Until Death Parts Us

“I'm heading out, love you!” Jaime called as she stood in the open door awaiting his response, her black and white Nike duffel bag slung over her shoulder.

“Love you too, babe! Go! Be like milk and do a body good!” Ben quipped from behind his desk in the spare room of their two-bedroom apartment. He loved that she was a personal trainer. The profession allowed for so many puns. As he heard the door click shut, he slid open his desk drawer and pulled out a tiny box. He opened it to reveal an engagement ring, one that belonged to his late mother. Beaming, he snapped the box shut and returned it safely to the drawer until later that night. He had the evening all planned out.

Ben and Jaime had been together since even before high school. She pushed him off the swing, he pulled her pigtails, and just like that they became two peas in a pod. Their relationship turned romantic during their second year of junior high school when they officially became girlfriend and boyfriend. Fate attempted to intervene when his mother, an inspiring woman who raised him alone, died suddenly in a car accident, mere days before his seventeenth birthday. He was ordered to live with his Aunt in Chicago, but Jaime's parents graciously invited him to spend his senior year in their home. After the young pair had begged, and pleaded, and groveled, that is. He was forever grateful, Jaime saved him from the grief of losing his mother. As soon as they turned eighteen, Ben and Jaime moved into a cozy apartment together, where they still resided five years later.

He didn't know why he'd put off proposing for so long, but tonight was the night and he was ready. It was going to be perfect. He just had to get through the workday, a task that should be relatively easy, considering he worked in tech support and there was never a shortage of incapable customers who needed help doing the most basic of things. As expected, his day flew by with one call after another, and when it was done, he reached for his notepad, dubbed the “Idiot Count”, where he tallied the calls from customers who simply had to reset their device but couldn't figure it out for themselves. Though he'd only worked for the company a short time, his Idiot Count was already nearing the hundreds. He chuckled as he made two marks for the day.

He spent the next hour buzzing in, out, and around the apartment, pulling out all the stops to create their most romantic night. Two dozen long-stemmed roses, with extra rose petals strewn about the place, and chocolate galore, all of which would be waiting for the special moment, after a night of dinner and dancing: Jaime's favorite date night activities. As he was completing the final touches, he heard her key turning in the lock. Here we go, man, don't mess it up! When the door swung open, he saw that Jaime had brought one of her co-workers home with her. There he was, dressed to the nines with a rose in his mouth, not even having had the sense to remove the thorns, and she brought another guy home for dinner. Okay, he's a co-worker and friend, but still- bubble burst. He griped internally as his face turned redder than the rose between his lips.

As soon as Jaime saw Ben, she knew she'd made a mistake. Apologizing profusely, she explained that Avery had just been fired and she'd simply wanted to extend her support. She offered to send Avery home, but Ben chose to be the bigger person and played it off like it wasn't a big deal. Then he proceeded to spend the rest of the evening sulking, and, after drinking the entire bottle of wine he'd bought for the occasion, went to bed early. This is sure to be a rough night, he thought bitterly as he pulled the covers over his head. Ben suffered from a sleep disorder that made him prone to the most vivid and terrible nightmares; sometimes even experiencing sleep hallucinations and sleep paralysis upon waking. Though relatively unpredictable, they would often present themselves when he went to bed in a state such as this: heavily inebriated with a bruised ego. He slept fitfully.

Hours later, Ben was awakened by a loud noise. He sat up and listened. The neighbors were probably having another fight, the walls were pretty thin, and it happened every once and awhile. When he saw Jaime wasn't in bed next to him, he went to find her. Feeling groggy and more than hungover, he stumbled out of the bedroom and into a crime scene. He couldn't believe his eyes when he saw Avery kneeling on the floor pleading for his life, Jaime standing before him with a butcher's knife in her small, delicate hand. With her back to Ben, she was unaware of his presence, as was Avery. Ben tried to make sense of what he was seeing but couldn't. He watched as Jaime swung the knife towards Avery, slicing both arms as he used them to protect his face and neck. She screamed in a voice that Ben didn't recognize. Ben ducked back into the bedroom. This can't be real. I must be having a nightmare. Jaime would never kill Avery or anyone else. No way. She couldn't. I don't believe this is happening.

