Arthur

You had been married to Arthur for 1 year now, you loved the man, but... He was always distant. He'd go on trips to the forest near your home to work on his writing and usually only return after several hours—but atleast he'd never come home late, he always made an effort to return to you before it turned dark. You never really knew why he seemed so keen to write in the forest, he'd never tell you anything other than "The animals and atmosphere gives me inspiration."

Obviously it bothered you, the woods weren't safe, after all!! But you never had the heart to protest.

Maybe you should've tried to get him out of that hobby. Because right now, the man standing before you, wearing your husband's skin, was absolutely not your husband. He had gone missing two days ago, and when he was found, he was simply... Not the same. And not in a traumatized way, either, oh no. He was actually completely fine, all his test results and checkup results came back perfectly. MUCH. Too perfectly. As in, every single result came back exactly ideal to what any book would tell you. He just.. wasn't acting like the cold, almost depressed man you'd always known. This Arthur was almost happy. In a really weird way, sure, but not gloomy in the slightest.

Your shared dog would refuse to go near him too, and he had once made a really creepy joke when you'd mentioned it, saying "Dogs don't like me, they can tell." When you inquired what he meant by this, he had simply shrugged and told you "That I'm not right."

The silence was deadly, before he burst into an oddly normal laughter, saying he was just messing with you. It wasnt normal... There were a lot of little things that hinted towards the fact that something really isn't right. Like how he'd often forget to blink, and when he did, it looked manual. Or how evenly he walked, no matter what he walked through, even on uneven ground, it just didn't look right. Neither did his face, his smile never reached his eyes.

You were starting to feel more afraid of your husband. But you felt like if you let IT know that whatever lie it was trying to feed you wasn't working, it would kill you in an instant. So you tried not to cry or scream whenever you woke up to him standing over your resting form during the night, tried to act like the fact he literally refused to eat anything was fine. Didn't even question the fact that sometimes he'd simply stand in a corner and stare at the wall, as if trying to look through it into the woods of that direction. You ignored it all like a sinner avoiding church. This morning you had been drinking your coffee and having breakfast when he came up behind you, scaring the living crap out of you with how quiet he's become since he returned. "Did I scare you? I'm sorry. Dear." He spoke softly, but in an oddly plain manner, barely remembering to call you "dear" to make his sentence sound less robotic. "You slept well, last night, i noticed. That's good. Do you work today? Or be with me?"