My Husband's Secret Collection

On our wedding night, my husband, Jeffrey Vance, gave me one absolute rule— Never go down into the basement of our new house. Whenever I pressed him on why, he dodged the question. He would just nibble on my ear, teasing, "There's a monster locked down there. Going in will only bring you bad luck." I tried sneaking down once when he wasn't looking. The moment my hand touched the doorknob, Jeffrey's voice rang out behind me. "Sweetheart, what are you doing?" Startled, I stammered an excuse and ran off. From that day on, I couldn't stop wondering what dark secret he was hiding down there. Then, Jeffrey left on a business trip. While cleaning the house, I found a bloody human finger. Following the trail of crimson drops, I arrived at the basement door, turned the knob, and stepped inside. Dozens of glass jars lined the room, preserving specimens of various parts of my body. From nail clippings he took the first time we held hands, to strands of my hair collected right after sex last night. In the center of the room, a recording device played my voice on an endless loop. "Help, Jeffrey, please don't... it hurts so bad..." It was from last month, when I had my miscarriage—the desperate begging I'd cried out in the operating room. Just as I turned to run, something icy cold touched the back of my neck. "Rachel, you finally found it." "Every time you cry, all I can think about is turning you into the most perfect specimen." My blood froze instantly. Then, a woman's seductive laugh cut through the recording: "Jeffrey, your wife's vocal cords... when are you going to cut them out for me?" I whipped around. Jeffrey stood at the entrance of the basement, holding a scalpel. "You've... been collecting these all along?" My voice trembled violently. "Since day one of our marriage." He took a step forward, his footsteps eerily silent. "You said you loved every part of me, including my professional habits. Remember?" I was a medical student. He was the youngest forensic pathology professor at the university. Everyone used to say we were a match made in heaven. Now, looking at him made me want to vomit. "What about that recording?" I pointed at the equipment in the middle of the room. "The day I lost the baby... why is Chloe's voice on that tape?" Chloe Adams was his ex-girlfriend. She had returned from abroad three months ago and started working at the same hospital. Jeffrey paused, resting the tip of the scalpel against his own fingernail. "Chloe is just fascinated by my research," he said casually. "She wants a complete set of vocal cords for a teaching model. I thought yours would be a perfect fit." "A perfect fit?" I let out a hysterical, tearful laugh. "Jeffrey, I'm your wife!" "And?" He tilted his head, smiling with utter indifference. "Rachel, you're too emotional. Science requires sacrifice." He stepped closer. I backed away instinctively until my spine hit a display cabinet. In the jar behind me was another severed finger, a pinky, still painted with my favorite nude-pink polish. It was the finger I had accidentally sliced while cooking last month. "You want to preserve me? Turn me into a specimen like those dead bodies?" Jeffrey smiled. To me, it was pure nightmare fuel. "You're not like them," he said softly. "You're living art. I'm going to make you my absolute masterpiece." He reached out toward me. I screamed, shoved him with all my might, and bolted for the stairs. The basement door was deadbolted. "Let me out!" I hammered frantically on the thick wood. "You're insane, Jeffrey! This is murder!" He caught me from behind, his lips brushing against my ear. "The law only protects the living." "To me, you're already a gorgeous corpse waiting to be dissected." I thrashed wildly, my nails tearing across the back of his hand. Beads of blood welled up. He lowered his head and licked the blood away, his eyes glazed with obsession. "You're even stunning when you fight back," he murmured. "Pity, though. Time is up." Before I could say a word, a sharp sting pierced the side of my neck. A needle had sunk deep into my skin. As icy liquid flooded my veins, my limbs went numb. Before darkness took me, the basement door clicked open. Chloe entered in scrubs, pushing a surgical crash cart. She leaned over me, smiling cruelly. "Don't worry, Rachel. Jeffrey's technique is flawless. It won't hurt a bit." "Once you're preserved, you'll be by his side forever." Jeffrey took the scalpel from her, resting the cold blade against my throat. I parted my lips, but no sound came out. In my final seconds of awareness, I heard him speak. "In your next life, don't be my wife." "Things that are too easy to keep... just make me want to destroy them."When I opened my eyes, I was lying in our master bedroom. The numbness was gone. I bolted upright and rushed to the mirror. My neck was whole, untouched, without a single scratch. "Rachel?" Jeffrey's voice came from the doorway. A violent shudder racked my frame. He was holding a breakfast tray, his eyes full of tender concern. "Bad dream?" Setting the tray down, he walked over to check my forehead. I jerked away instinctively. His hand froze in midair, his eyes