What Happened, I Asked The Police And Later The Psychiatrist.

The mirror showed a reflection that wasn't my own. It was barely visible. I believed it was a woman. But I didn't think it was me. Then I thought, it was the mirror that got fogged up because of my shower. But how could that be me when hands are clearly on the mirror and mine are not?

I open the door and yell, “Honey, help! Come here quickly!” I keep watching the figure in the mirror. When my husband arrives, it is too late as the fog has cleared, and gone are the hands on the glass.

As I explained to Paul what I just witnessed he looked at me, then the mirror again, and then he helped me into the bedroom to rest. He clearly doesn't believe me. As the morning went on, I didn't believe what I saw either.

I thought as I was resting, am I losing my mind and then I thought about how I could recreate the experience easily enough by taking another shower.

I slip into the bathroom and run the water in the shower and soon the steam fills the room. I step into the shower and the very next thing I see are my hands on the shower glass. I am being forced there by something or someone standing behind me.

I can smell an odor. I turn my head to see an ogre of a man. Holding me in place. I scream and my mouth is covered by a huge hand.

I realize I cannot move, and I cannot scream. When is my husband going to check on me, I think in a panic. There appears to be nothing I can do, when suddenly, his hand slips just enough for me to bite down, and then in another breath, I am hollering as loudly as I can in his ear.

No husband. I think just then, he has killed my husband or done something to him so that he cannot help me. I start to do all the things I was taught in the self-defense class that I went to with my daughter when she first went to college.

Stomp on the top of his feet. As he loosened his grip, I swung around and clapped both of his ears with my hands as hard as I could and then clawed at his eyes. Then I do a couple more things I learned in the class and as he was wincing in pain and falling I get out of the shower and run.

I didn't get far when I saw my husband with his head on the table in the dining room. He was motionless. I knew he couldn't help me.

I ran out the door and, on the way out, grabbed my coat. As I was running and screaming down the street, a car pulled up. I don't know how long I was out there but it seemed like forever. Thank God I thought. I quickly ran to the car and jumped into the car without a second thought.

I scream, call the police. I think a man just killed my husband!

When the police arrive, the man is gone and so is my husband!

They take me to the hospital and in my hospital bed they explain to me that I would be under observation for a few days. What about my husband I ask. It was explained to me that just an hour ago he was found in a newly dug grave in my backyard. I started screaming then and yelling, no, no, how could anyone hurt my husband, he was such a gentleman.

Guards are posted at my door and when a few days go by, they remove the guards, and I am told that it is best for me to spend some time in a sanatorium and that they would be transporting me there later that day. I was expecting a nursing home-type facility and I found that I was in a psychiatric hospital. They don’t believe me. Maybe I belong here.

Is this what it feels like to be crazy? Who killed my husband? Am I safe here?

The next morning, as I was getting coffee by the nurse’s station I read in the headlines of the staff newspaper, “Woman suspected of murdering her husband in the shower. Currently in a psychiatric hospital to determine if she is fit to be tried for murder.”

I hurried back to my room and lay on the bed, and I cannot believe it. How could this have happened? Did it happen as it says in the paper? I was given some medication this morning and I am soon asleep. I can hear my husband’s voice in the distance. Am I going to join him, I think? Next thing I know someone is shaking me.

I wake up and it is Paul. I have never been so happy to see anyone in my whole life. Was it all a dream?

No, it was not a dream. Apparently, I did kill an intruder in our house in the shower. My husband was frightened that I might go to prison, so he took him outside and buried him in the backyard. He was so distraught he took a walk back to the river behind our house. He then drove to get some flowers to plant on the grave.

When he got home the grave was dug up, I was gone and the body was missing. He didn’t know what to do, so he spoke with an attorney and together they went to the police.

The police held my husband as they assumed that he killed the intruder and buried him in the backyard to cover it up. When his story checked out, they let him out of jail and told him where I was and he proceeded to drive to the hospital I was in.

The murder was self-defense and my husband would be charged with his part. The man who broke in did hit my husband over the head and knock him out. He had a bump on his head but was clear and not injured beyond that. They thought the bump on the head may account for the rush to bury the man.

I was still upset and relieved when speaking with the psychiatrist and my husband. The psychiatrist agreed to release me to my husband and we went home! I never want to relive the horror of those two days!