AITA for not believing my wife when she says there is something in the attic?

Verdict: Asshole

Hi everyone, long time lurker, first time poster. My wife, 28 female, is currently refusing to talk to me, 39 male, due to the situation at hand. She is currently no contact with her family for reasons I won’t disclose here, and my parents are refusing to take a side, so I really wanted to get a third opinion. 

For context, we recently got a house built on the property where my family lives. My family has always been farmers, and we live in Appalachia; West Virginia, specifically. I wanted to be closer to my family, and my wife agreed to move out in some place more rural if that meant we could have space for our future children. 

I first noticed this about a week ago. My wife will shake the entire bed when she is getting up, and I know she’s leaving the bed because I can feel her pajamas brush against me. She leaves the bedroom, goes upstairs to the attic, and then I don’t hear her come back down. The stairs creak whenever someone is going up or down them, and she stays up there for at least half an hour to forty five minutes, before coming back downstairs. But instead of coming back to bed, with me, she walks to the basement (which is at ground level), and sleeps on the couch. Whenever i get up in the mornings, the TV is on, but it is just playing static. 

The second night, she did the same thing again, and I asked her what she was looking for up in the attic. She frowned a little, shook her head, and then said: “Uh, well, It’s probably nothing.” She tucked her hair behind her ear before going back to making breakfast. 

The third night, I assume that it happened again. 

This is the conversation we had the next morning to the best of my recollection: 

“There’s something in the attic,” she declared. 

“I was in the attic last night, there was nothing there.”

“No, you weren’t.” 

“I was watching you.” I remember laughing a little. 

She raised an eyebrow at me. “Really, John?” She stabbed a fork against the plate and it scraped, sounding like nails on a chalkboard. My entire body seized at the noise; I swear I could feel goosebumps on the back of my neck. I thought it was funny, but apparently not. 

I told her that she didn’t need to be so cold with me. And she told me that I shouldn’t be so dismissive of her feelings. I asked her if she really felt that there was something in the attic, and that she was going to be all paranoid about it. She basically ignored me the rest of the day. 

The fourth night, I followed her upstairs into the attic. She didn’t really react as I followed her up, even though the steps make this god awful creaking noise. I stood just beneath the floor of the attic, and watched as she rummaged around through our moving boxes. It was really hard to see, because the circular window wasn’t bringing in much light. After about fifteen minutes of this, she was just standing in the middle of the room. She was just standing there, staring at the North West corner. Her eyes were completely unblinking and her mouth perfectly straight. ANd she was just looking. There was nothing in the corner except some shadows, but she was standing there perfectly still. Nothing happened after ten minutes so I went back to bed. 

The fifth night, she went up there again at her usual time. I think. I was sleeping. But I woke up because of a massive wet thump that hit the ground and ricocheted throughout the entire house. I heard her scream, this high pitched squeal thing. I had never heard anything like it before. It almost sounded like she was wheezing too, hyperventilating, like she couldn’t get enough air into her lungs. And then she sort of fell back down the stairs, like this weird stumble. She didn't actually fall, but she claims that she did. 

I asked her about it the next morning, and asked her if she was ok after falling, and she told me again: “There is SOMETHING IN THE ATTIC.”

I told her “no, there isn’t. I’ll go check right now, and I bet you that there will be nothing there.” 

“Do it, then.” She challenged me, “There is something in the fucking attic.”

 “You don’t have to swear at me, it’s really rude.” 

She made a disgruntled, pissed off noise, and rolled her eyes like she was some kind of petulant teenager. 

I went upstairs with a beam light and there was nothing there. Just our cardboard moving boxes. I couldn’t identify what could have possibly made the thump noise from the night before. Everything was in its place as it should be, except for some of my wife's childhood glass animal statues left on the floor and shattered. (But in my opinion, that would make a noise like glass breaking, not the sound of a wet, heavy thump. It almost sounded like a dead body being thrown in a movie.) I came back downstairs and told her that there was nothing up there. That the attic had remained untouched. 

She started yelling at me with all this bullshit. Why can’t I just believe her? Why can’t I trust that she was telling the truth? Why do I think that she’s lying? Why can’t I just be on her side with anything? If I was awake, why didn’t I come and help her when she fell down the stairs? She’s allowed to be rude after I tore her away from city life? 

I don’t get any of it. I never accused her of lying, or that she wasn’t telling the truth. If you ask me, I think it’s sleep deprivation getting to her or something. It isn’t really about me being right, it’s about her being wrong, and there is quite literally nothing in the attic. She didn’t really fall down the stairs, she just sort of stumbled. And I didn’t “take her away from her city life” or whatever, she agreed to come live with me on my parent’s property. I think that she’s just being paranoid. We are in some place very rural and it’s dark. I think her getting up every night and checking in on the attic isn’t very healthy for her and that the move is just getting to her head. I feel like she is letting feelings run the show and that she is not using her logic. There is nothing in the attic.