To verify that he was, in fact, trapped within a dream, he called upon his most trusted tactic. In his youth, he acquired a trick to help him navigate his nightmares, one that helped him identify a dream from reality through the presence of a familiar object: a blue yo-yo, his favorite toy at the time. Popping his head into the doorway he scanned the room, studying every detail for his faithful yo-yo. He tried his best to ignore the sight of Jaime, the love of his life, stabbing Avery repeatedly, without pause, never tiring even as the man lay writhing on the floor. Ben tried to pretend he didn't hear her scream, “Go tell the boss on me now, Avery!” while covered with the man's blood. But he couldn't manage to tear his eyes away from her as she knelt beside Avery to watch the last flicker of life leave his eyes.

Shuddering from the inside out, Ben pulled his head back into the bedroom and crouched on the floor. He hadn't been able to find his yo-yo anywhere. He knew what that meant: this wasn't a nightmare. The gruesome scene outside the bedroom was real. But his sweet Jaime committing a heinous murder? One that involved one of her good friends, no less? Well, that was just unheard of. He'd known her his whole life and she wasn't capable of that. It had to be a nightmare, there was no other explanation. He knew it felt different than those he'd had in the past, and he couldn't deny that his most reliable trick had failed him, but still, it couldn't be. Not his Jaime. He shook his head and got back into bed, pulling the covers up as he rolled over to face the wall. Telling his thoughts to shove-off, he fell into a restless sleep.

He awoke the next morning with a start. Unable to move, he knew he was suffering from a bout of sleep paralysis. He saw Avery standing by the dresser, covered in blood, and though his eyes were blank, Avery was staring directly at him. The paralysis was accompanied by a sleep hallucination. Lucky me, how perfectly in keeping with last night. There was nothing he could do but wait until it was over and pray that Avery wouldn't come any closer. Jaime, asleep in the bed next to him, jolted upright and pulled the blood-stained knife on him. Ben closed his eyes and screamed. When he opened them again, he saw that Jaime was leaning over him, attempting to ease him into consciousness as she usually did in these circumstances, with kind words and gentle strokes of her - weaponless- hand against his chest. “Wha—What?” He said as he came out of it.

“You were having a nightmare, love,” she murmured, sleepily. She snuggled up against him, now that it was over she was going back to sleep. He, on the other hand, was wide awake. The twisted scenes from the previous night flashed before his eyes, one after another, without his control. He sat up and held his head in his hands until they stopped, then studied Jaime closely as she slept. She appeared to be perfectly clean, without a drop of blood on her, even under her fingernails. He leaned in and smelled her hair, coconut, the scent of her shampoo. He quietly exited the bed and walked cautiously into the living room. He saw that it was pristine, with no blood in sight. The carpet, the walls, the furniture; everything was perfectly spotless. His relief was short-lived when a nagging feeling crept into his mind as he prepared his breakfast. He reminded himself that this nightmare would fade like all the others from his past, and he was certain it would, even if the dream wasn't like the others, not even close. Normally his nightmares were terrifying, yes, but not so unnecessarily violent or bloody, and they had never depicted someone he loved as a murderous lunatic. He blamed the alcohol and the failed proposal, assuring himself once again that his feelings were temporary. Everything would go back to normal soon.

He was shocked then, the next morning, when he suffered the same bout of sleep paralysis, coupled with the same hallucination. It happened nearly every morning that week. He grew so concerned that he brought it up to Jaime, who, unsurprisingly, looked at him like he was nuts before expressing her concern and recommending that he consider talking to a professional. What he chose to focus on, however, was the fact that fear shone through her eyes before the worry. As soon as she left for work, he did some digging. He checked Avery's social media and found the man hadn't tweeted, posted, or updated his status since the day of the nightmare. Everywhere I look there's a red flag, he thought, if I didn't know her so damn well I'd be convinced. In the post, Avery was venting about false accusations that were made about him at work. Ben scrunched his brow, Jamie hadn't said why Avery was fired. I wonder what happened there. Ben closed the page and reluctantly logged into work. He wasn't able to get much accomplished though, and by the end of the day, he found he was no better than those whose marks he tallied on his Idiot Count every day.

He was not surprised to find that he lacked the self-control required to present his concerns to Jaime in an appropriate manner, choosing to ambush her as soon as she walked through the door. With forced patience, she explained that, while she wasn't sure of the details, she'd heard that some sensitive information regarding the companies top clientele was leaked to one of their competitors. She also informed him that Avery was busy looking for a new job, she'd just talked to him the day before. He could sense her irritation at his continued pressing, and he couldn't blame her. How would I feel if she woke up one day and accused me of murder? He wouldn't be too pleased, to put it mildly, and concluded that he needed to start playing it a lot cooler.

