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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/Tencoach on 2024-10-05 22:07:33+00:00.

It was late at night, and my wife was asleep. With a small table light on, I sat alone downstairs on my laptop, searching well, I’ll leave that to your imagination. I heard a slight creak from upstairs, but I’m used to those little creaks. This had been my routine for the last several months.

Our marriage wasn’t always like this, but recently we have been drifting apart. She’s become distant, and it’s like she’s just going through the motions. Sex consists of me lying on top while she stares at the ceiling. We are still a young couple in our early thirties, but unlike our friends who stayed together because they had kids, we enjoy our dinner parties and game nights too much. But now, our marriage had become stale, and we were too afraid to be left on the shelf.    

I finally relieved myself, to put it politely. Like every night before, I went through the ritual of deleting my internet browser history. I had no choice, as my wife often uses my laptop to order stuff. As I went to press delete and cleanse my soul, I noticed a site called “Sinister.” That’s strange, I didn’t recall ever visiting that site. I clicked on the link and it took me to a dark web forum page. And there is no way my wife’s been on here. She’s the definition of vanilla.

Against my better judgment, I decided to read the page, and there was a conversation between two usernames, “Gus,” the name of our cat, and the other, “Haystack.” I scrolled through the messages, and my eyes widened in shock. My wife had hired a hitman to kill me.

I slunk into bed beside her. I laid flat on my back, wide awake. Every time she stirred or turned over, I flinched. Should I leave? Should I call the cops? Why does she want me dead? All these thoughts raced through my mind.  

The next morning I was shattered. I didn’t sleep at all. How could I after finding out my wife hired a hitman to kill me? We have a routine before work where Alice brews the coffee while I prepare breakfast, usually porridge and fruit. Yes, we are one of those health-freak couples. While we eat breakfast, we rarely converse. Over the years, we’ve slowly run out of things to say.

Out of the blue, Alice asked, “What have you got on today?” I stared at her. She never asks me about my day. Why is she asking now?

I stayed vague. “Just a lot of meetings.” Alice continued, “Any important?”

Why is she probing me? Is she looking to inform the hitman to my whereabouts?

“Brad and I have a meeting with the board over the merger,” I replied.

Alice quietly left the table.

I couldn’t concentrate at the board meeting. There’s no way my wife, who I exchanged vows with, could have hired a hitman. I was in a nightmare, and I was ready to wake up.

“And the timescales?” the CEO asked. A round table of suits stared at me. I snapped out of my trance. “Yes, the timescales are fine,” I replied.

As I left the board meeting, my business partner Brad caught up to me in the corridor. Brad was a little older and had a speckle of grey in his beard making him distinguished.

“Is everything okay?” he asked. “Sorry, I couldn’t sleep last night,” I replied.

Brad smiled, “Go home, get some rest. You need to be at your best tonight.” “Tonight?” I asked. He looked at me funny. “Yes, our weekly game night. You’re hosting.”

With everything going on, I had totally forgotten.  

It was getting late at work. Everyone had left the office floor. I sat anxiously in my cubicle, too afraid to go home. What if the hitman was waiting for me to leave? After all, my wife would have likely informed the hitman of where I worked. A cleaning crew entered the office floor. One guy had a skull tattoo on his arm. Is he here to kill me? I told myself to stop being crazy. I had a game night to host.

I entered the office’s underground parking garage. The lights switched on as I walked to my car. I heard footsteps from behind and turned sharply. A security attendant politely nodded. I took a deep breath. If that was the hitman, I would already be dead. I would never have seen it coming.

On my journey home, I kept glancing in my rear-view. An SUV was keeping its distance. Up ahead, the stop light turned red, and I was forced to slow down. The SUV pulled up beside me at the lights. I looked across but couldn’t see anyone through the blacked-out windows. My heart was pounding. The light turned green, and the SUV drove off in another direction.

Back at home, we hosted our game night with two other couples. One couple was Allen and Jules, who always told stories of their latest wine tasting weekends. They were incredibly superficial, but that’s why we liked them. And then there was Brad and his devoted wife Cara, who weren’t drinking tonight. They were going through their third IVF cycle.

