Another Man's Wife plus 3 Other Tales of Horror Read Online Free Page A

took his meds. It took months
of recovery and loads of pain medications before the soreness and
swelling were gone completely.
    A year went by, the physical therapy proving
itself as Corbin gained the use of ninety percent of his facial
muscles. He could smile again, the most important thing for him to
be able to accomplish. The right side of his upper lip and right
ear remained numb, the nerves shot.
    Eventually, Corbin had gotten his life back,
reuniting with old friends. He’d apologized for shutting them out,
they understood.
    Throughout his recovery a few news stations
and newspapers wanted to do stories on him, but he refused, simply
saying, “I just want to live a normal life.”
    It took a while for his mother to get used to
her son having someone else’s face, her joy at his happiness and
return to a normal life easily trumped her uneasiness about his
looks. It was her boy on the inside.
    “You may look different,” she told him, “but
you’re more your old self than you’ve been in some time. I’m so
happy for you.”
    Corbin applied for jobs in the interior
design field and landed one quickly, his reputation on work he’d
done preceding him. He’d even met a woman in the logistics
department and they began dating. Life was turning out well for
Corbin, things falling into place, until the blackouts and
nightmares started and changed everything.
    Corbin dreamed of a little girl, dressed in a
black sun dress crying over a grave. A woman, also dressed in
black, stood beside her, tears streaming down her face.
    He’d tried saying hello, but they didn’t see
him. The name on the tombstone was blurry as if he needed glasses,
but everything else was crystal clear.
    Each night, he had a different dream, but
always with the sad little girl and woman being a part it. He’d
awake crying, breathing rapidly as if he’d sprinted a mile. The
sleepless nights began taking a toll, he became increasingly
irritable. Maybe it was the drugs? His doctor had changed them
recently, hadn’t he? He’d make an appointment when he got to his
office the next day.
    The following morning, after another horrible
night’s sleep, Corbin ate a hearty breakfast, scrambled eggs,
sausage, toast with butter and downed a large cup of black coffee.
He left the house and was about to get in his car when he woke up
on his living room couch. He must have been dreaming, but when he
looked at himself he saw that he was dressed for work, briefcase on
its side on the floor.
    He went to the kitchen, the clock read three
p.m. He must have blacked out. Maybe he had felt dizzy and had to
lie down. Possibly he was having a side effect to the new meds.
He’d never had any before. He called the office, told them he was
terribly sick last night and had slept in.
    That night Corbin dreamed, but not of the
little girl and her mother. He was in his car driving across town
and stopped in front of a large white house in Cedar Grove Estates.
He glanced in the rearview mirror and saw his new face, something
that had never happened before. On occasion at seeing himself in a
dream, it was always his original face that starred back at him.
His brain being the only part of him rejecting the transplant.
    He got out of the car and stood staring up at
a large white Victorian, with black shudders and neatly trimmed
hedges. The name on the mailbox read, Weatherly. He got back in his
car, slammed the door shut and woke up.
    He thought nothing of the dream and was
grateful to not have to see the little girl and her mother.
    The remainder of the week flew by with no
unsettling dreams, replaced with good nights of sleep. Corbin had
put the troublesome time behind him until the following Monday.
    He was getting ready for work when he blacked
out again, awaking a few hours later. Overwrought and unsure of
what was happening, he made a doctor appointment and was seen
immediately. His transplant making him a priority.
    At the doctor’s office he received angry
stares and few