dimming. "What's wrong?" "N-nothing," I stammered, forcing myself to breathe. "Just... a nightmare." "What did you dream about?" Jeffrey sat on the edge of the bed and took my hand. "I dreamed you killed me." I stared directly into his eyes, enunciating every word. Jeffrey froze for a second, then chuckled softly. "Silly girl. How could I ever hurt you?" "You're my wife. You're the person I love most in this world." He looked so sincere, so utterly devoted. If this were before, I would have thrown myself into his arms. Now, the thought made my stomach churn. "Where is Chloe?" I blurted out. "Did she come over last night?" Jeffrey's smile vanished. His brow furrowed slightly. "She was on night shift at the hospital. Why would she be here? You're letting your imagination run wild again." "I heard her voice," I insisted. "Down in your basement." "The basement?" Jeffrey stood up and walked toward the bedroom door. "Let me go check. Maybe you had sleep paralysis and hallucinated." He left the room, and I shadowed him immediately. Jeffrey opened the study door that led toward the cellar stairs. Everything was neat, totally normal. I walked over to where he had stood in my memory, scanning the floor-to-ceiling bookshelf. In my dream, the secret entrance to the underground lab was right behind the third bookcase in the study. I pushed hard against it. It didn't budge. Jeffrey wrapped his arms around me from behind, resting his chin on my shoulder. "What is going on with you? Do we need to see a doctor?" My entire body went rigid. "Maybe... maybe I'm just exhausted," I lied, forcing myself to relax. "I have class today. I need to get ready." On the way to campus, my mind was a chaotic blur. "Rachel!" A hand clapped down on my shoulder. I nearly jumped out of my skin. Spinning around, I saw my classmate, Mia. "What is up with you? You look like a ghost," she asked, concerned. "I heard about your miscarriage last week. Are you still recovering?" I stared at her, stunned. "Miscarriage? Last week?" "Yeah, last Wednesday." Mia looked at me weirdly. "Professor Vance took time off just to take care of you. We were all so jealous." I grabbed her wrist. "What's today's date?" "April 18th. Why?" In my memory, yesterday had been April 25th. I had traveled back in time—a whole week before I was murdered. I couldn't focus on a single lecture all day. My mind was consumed by images of those specimen jars and Jeffrey holding that scalpel. When the dismissal bell rang, my phone buzzed in my pocket. It was a text from Jeffrey: Chloe's treating us to dinner tonight to celebrate her promotion to attending physician. Don't forget to come. I stared at the screen, my fingers turning to ice. If my memories were real, this dinner was a trap. If I refused to go, Jeffrey would get suspicious. After a long hesitation, I typed back: Okay.When I arrived at the restaurant, they were already there. They sat by the window, heads leaned together, looking at the same phone screen. Chloe was giggling, and Jeffrey had an easy, affectionate smile playing on his lips. The scene made my eyes sting. "Rachel's here!" Chloe spotted me first, waving warmly. "Come, sit down!" "Have you two been waiting long?" I took the seat next to Jeffrey. "No, we just got here ourselves." Jeffrey naturally slid an arm around my waist and kissed my temple. "Why are you still so pale? Didn't you get enough sleep?" His touch was warm, loving. Yet I could feel his palm lingering against my ribs just a little too long. Measuring me. "The meds probably haven't worn off yet," I said flatly, locking eyes with him. Jeffrey's smile faltered for a fraction of a second. "What meds?" Chloe chimed in, her gaze probing. "Post-miscarriage recovery pills," I said, looking away. "Jeffrey prescribed them. He said they're good for me." It was half-truth, half-lie. Jeffrey had given them to me, but I knew their true effects all too well. They made me constantly drowsy and weak. They weren't just for recovery. "Professor Vance is so thoughtful," Chloe sighed, resting her chin on her hand as her eyes lingered on Jeffrey's face. "Whoever marries you must be the happiest woman alive." Jeffrey didn't correct her. He just smiled politely. Throughout the meal, Chloe kept sharing stories from the hospital. Jeffrey listened intently. They looked far more like a couple than we did. Suddenly, Chloe turned to me. "I heard you're prepping for your medical licensing exams? If you need study materials, I can lend you mine. Jeffrey put together a whole set for me back then." "No need," I said evenly. "Jeffrey already prepped a set for me." "Oh, but that's different." Chloe blinked innocently. "Mine has Jeffrey's handwritten notes. Lots of exclusive clinical insights." She was blatantly provoking me. I glanced at Jeffrey, but he was busy cutting his steak, not even looking up. "Those are old notes. Rachel is better off using updated material." Midway through dinner, Chloe stood up to use the restroom. As she pushed her chair back, she bumped into her wine glass, sending red wine splashing all over my dress. "Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry!" she gasped. "It was an accident! Rachel, are