Pace was one of those men that you never thought existed until you met him. Handsome, gentle, lovely. And I was lucky enough to have him love me back.

He always attributed his manners to the fact he had been raised by his grandmother. His parents had been killed in a tragic accident when Pace was a child and she had raised him herself. She had accepted me instantly when he had brought me home to meet her. Not too soon after that we were married and I was the happiest woman on Earth. I was living the fairytale dream most girls have when they're little. A perfect husband, a lovely mother-in-law, a beautiful house in a wonderful neighborhood. It was all perfect.

Until that night.

Pace's job required that he travel. The weather was bad the night he left and I had tried to urge him to wait until morning, tried to tell him I had a bad feeling. He'd insisted that going early would give him time to visit a long lost relative, calming my fears with reason until I gave in. With a long kiss and longer hug he assured me that everything would be fine and he'd be back in just two days.

Three days passed with not as much as a call from him and I grew frightened. Pace was nothing if not punctual. By the time his car had rolled into the driveway I was near hysterics, running out of the house with tears in my eyes, holding him to me as tears of relief ran down my face. He had seemed strangely amused by the fact I was crying but I hadn't paid any mind, too grateful to have him in my arms. Weather had been bad, he said, the phone lines down. Hadn't dared leave his relative's place until the next day. I was too happy to pry any further and ushered him in to the house.

That same day he seemed almost like a stranger in his own home, asking where things that he used every day were. I wrote it off to stress, he had been on a long trip. He was tired is all. All that mattered was that he was here with me.

Throughout the week the more things that came up the more things I explained away. Pace's entire demeanor seemed to have changed. He still looked like himself, as handsome as ever, but that's were the similarities ended. He listened and paid attention to me but it was in a way that made me feel like I was an interesting insect about to be squashed. His kindness had all but vanished, acting as though our friends were strangers to be despised. 
He was tired is all. He'd had a long three days, that's all. I kept telling myself that.

Last night I awoke in the middle of the night, laying on my back as I normally did. I hadn't opened my eyes, wanting to go back to sleep....But then I noticed Pace wasn't in his usual spot beside me. Peeking through my lashes, I saw a shape at the end of the bed, barely outlined by the moonlight that filtered in through the window but was distinctly human. Before I could react I realized that it was Pace, crouched on the end of the bed with his arms wrapped about his legs, chin resting on his knees, just staring at me. For the first time in my life I was afraid of him. I lay there willing myself to stay still for fear he'd realize I'd seen him. 
I drifted off at some point, and this morning I convinced myself it was all a dream. Just a dream.

Pace's grandmother's calling, as she does weekly. One of the first things she asks is "How was Pacey's trip to Shady Grove?"
"Shady Grove?" I ask, "He didn't go to Shady Grove. He went to visit a relative..."
"Oh honey, Pacey never told you? Dear, Pace has a brother. We don't like to talk about him much. You see, Jeffrey was put in Shady Grove when they were boys. He told me last week he was going to visit him on his trip. The road went right past..."

I'm not sure what else she said, a voice on the television taking my attention away from the phone. A voice saying "Officials are still searching for the inmate who escaped Shady Grove Psychiatric Hospital almost a week ago."

Slowly I hang the phone up, realizations sinking in as panic and agony rear their heads in unison within me. No. Please, no. I didn't want to believe it. But the alarm bells had been ringing all this time, they'd started ringing the night Pace hadn't came home. I'd been ignoring them this whole time. All the weird behavior. The completely new personality. I had explained everything away, turning a deaf ear to my own common sense because I didn't want to believe something was wrong with my darling. My prince.

"Sweetheart." There he is now. Oh, he even has my Pace's voice. And he walks just like him, the same gait, the same steps.
"Honey. I have something for you." And he even used the same pet names. The same as my darling. Turning to face him, it's just like looking into my Pace's face. The same hair and eyes...Though the expression in them is quite different. How had I looked over it? And his smile is more menacing.
"Here. See? This is for you." 
Pace would never hold a knife like that. 
But he does sound just like my husband. I loved...Love my husband. Why hadn't I listened to the alarm bells? They were deafening now. I didn't want to hear them now. I wanted to hear and pretend, as I had been pretending all week, that the voice soothing me now was my Pace's.

At least the bells would go quiet soon.