My Sleeping Wife

I pull into the driveway after spending all night at the bar. The lights were out as I got in the house, my wife already in bed. Mostly drunk, but a little tired, I stumble into the bedroom without even turning on the lights. I know the way around my house blind. I open the bedroom door as slowly as I can, but she stirs a little. Hurridly, I ran to bed, and took her in my arms to make sure she didn't wake up.

Something just felt wrong. I should have know it then. But, I focused on the sound of my wife breathing, and with a little trouble, finally fell asleep with the love of my life in my arms.

When I finally wake up in the morning, she is no longer in my arms, or even in the bed. In her place is a puddle of dried blood. There are bloodied footprints leading out of the room. Thinking the must have been my wife's, I sprint after them, eventually leading me to the living room, which I walked through last night on my way to the bedroom. My jaw dropped.

There was my wife. Cut open. Nailed to the wall. Dead. Just as I can't think of anything more upsetting, I notice to my right, someone wrote something in blood on the wall. I can barely make it out...

"Thanks for holding me last night, but maybe you should think about turning on the lights when you walk in."