It wasn't a good night (Stephew)

Asleep or Not

Third Person P.O.V.

Matt held Stephanie close. Then he turned over, facing away from his wife. Then he turned to stare at the ceiling. Then put his arm over his eyes. Sighing, Matt climbed out of bed. He was going to... do something. There wasn't really anything to do, but Matt wanted to go clear his head. No, he NEEDED to clear his head.

Matt switched his pajama bottoms with his pants and wandered downstairs. He examined the kitchen. Usually it was a mess with many plates lying around and dishes to be washed. Yet tonight, of all nights, the rarely used cooking room was spotless. The knives were slotted in the blocks, the dishes put away, and, for once, a cleaned off counter top.

Matt slipped on his jacket and wandered outside. He was going to get the mail. Usually Stephanie and Matthew usually alternated every other day to get the mail. Today, no one'd gotten the mail, and Matt was going to use that as a wonderful excuse to take a walk outside. It wasn't a far walk, but he'd decided to take the "scenic route."

Reality

Stephanie shivered and reached over to her husband for warmth. Her eyes snapped open as her hand rested on nothing. Stephanie sat up. "Matthew?" she asked. He wasn't in the bathroom. He wasn't in the closet. "Matthew," she called, walking down the stairs.

She checked all over the house, calling her husband's name, louder and more frequent. Afraid, she slumped onto a bar stool beside the kitchen counter. "Matthew?" she quivered. Did... he leave? "No! Don't be foolish," she thought. "Mathew wouldn't do that. He loves me."  

Yet doubt still nagged at her. Matthew? Her sexy husband that fan-girls would throw themselves at? The same husband that she was lucky to find in the first place? Maybe he-

"Stop thinking like that," she ordered herself. "Matthew loves you for who YOU! No one else. Stop being so insecure." She was asleep. That had to be the answer. Matt would never leave her, especially without saying goodbye or leaving a note. She was simply asleep.

Dreaming

Stephanie's eyes snapped open. She was... downstairs. She was lying on the kitchen counter. She didn't know whether she was asleep or not. Stephanie wandered about the house again. "Matthew?" she hollered, but once more, the house was empty. Stephanie looked at her laptop. It was open.

The theorist headed into the room and sat down in front of her computer. She squinted at the piercingly bright screen. Finally, as her eyes adjusted, she read the title.

"Youtube Star Found Dead.

Yesterday, the Youtube 'content creator' Matthew Patrick, or MatPat as he was known on the internet, was found killed in his home. The family is not speaking out about the nature of the death and the police refuse to comment on the situation. The police on the case said that they have no main suspects, but many people suspect his wife, Stephanie Patrick. MatPat was..."

The rest of the article began to get blurry as her eyes began to water. No, not Matthew. He couldn't be dead. She slammed the laptop closed. "You could be in the state of denial," her mind suggested. "Many victims have moments where they don't believe  that their spouse is dead. That they simply can't fathom their partner's death."

"He's not dead," she told herself. Steph wondered back into the kitchen. She sat back down on the bar stool. Maybe if she went to sleep, all of this would disappear.

Reality

She opened her eyes and rose from the counter. "No," she refused. "My husband, Matthew Patrick isn't dead." However, she looked around the house that she'd spent so long making perfect with her husband. She did have distinct memories of sitting on that couch without Matthew.

After turning in a circle she found herself looking at the shelves of the kitchen again. Her eyes rested on the the knife block. "No," she refused. "I will not." Yet even as she vowed these words, she found herself across he room, drawing out a non-serrated knife. She the cold metal up against her wrist.

The sharp edge laid there ready to be used, but didn't draw any blood. Finally she convinced herself. "If it is a dream, this will help me wake up. If this is reality, then it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter without Matthew." Yet the blade didn't move across her skin.

A face flashed in her mind. She saw Ryan grinning at her, daring her to do it. Finally, with tears forming in her eyes, she dragged the sharp blade across her skin. She cried out a bit in pain. Nothing changed. With all of her chips placed on the bet that this was a dream, she cut her arm open again. And again. A fourth time. A fifth. Sixth. Seventh. Eighth.

By this point she couldn't tell what there was more of on the floor. Her blood, or her tears. She pressed the knife up against her skin, ready to slice again when she heard a familiar voice call from the doorway. "Stephanie?" the sad voice asked.

*

Matthew had walked out to the mailbox, and walked back to the door. Then he walked to the mailbox again, then back to the chair on their front patio. Matt kept thinking about the next day. He didn't know what he'd do. After making a few calls, he'd been able to let everyone in the theorist team know what was going on.

Work was to continue, but without Matt and Steph for awhile. He was able to schedule a therapist: two days from that night. Matt sighed as he ended out the call. "She's a rape victim," he thought, "why can't they get us in any faster?"

Matt called and ordered some roses. He was hoping they would cheer her up when she woke up. Once they arrived, he took them, payed the man from his phone, and headed inside. He happily walked in and- was that Stephanie? Matt watched in horror as his wife sliced his arm over and over. "Stephanie?" he finally was able to blurt out. "Stephanie stop!"

There was a bit of a struggle, as Matthew tried to wrestle the knife out of her hand and Stephanie tried to give him a hug. Matthew finally threw the knife on the floor and clutched his wife close, ignoring the blood trickling down his back. "Stephanie," he cried out through his tears, "please? Please don't do this..."

"I'm sorry," she teared into his chest, "I... I... I thought-" They kissed, tears of sadness and joy mixing. Matt dragged her into the bathroom and washed out her wounds.

Matt pulled in a chair and took out the gauze. "St-Stephanie," he hiccuped, still crying. He shakily wrapped up her arm. "Y-you know I'm- that you- why d-did you hurt yourself?"

"Oh, Matthew," she cried. "I thought I was asleep and the best way to wake up was to by... by..." She mentally berated herself as she realized how stupid her statement sounded, "by feeling pain."

"Oh honey," he cried, joining her on the edge of the tub. "You didn't have to do that. Why... why would you want to hurt yourself in the dream?"

"Because I though you were dead," she wailed, sobbing uncontrollably. "I read an article on the computer that said that you were dead. And if you were dead, then... it didn't matter anyway."

Matt pulled her close. "Oh Stephanie, it's okay. I'm right here. I'm right here."

"I-I-I-" Stephanie stammered out. She couldn't bear it anymore and laid her head on his lap. "I felt numb. I didn't feel anything because you were gone. I don't want to live without you. I love you too much."

Matt just held her. "It's okay," he comforted.

Stephanie finally cried herself out. She still was hiccuping and letting out small wails, but with Matt holding her tight, her lack of water left in her eyes, and an extreme amount of cuddling she didn't want to cry anymore. "Let's go t-to bed," she suggested.

Matthew carried his bride like he had many times before, except now it was so different. He softly placed her down on the bed. He tucked her into bed and curled up next to her. They intermingled and held each other. "I will never let anything ever happen to you."

Those words rang throughout Stephanie's head as she fell asleep; and her fear began to manipulate everything.

[Thanks for reading! Please comment so I knew that I've done a good job]