My wife chose the adult game “Bad Choices,” which was ironic as it’s designed to find out your darkest secrets. I somehow managed to keep my composure during the game. Everyone enjoyed the questions, giving silly answers. Alice was the life and soul of the party. How can she act so sociable after what she’s done? Did I even know her?

It was my turn, and I decided this was the perfect opportunity to slip in my own question. Would you ever hire a hitman to kill your significant other? My aim was to get Alice to confess in front of everyone.

As I was about to ask my question, Alice stood up and asked, “Would anyone like more wine?” Jules quipped, “Do you have a 1920 Bual?” Allen looked at Alice. “He’s such a bitch.” Everyone laughed.

Alice went into the kitchen, and Brad joined her. “I’ll help you pour.”

A few minutes later they arrived back, and Brad is drinking a glass of wine. Cara looked down and sipped her water. I took a deep sigh and asked a question on the card. “Have you ever looked through your spouse’s phone?” Everyone put their hands up.  

After the couples finally left, I waited for my wife to go to bed. I went back on the dark web forum. I still wasn’t convinced my wife ordered the hit. What if it was just a fantasy? That would be disturbing, but at least my life wouldn’t be in danger. I scrolled through the rest of the forum and saw dozens of spouses ordering hits. At what point did their love go rotten?

I re-read my wife’s chilling conversation with the hitman. There was no doubt she had ordered my death. It was like I was nothing more than a bug waiting to be zapped. I violently hurled into my waste paper bin. I wiped the vomit from my mouth and reached for my cell to call the cops. I couldn’t make the call. Even though my wife despised me, I couldn’t bear for her to spend the rest of her life behind bars.

Okay, there must be another way. Maybe I could get the hitman to call it off. I set up a new profile and messaged the hitman asking to meet. I stared at the screen, awaiting a response. I had no idea how long it takes hitmen to reply.

A few minutes later, a message appeared from the hitman. “Why?” I quickly typed, “I need you to take special care of my wife.” Yes, I know I’m incriminating myself, but it was the only way to get the hitman to agree to meet me. The hitman answered, “Seal’s tonight.”

It was now 1 am. I snuck out of the house and drove to Seal’s bar, which was located by the docks. I glanced out of my window as I passed the dark waters. I arrived and parked close to the entrance, just in case I needed to make a quick getaway. I tentatively entered the dive bar. Every fiber of my being was screaming at me to leave. The bar was nearly empty, with only a handful of unsavory characters hunched over their drinks. They all looked capable of killing a man. One already had.

I ordered two beers and sat alone at a table near the back of the bar. I took a sip of beer, but my hands were trembling so much I spilt it down my shirt. I waited for over half an hour. This is batshit crazy, I thought. As I got up to leave, a tall, thin, middle-aged guy with long, greasy hair swiveled the chair in front of me and sat backward on it. His hawk eyes pointed to one of the beers. “Mine?” I struggled to speak and just nodded.

The hitman took a long swig of beer. “Are you a cop?” he asked. Before I could answer, he sniggered, exposing his rotten meth teeth. “Cops don’t waste beer.”

I realized he had been studying my every move since I arrived.

An awkward silence. “I found a message,” I stuttered. “Let me guess, you want me to stop the contract?” he interrupted. “Yes, how did you know?” I enquired. “Gus has the same IP address,” he replied.

How stupid of me, I should’ve used a VPN. In my defense, I am running on fumes.

I took a deep swallow. “It’s been a misunderstanding.”

The hitman casually lit up a cigarette. He seemed so at home like he’s had this exact same encounter before.

“She’s already paid,” he said. “I can pay you more,” I blurted out.

He leaned in close and spoke in a hushed tone. “Money isn’t the only reason I’m in this line of work.”

His words shocked me to my very core. He stood up. I panicked.

“I can pay you more to kill my wife!”

I couldn’t believe what I had just done. If someone had told me a few days ago that I would order a hit on my wife, I would have had them sectioned.

Old school, the hitman wrote a figure on a piece of paper along with his offshore bank account details and slid it across the table. “Twenty-four hours,” he stated. I watched him leave the bar and flick his cigarette to the ground.  

That weekend, something odd happened between myself and Alice. We were…

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