ENTRY 1
HOME SWEET HOME

"Congratulations on your new home!" the realtor exclaims as she hands us the keys to our first home as newlyweds.

Edward turns to me with a breathtaking smile. He grabs me passionately by the back of my head, molds his lips to mine, and kisses me with every fiber of his being. "I can't wait to start this new chapter with you, wife."

I can't contain the pleasure when he calls me that. Running my hands through his hair, I deepen our kiss until we're both panting and desperate for more. The clearing of a throat and soft laugh reminds me that we're not alone. I pull away from my husband, my cheeks tinged pink.

"Well, I'll leave you two lovebirds alone to enjoy your new home," she chimes with a knowing smirk before walking off to her car.

We just bought our dream house months after getting married. It's a big gothic victorian house with white paneling and black accents, surrounded by acres of woods and backs onto a beautiful private lake. Our own little nook of privacy.

It's almost creepy and haunting looking, but Edward and I have always enjoyed things a bit out of the ordinary.

The house is old and requires some renovations, and the yard is unkempt and full of weeds, but we're looking forward to transforming it into our dream home.

We were lucky enough to get it for a steal and were shocked when there were no bidders against us. We didn't think much of it and took it without asking many questions, considering how many challenges we've had with finding the perfect home.

It's meant to be.

I squeal and laugh as Edward squeezes my ass before picking me up bridal style and carrying me up the stone steps to our forever home.

~HSH~

The first few weeks of settling in were exciting. Edward and I defiled every room. We had contractors coming in and out, designing and renovating the house to our liking. It was unbelievable to see it transform before our eyes.

But as weeks went on, I noticed a strange difference in Edward's behavior—a side of him I had never seen before. Before we moved here, Edward never raised his voice. He was always calm and collected, even in stressful situations. Recently, he seemed irritable, yelling, losing his temper quickly, and breaking things for the slightest inconveniences.

I blamed it on the stress of moving into a new house and him starting a new job. But this felt weird… like this wasn't my Edward. I'd heard horror stories of couples discovering their spouses' true colors after marriage, but we dated for four years and lived together in a condo before we married. I knew something had shifted, and strange was going on.

It's eight in the morning on a Saturday, and I'm surprised to see the bed empty—Edward usually likes to sleep in. I head downstairs toward the kitchen for breakfast and a cup of coffee.

I smile when I see Edward, shirtless and only in his sleep pants, standing in front of the sink. I quietly walk toward him, inching to wrap my body around him from behind, missing his warmth. But I freeze when I take in the large blade he's twirling between his fingers. He's not cutting any food, just staring blankly into the sink, lost in a trance as if contemplating something.

"E-Edward," I stutter, weariness in my tone.

His shoulders jump, and the loud clatter of the knife clinking in the sink as he drops it makes me flinch. He twirls around, staring at me in confusion and shock.

"Edward, Hunny, are you okay?" I ask with concern.

He looks down at the tiles before taking a deep breath and relaxing. "Yeah, baby. I'm fine, was about to make some breakfast and got distracted, is all." He tries to reassure me with a forced smile, but I can't push down the bad feeling I have in my gut.

~HSH~

I don't know who my husband is anymore. He switches like he's two different people, and it's scaring the living shit out of me. His behavior has been odd, getting caught doing questionable and weird things and getting worse by the day.

I had to stop Edward from killing an innocent animal in the backyard yesterday. Somedays, it seems like he's not even there, just terrifying and numb, while other days, he's completely psychotic. He's also been rougher when we have sex, and I'm not sure I like it. I can no longer ignore it.

When I made my vows, I promised myself and Edward I would never give up on us, and we would work through any problems. But I'm not sure if I can live in fear like this anymore.

It feels as if he's something else—like there's a monster inside him. I think it's this house, and I'm so close to begging him to move. Our relationship was perfect until we came here.

Almost as if there's an evil presence surrounding us amongst these walls.

So much for our dream home—more like our nightmare home.

The sound of running water comes from the bathroom as Edward cleans up for bed. I'm burrowed in the sheets, curled up on my side for protection, practically on the edge. Chills run down my spine, not knowing what side of Edward I'll be getting tonight.

I shiver when I feel the bed rustle with movement and gasp when the warmth of his body curls up behind me. The scruff from his jaw and his soft lips caress my neck. "I love you, Bella."

My Edward is back, and I can't help the tears that fall from my eyes from missing him.

"I love you too, Edward… so much," I whisper into the darkness and fall asleep, nestled in his arms. Feeling safe and loved for the first time in weeks. Knowing in my heart that we'll be okay and will work through this.

