad about the people I like. But one time, she told me that I had to leave my husband.<br><br>She told me that she had been doing research on these missing women, and she was convinced that my husband was involved. I didn’t believe her, but I decided to look as well. And the more I researched, the more I was sure I was wrong.<br><br>None of the women who went missing knew my husband. All of them went to a bar or club the night they went missing. All of them had been drinking heavily, and all of them were last seen with a man who was tall and had dark hair.<br><br>My husband is tall and has dark hair. He likes to pick up tipsy women at the bar. And I know he isn’t above taking advantage of them when they’re drunk.<br><br>But I was sure that he didn’t kidnap them. That he would never hurt them. I was SURE.<br><br>And I was wrong.<br><br>It took a few more weeks for me to realize Amy was right. By that time, two more women were missing. And when I finally put two and two together, I realized something even worse.<br><br>The women were all similarities to me.<br><br>They all had red hair. They were all my height. Most of them were my size, give or take ten pounds. And they all had my eye color.<br><br>They looked like me, and they were all missing. And then it hit me, like a brick to the face.<br><br>My husband is taking these women because they remind him of me. And then he’s hurting them.<br><br>I knew I had to do something, but I didn’t know what. I couldn’t leave my husband— I loved him too much, and it wouldn’t do any good. Not now, when I had proof and the police could get involved.<br><br>So I decided to follow him one day, and see what happened.<br><br>I didn’t have to follow him for long, because he quickly picked up a woman who looked like me. He took her outside, where he kissed her and felt her up. Then he took her to his car, and drove off. I followed him, not having any idea where he was going.<br><br>I didn’t expect it to be so close to home.<br><br>He drove her to our house, and I followed him. I parked my car and snuck inside, and that was when I heard it.<br><br>The sound of a woman moaning and crying.<br><br>It sounded like she was in the basement, so I crept towards the stairs. I slowly made my way down, trying not to be heard. And then I saw it.<br><br>My husband, tying up a redheaded woman who was squirming and crying.<br><br>I didn’t know what to do. I had never seen anything like this before, and I had no idea how to proceed. I decided the safest thing to do would be to go back upstairs, call the police, and book a hotel room for the night.<br><br>But as I turned around, I saw my husband. He was standing behind me, and he was covered in blood. The woman underneath him was unconscious, but he didn’t seem to notice.<br><br>“Hey, babe.” He said, grinning at me. “What are you doing here?”<br><br>I tried to answer, but I couldn’t. I could feel my voice trembling, and I knew that if I tried to talk, I would cry. But I knew I couldn’t cry. Not here, not now.<br><br>So I took a deep breath, and I tried again. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here. But now that I am, there are some things I need to ask you.”<br><br>“Of course, babe.” He said. And he walked towards me.<br><br>As he approached, I could smell the blood on him. I gagged, and had to swallow my bile. But I didn’t want to leave, so I stayed.<br><br>“What are you doing down here?” I asked him.<br><br>He chuckled. “Well, you were at work. And I was home alone. So I brought someone home.”<br><br>“And you’re torturing her?” I asked, horrified.<br><br>He shrugged. “I guess you could say that.”<br><br>I gulped. I was horrified, but I also felt a little thrill at his actions. I knew it was messed up, but I couldn’t help how I felt.<br><br>“Why are you doing this?” I asked him.<br><br>He shrugged again. “I don’t know. I just like it, I guess. And it makes me happy.”<br><br>That was enough for me. I knew I couldn’t leave him, not now. Not when I saw how happy it made him. Not when I felt the same way.<br><br>But I had to ask one more question. “Why are you doing this to women who look like me?”<br><br>He thought for a moment. “I don’t know. I just know it makes me feel better to hurt women who remind me of you. Does that bother you?”<br><br>I thought for a moment. I knew I should be bothered. I should be upset that my husband was consistently kidnapping and torturing women who looked like me. But something about it turned me on.<br><br>“No.” I said. “It doesn’t bother me.”<br><br>My husband grinned at me, and he put his hand on my shoulder. “Good.” He said. “I was worried you would be mad.”<br><br>I shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I just don’t have a problem with it.”<br><br>My husband squeezed my shoulder. “Good” he said. “Then it’s all okay.”<br><br>I nodded, and I smiled. It WAS okay. I had admitted it to myself, and I had admitted it to my husband. I didn’t care that he kidnapped and hurt women. I loved him, and that was what mattered most.<br><br>And that’s how I realized it. My husband is a monster who kidnaps and tortures women, but I love him so much.<br><br>---<br><br>P.S. I know this was a bit different from my other stuff, but this was a request from a user here. I’m sorry if it offended you or grossed you out in any way, and I won’t be writing any more like it. Just wanted to let you guys know :)