My wife is absolutely refusing to speak to me now, at all. I asked her what she wanted for dinner and she told me “Whatever you want, John.” All irritated like. Her voice kept tilting up like she was tense. I’m sick to death of her being so bitchy with me, and I don’t understand why, when she keeps checking on the attic when something isn’t there. Her standing there for 45 minutes isn’t good for her sleep schedule and I’m sure it’s exacerbating the situation and making everything so much worse. She’s being a real bitch to me. 

AITA? 

Update 1, 10/09/20xx; She’s still going up into the attic. I tried to have another conversation about it with her today, and she’s still just ignoring me. She is trying to demand that I apologize to her for not believing her. I told her that I would apologize if she could tell me what she was seeing up there. She just kept saying “something” vaguely. and then claimed that I “knew” what she was looking for, because she kept telling me, and obviously I’m not actually listening. I told her that I really didn’t know what it was that she was talking about, and she rolled her eyes at me again. I don’t like that she’s being so flippant with me. 

I told her that I just wanted to have a conversation with her, and tried to gently ask her if she was taking her medications. She huffed at me again, and said: “Don’t turn this into me being crazy,” or something like that. I told her that I never said that she was crazy. When I checked her medication, it was mostly full, and she was refusing to let me talk to her about it. I’m still concerned that she’s being paranoid, that these might be delusions of some kind. 

Anyway, she went upstairs again tonight. Same time as usual. I heard her shuffling her feet around in the attic, and then something being pushed/dragged against the floor. After maybe twenty minutes, everything went completely quiet again. I didn’t hear her come back downstairs like she normally would have, so I went upstairs to go and check in on her. She was standing in the corner of the attic again, but this time she was facing the wall.

I called her name, and she turned to me, really slow. Her eyes were wide, and slightly dilated, like she had taken something that she wasn’t supposed to. “Hey, John.” She took a deep breath, and then followed me back down the stairs. 

I think that we’re both really just exhausted. She did sleep in our bedroom today, instead of on the ground floor, so I guess that’s progress.

Update 2, 10/11/20xx; It seems as though the situation has been handled, thank you everyone so much for your help and your advice1!! 

So here’s what happened: My wife got up again. I woke up at the same time she did, because I felt her leaving the bed, but I didn’t say anything. I’m really sick of her giving me the cold shoulder, but if she can do that, so can I. At least, that’s my mentality. I heard the stairs creaking again, and then the attic door opening. 

There was a noise, something like another muffled thump. 

There was also a noise that could best be described as someone screaming into a hand. But it sounded really really distant. I don’t think it was my wife. Sometimes there are Red Foxes that sneak their way onto the property and try and steal the chicken eggs, and so you’ll just hear something that is almost like human screaming, but not actually. My wife was starting to get me paranoid. 

It was really quiet for a while, so I just had to assume that my wife was standing in her corner, you know, as she’s been doing for the last several nights. After a while, she came back downstairs, and then walked into the bedroom. She seemed really stiff and tense, and she went ahead and laid down on the bed, over the blankets. I asked her why, and she just said that it was because it was too warm. My wife always runs cold, so I found that really interesting. I wonder if she’s coming down with something. 

ANYWAY, I also asked her if she had found whatever it was that was in the attic. She said that she did, and that it should no longer be a problem that either one of us has to worry about. I asked what it was, and she said, “Oh, nothing, don’t worry about it John.” We both started laughing. I think we were really just kind of exhausted. 

This morning, I came downstairs. My wife took some trash bags up to the attic, brought some of the boxes down to put them in the basement, and most of the house seemed clean. She seems to be in a much better mood overall, and she even made me a large breakfast this morning apologizing for her bad behavior. She even smiled and said “Good morning John!” I would have called her smile strained, but she seemed so much happier than usual. Her smile seemed looser, almost elongated. (Give me a little credit, elongated is a big word for me.) I suppose everyone smiles a little differently when they’re tired. Moving is exhausting, amiright? I even got to see her in a dress for the first time in a while, the last time I saw her in a dress was at our wedding, and I really had to fight her for that one. She looks good in a dress. She also keeps smiling with her teeth, over the six months since we’ve moved, she’s only been giving me these tense little smiles that don’t show in the eyes. It’s been really nice.

I’m currently headed outside because some red-brown liquid came out of the pipes this morning, one of the pipes must have burst… maybe it’s rust. I knew I shouldn’t have trusted those contractors. Now I’ve got to fix their fuck-ups. My wife gave me a kiss before we went outside, bidding me a good luck. It felt really nice, actually. Today is very warm, despite it being October, and her lips are always cold. 

Anyways, thanks again everyone for your help, your advice was amazing. I think we’re going to be just fine :D