you okay?" Jeffrey immediately grabbed a napkin to wipe it away. Suddenly, his hand froze. He was staring intensely at my lower calf. I looked down. There was a faint, jagged scar from a childhood fall. In my memories of last night, the patch of skin bearing that scar had already been stripped and sealed in formaldehyde. "What is it?" I asked. Jeffrey snapped out of it, his expression unreadable. "Nothing. Just remembered that scar of yours. It's unique." His thumb traced the line of the scar. The touch was gentle, yet it sent a wave of revulsion down my spine. "I'm going to clean up," I said, pulling my leg away, and headed toward the restroom. "Rachel." Chloe's voice called out from behind me. I looked up into the mirror and saw her leaning against the doorframe. "Need something?" "Just wanted to give you a piece of advice." She smiled coolly. "Some things don't belong to you. Clinging to them is pointless." "Like what?" I turned to face her. "Like Jeffrey Vance." Chloe took two steps closer and dropped her voice to a whisper. "Why do you think he married you? Because you look like me. You sound like me. You even look like me when you cry." "You're just my stand-in, you poor, naive thing." Her words were meant to stab straight into my deepest insecurities. Instead of breaking down, I let out a dry laugh. "Really? Then why didn't he just marry you?" Chloe's face twisted for a split second. She leaned in close to my ear, her breath icy cold. "Because he couldn't bear to slice me up into specimens and hang me in the basement to admire."When we stepped out of the restaurant, Jeffrey's car was waiting out front. "Where's Chloe?" "She drove herself." Jeffrey slipped into the driver's seat and leaned across the console to buckle my seatbelt. "What do you want to do tonight? Catch a movie, or head home and rest?" His thumb grazed my collarbone, pausing there for a second. That measuring touch again. "Let's go home. I'm tired." "Rachel, you're acting strange today," he said suddenly. "Am I?" I stared out the window at the blurred city lights. "You've been pulling away from me since this morning." Jeffrey's voice was soft, but the tension underneath was suffocating. "Did Chloe say something to you?" I turned my head and met his gaze dead-on. "She said I'm just her replacement." Jeffrey's grip on the steering wheel tightened until his knuckles turned white. He slammed on the brakes at a red light. "And you believed her?" he asked in a low voice. "I don't know what to believe. Jeffrey, do you love me?" I had asked him this question dozens of times before. In the past, he would always kiss me softly and say, "Of course I do." This time, he stayed silent. The light turned green. The car behind us honked impatiently. Jeffrey hit the gas. A long time passed before he finally spoke. "I do." "But there are many kinds of love, Rachel." "The way I love you... might not be the way you want." It was vague, but it was all the confirmation I needed. Back at the house, Jeffrey said he had to go down to the basement to prep for tomorrow's lecture. I watched him pause in front of the study bookshelf. He reached out and pushed a heavy medical dictionary. The bookshelf slid open with a muted hiss. I dug my nails into my palms, using the sharp pain to keep my head clear. Once he stepped inside and the shelf slid shut, I crept silently to the hidden door. Faint voices drifted through the seam. "She's getting suspicious," Chloe's voice said from inside. "The way she looked at me at dinner tonight wasn't right." "Your provocations were too obvious," Jeffrey replied, his tone devoid of warmth. "I told you not to spook her." "Give it a few more days, until I collect the final set of physiological data." "Are you sure it'll work this time? You botched it last time." "Last time was an accident," Jeffrey said, his voice dropping below freezing. "Her getting pregnant threw off all my plans. Her vitals changed completely. But now she's back to peak condition." "So that's why you had me trigger her miscarriage?" Chloe asked. "Cold-blooded, Jeffrey. Sacrificing your own kid." "Science requires sacrifice," Jeffrey repeated, the very words that haunted my nightmares. "Besides, children can always be replaced. A flawless specimen, once missed, is gone forever." I sank to the floor against the doorframe, my limbs going numb. Tears spilled silently down my cheeks, but I clamped my hand over my mouth, refusing to make a sound. "So when are you going to do it?" "Tomorrow night," Jeffrey said, a trace of twisted excitement in his tone. "I've perfected the anesthetic cocktail. It will keep her fully conscious throughout the procedure, entirely aware, but completely paralyzed." "The vocal cords are yours. The rest... belongs to me." "Deal." Their voices carried on, but I couldn't listen anymore. I sprinted into the bathroom and dry-heaved over the toilet. Wiping away my tears, I picked up a scalpel from the vanity with trembling hands and aimed it straight at my heart. The second the blade pierced my chest, a dark, unsettling smile crossed my lips. "You want my body for your collection? Then I'll show you—the living are far more terrifying than the dead."