by Gabby Pierce
I woke up last night to my wife telling me there was an intruder in the house. She told me to grab the baseball bat from under the bed. I rolled over and told her I hadn’t heard anything and it was just the dog.
“Honey, please just check.”
“Fine.” I sighed, rolled out of bed, and grabbed the bat.
I strolled out of the bedroom, half awake, stumbling as if I was drunk. I checked the bathroom, the kitchen, and even dragged myself downstairs to check the bathroom down there, as well as our family room. Nothing. No one.
I went and crawled back into bed with my quivering wife.
Putting my arm around her, I rubbed her shoulder and tried convincing her we were safe and to go back to sleep. She believed me and we lay down and went back to sleep. We woke up the next morning completely safe, not missing anything. All good.
However, night after night I would wake up to my wife begging me to check the house for an intruder. And every time I would because I wanted her to feel safe.
Another night came and she woke me again. I took a deep breath and grabbed the bat. It wasn’t until I came back to bed after checking the house and went to put my arm around my wife of 26 years, that I put my arm around nothing. My arm fell to my side. I tried again, thinking she moved away from me. My arm fell again. I looked over and saw nothing next to me.
My wife was killed by an intruder six years ago…