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My Wife Pranked Me With Her Severed Hand Novel Cover

My Wife Pranked Me With Her Severed Hand

After eight years of marriage, Alayna Watson’s penchant for childish pranks had become a routine part of her husband's life. He usually dismissed her trick toys without a second thought, but a routine house cleaning uncovers a forgotten box that changes everything. Expecting another joke, he is instead met with a putrid scent and a severed human arm. Following a frantic call to the police, a DNA test delivers a chilling revelation: the limb belongs to his own wife.
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Chapter 2

It was a severed hand.

Cleanly cut at the wrist, the flesh had turned a bruised, blackish-purple, and fluid was oozing from the edges.

It looked like maggots were already writhing around the wound. The horrific stench and the dark fluid were all coming from this.

My mind went totally blank, and with a sharp scream, I hurled the box away.

The thing rolled out onto the floor, giving me a much clearer view.

It belonged to a woman. A ring was clutched on its ring finger, and the knuckles were frozen in a horrific curl, as if it had been hacked off while the person was still alive.

My immediate instinct was to find Alayna. With trembling fingers, I scrambled for my phone and dialed her number.

Once. Twice. Three times.

No one answered.

The repetitive ringing echoed through the empty house, making the surrounding silence feel deafening.

My heart was hammering so hard it felt like it would burst out of my throat.

Crying, I kept redialing the number. "Alayna, pick up… Come on…"

Until finally, the automated operator cut in. "The number you have dialed is switched off."

The sudden realization jolted me back to reality, forcing a shred of logic back into my panicked mind.

I stared fixedly at the severed hand as a million terrifying thoughts raced through my head.

The rot, maggots, and blackened flesh proved that this was absolutely not a prop.

Taking a ragged breath, I gave up on Alayna's phone and moved my finger to the dial pad, punching in 911.

The moment the call connected, I tried my best to steady my breathing, but my throat was so tight it throbbed with pain.

"911, what's your emergency?"

"I need to report something! I think… the prank prop I have at home is a real human hand…"

The second the words left my mouth, I realized just how terrified I actually was.

My voice shook violently, and my tongue felt knotted. It took me several minutes just to make myself understood.

The dispatcher on the other end remained completely calm, instructing me to stay exactly where I was and not to touch a single thing. "Officers are already on their way to your location. Please keep the line open."

When the call ended, the house plunged back into a deathly stillness. This silence was far harder to endure than before.

It took me a long time just to gather the strength to crawl up from the floor, but my gaze kept darting toward the storage room.

I was terrified that something else might crawl out of the dark at any second.

To keep from losing my mind, I forced myself to stare blankly at a tissue box on the coffee table.

Every ticking second felt like an eternity.

If it weren't for this nightmare, I would be happily counting down the hours until Alayna came home. But now, my mind was consumed by suspicion and dread.

Finally, the doorbell rang. I flinched, my scattered thoughts instantly snapping back.

"Police, open up."

My legs were pure jelly as I rushed over to unlock the door.

Two uniformed officers, a man and a woman, stepped inside looking weary from the road.

The male officer, who looked fairly young, scanned the living room before addressing me in a gentle tone. "You're the caller, Mr. Charlie Collins, correct?"

I nodded frantically and stepped aside to let them in.

The female officer was already snapping on a pair of latex gloves, asking me where the object was.

"Over there." I pointed toward the storage room, my voice still cracking.

She walked over. The moment her eyes fell on the severed hand, her entire posture stiffened.

As she kneeled down to inspect it, the male officer tried to soothe me. "Try not to panic. You mentioned it's a prank prop. I know some of these items are made to look and smell incredibly realistic these days. We've dealt with false alarms like this before…"

But any hope of comfort was instantly shattered.

"It's not a toy," the female officer called out. "I can confirm this is a real human hand."

Her definitive words sent a violent chill running straight down my spine.