The voices were back. The ones that told her to do things she should not do. The ones that told her to eat all the ice cream before her husband could see it. The ones that told her to take the shoes and walk out the door without paying. The ones that told her to drive into incoming traffic. The ones that told her to kill her husband because divorce is too expensive. That last one was becoming increasingly frequent.
She was not sure why such thoughts were appearing at all, much less why they were so frequent. She loved her husband and did not want him to die. Their marriage of five years was strong and secure. She did not want to murder anyone either. The thoughts just appeared within her brain, whispers of her own voice telling her it would be fun, with no logical explanation as to why. She should probably see a therapist about this. She did not end up seeing a therapist about it.
Instead, she kept her thoughts to herself and continued cleaning the house. The house always managed to be filthy no matter how hard she scrubbed the floors, the counters, the tables, the furniture, or put the laundry away. There was always dust, dirt, something. The house was never clean. She never could bring herself to wash the dishes in the sink. The dishwasher was always being run and she tried her hardest not to feel guilty about that. Her husband did not seem to see the issue with the dishwasher being the only source of dish washing.
She was in the kitchen when he arrived home. The pasta was boiling as she applied the seasonings. He wrapped his arms around her, startling her, and pulled her against his chest as he rested his head against hers. She forced her shoulders to untense as her hands continued to stir in the seasonings. The voices told her to stick her hand into the boiling water. She blinked and continued to stir. Her husband kissed her temple and released her.
“Anything I can do to help?” he asked.
She shrugged and pursed her lips. She looked down at the boiling water filled with noodles and her vision shifted. She saw herself reach behind her, grab her husband, and slam his face into the boiling water. She blinked and her vision cleared back to reality, her husband unaware of the latest thoughts within her head while her arms twitched as if ready to act on the thoughts. She shook her head.
“Okay,” her husband told her. “I’m going to drop off my stuff in the bedroom and I’ll be right back.”
She nodded as he walked away and turned her full attention back to the pasta.