slowly going insane (4)

Dear diary,                                June 3rd, 1770
It has been long since the incident, my husband is mainly silent. He comes home, goes to the bedroom, he only comes out of the room to eat with me, but when I try to talk to him he doesn't say a word. He doesn't even bother to grab the newspaper from the table after dinner, I just find him staring at the ceiling in the bed. I haven't seen him sleep unless it's on the job. The only times he's spoken to me was 4 weeks ago, when he walked to the table for dinner and stubbed his toe, screamed and flipped over the table resulting in broken glass on the floor. All he did after is walk to the bedroom. 3 weeks ago when I asked him how he was doing, he responded "every day gets worse and worse, I'm sick of pretending it's all going to get better, I don't want to be here anymore." What did he mean by that? I couldn't bring myself to picture what possibly he could have gone through, what he had to see, what he had to do that made him like this. 2 weeks ago when he was yelling at nothing brought me to confusion.
"I don't know what you're doing in my house, but you better get out, we don't want you here!" My husband exclaimed
"Lee, what's happened?" I wonder
"The man standing there, he's ignoring me, I want him gone." He continued
"There's no one there, honey." He grows pale
"Are you feeling okay?" I get cut off by my husband storming out of the room. I don't know who he's talking about, is he going mad?
"Lee!" I call out for no answer in return
"Lee!" I call once more if only he would tell me what's going on.

See all 0 comments