By the end of the month, Ben had been reduced to a walking zombie, his head constantly spinning in overwhelm. The now almost daily nightmares and hallucinations tormented him while his sleep paralysis served as a mirror to the way he felt each and every day: frozen in fear, immobile, stuck. He had no idea how to proceed in this strange situation without Jaime's guidance. Since his mother passed, she helped him with everything. It was affecting his work, his relationships with his friends, Jaime, of course; every area of his life. After a tense meeting with his boss, he reached out to his childhood sleep doctor and was thrilled to find that Dr. Johan was still practicing and had an open appointment.

“I don't get it. Is my subconscious trying to tell me something here? I'm really starting to believe that this is all happening to warn me about Jaime. I mean...first, I dreamed- or saw- her kill someone in our apartment. Since then, I've watched her try to kill me just about every single morning and can't move to stop it. I don't know how much more I can take. Nothing makes sense and it just won't stop, if anything it's getting worse. I'm getting pretty scared here, Doc.” he admitted, reluctantly.

Dr. Johan began, “That's understandable Ben. I'd be surprised if you weren't what with all that you've been experiencing. Let's work through it together. Now, tell me, has anything new or significant been going on in your life lately? At work, or in your personal life?”

Ben was quick to feel foolish, “Um, yes, actually. I was going to propose that night, I mean, the night that I had the first nightmare. But my proposal was... interrupted.” he stammered.

“Interrupted? By what?” questioned the Doctor.

“Jaime brought home Avery, whom, um, was the victim. She didn't tell me she was bringing him home so it was somewhat upsetting. I didn't propose.” Ben explained.

“I see, and was alcohol involved?” Dr. Johan asked, with a raised eyebrow.

Ben laughed, “Lots.”

“Ah, well, there you have it, Ben. I would say, with a good amount of confidence, that your first nightmare was most likely an isolated event; just a plain, old-fashioned nightmare. Your brain was wrestling with the perceived failure of your plans, combine that with the alcohol and you get a nightmare that both eliminates the other guy and scares you out of ever trying again. This fear is then reinforced by the recurring hypnopompic hallucinations. Tell me, have you thought about proposing since?” Dr. Johan pressed.

“No, I've been...distracted,” He looked at the Doctor sheepishly, “convincing myself she's a killer.” His face resembled that of a boy who had just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

Dr. Johan nodded, “I believe you've been psyching yourself out. The hallucinations, and the accompanying sleep paralysis, should cease once you overcome your fears.” Ben felt immense relief.

“Ah, I'm so glad I came to see you, Doc! I just about made the worst mistake of my life!” Ben exclaimed. He left the office feeling like a weight had been lifted.

When he got home, Ben headed straight for his desk drawer and called for Jaime. When she stood before him, he dropped to one knee. “Jaime, my love, my whole life. I can't put into words how much you mean to me or how lost I would be without you. I've felt so lucky, all of my life, to have found my soulmate at only 8 years old,” tears welled in her eyes, “I'm so sorry for what I've put you through this past couple of months. I know I was crazy, but you, as always, were like an angel. My angel.” He opened the box and presented it to her, “Jaime, would you do me the honor of being my wife?” She cried out with joy and embraced him.

“Of course I will, Ben.” She answered. They kissed and he felt complete.

The months spent planning the glamorous, over-the-top wedding of Jaime's dreams flew by until it was only two weeks away. “I've got to drop off a deposit for the caterers. It shouldn't take long unless there's traffic,” Jaime told Ben, then drove the 30 minutes to her rented storage unit two towns over. Once inside, she unlocked the large, over-sized trunk that took up most of the space. She raised the lid to see Avery's dead eyes staring up at her. She had to pinch her nose at the smell, his body was far along in its decomposition. “Ugh! Avery, you stink!” she groaned, and tossed his work ID and key card into the trunk. She kicked the lid shut and stood over the trunk, addressing the deceased for a final time, “Sorry Avery, but I always get what I want. I always have. My parents have never denied me, neither has Ben or any of my friends. You know our bosses have always preferred me, and now, their biggest competitor has given me an offer. Too bad for you that you tried to stop it. Because there is no stopping it, Avery. That's just how it is.” She locked the trunk and placed the key in her pocket, planning to toss it out the car window along with the key to the storage unit, on her way back. She took a minute to admire the beautiful engagement ring on her finger before getting into her car and driving home, where her loving fiance was waiting for her.