~HSH~

I gasp, fighting to breathe as something constricts around my throat. My eyes shoot open in alarm, and I try to grasp my surroundings but can't in the pitch-black room. At first, I think I'm waking up from a nightmare but realize it's reality when I take a gulp of air and can't breathe.

My head becomes dizzy, and my skin heats as I claw at what's constricting my oxygen. When my nails dig into the strong familiar forearms connected to the hands wrapped around my throat, I look up and make out the eyes that have been my home and safety for years… now choking the life out of me as he straddles me.

But it's not his eyes at the same time; they're not the soft glimmering green I fell in love with. They're deep pools of pitch black, and it's not due to the darkness in the room. From what I can make of his features so close to me, I see the veins bulging in his forehead, and the red flush of his skin from all the strength he's using on me.

I'm not going to die.

Right before I'm about to lose consciousness—white stars blurring my vision—I blindly reach over to the bedside table to my left with one hand, grab the stone candle holder on it, and smash it against the side of his head—hard.

The loss of his grip as he falls over causes me to gasp and cough, taking in the air I need. I don't waste time as I jump off the bed, running out of the room and downstairs. I dart to the kitchen, grab a knife for protection just in case he decides to follow me, and the keys to my car.

Seconds later, right before I reach the front door, I hear his footsteps trampling down the stairs and his panicked voice. "Bella, wait! Stop, please," Edward pleads desperately.

I hold the knife up to him in defense, keeping distance. "Stay the fuck away from me," I demand.

"Baby, please. I'm so confused. I have no idea what happened." His voice is full of fear. "Did I hurt you?" He practically rips the hair from his head in anguish. "I only remember waking up and hearing you screaming and running. Please tell me what's going on?"

"Are you fucking serious, Edward? I woke up to you strangling me to death in our bed," I shriek.

I'm not sure why I'm entertaining him and not getting the fuck away from him and this house, but based on his expression, voice, and utter confusion and fear in his eyes, I believe he doesn't know what he just did.

"Baby… I'm so-so sorry," he chokes out. "I don't know what the fuck is going on with me. Ever since we moved here, I feel like I'm losing my mind, and I'm scared. I didn't want to say anything 'cause I didn't wanna frighten you or lose you, but clearly, I did anyway."

His voice quiets to a whisper, and he looks around as if someone can hear us even though no one's here. "I-I think something is taking over me. I'll black out and wake up, not knowing what I'm doing or how I got there. I just assumed it was stress, but I know it's something else. Then there's also been…" Edward hesitates, unsure if he wants to admit what he confesses next aloud, "There are these voices in my head. Telling me to do fucked up things. But I try my best to ignore it. I don't know if I'm going fucking crazy or if it's this house," he says with defeat.

My skin breaks out in goosebumps at his confession, but it explains his behavior lately. "Edward, we need to leave this place now. There's something evil in here, and it's consuming you. Something bad is gonna happen to one of us if we don't."

All the old witch tales of possessions and demons my grandmother told me that I used to scoff at run through my mind.

"Okay, let's grab our phones and some clothes, and we'll get a hotel for the night. Tomorrow, we'll get a moving truck and put the house for sale," he reassures.

At that moment, I know I have my husband back. He's completely different from whatever evil state takes over him.

Edward reaches out his hand to me, and I drop the knife, following him up the stairs. Once we're in our room, he pulls me close, staring into my eyes with so much love and apology, and leans down to kiss me.

"I'm so sorry I hurt you, but it wasn't me. I love you so much and never want anything bad to happen to you. It would kill me." He looks at the bruises forming on my neck from his grip earlier, and his eyes fill with agony. He brushes his hands against them apologetically as if to ease the pain. "I will never forgive myself."

We grab some important things we need and head back downstairs. Right before we reach the front door, ready to leave this hellhole, Edward groans in pain, bending over and letting out a blood-curdling scream.

I reach out to him in panic. "Edward, are you okay? What's wrong?"

Immediately, all the power and lights in the house go out. Before my own scream releases, my back is pushed back hard against the door, and I feel cold, sharp steel against my neck.

Familiar cold lips graze my ear, and even though I know the man holding a knife to my throat, I don't recognize the deep demonic voice.

"You're not ever leaving this house." A macabre chuckle from the pits of hell emerges from whatever force is using my husband's body.

A tear slides down my cheek, and I flinch as his tongue snakes out to lick my ear. "Home sweet home, baby."

Whatever is in this house won't let us leave.

You can find the image that goes with this entry in our FB group A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Words and on our Instagram page Instagram dot com slash twilightimagecontest

Please leave the creator some love.