Chapter 4

Some said three days.

Some said a week.

Some said it depended on when the neighbors started smelling the rot.

At the time, I thought:

*That won't happen to me.*

*I have a husband.*

*No matter what, he would find me, right?*

Now, I knew the truth.

He wouldn't.

He would just think I was throwing a tantrum.

Being dramatic. Playing dead.

And even when I was actually dead.

He still wouldn't believe it.

The next morning, Ethan got up and made breakfast.

The sound of eggs sizzling came from the kitchen.

The delicious aroma drifted in.

It used to be my favorite smell.

"Hazel, wake up. You're going to be late."

Ethan called out from the kitchen.

No response.

"Hazel!"

Still no response.

"Seriously, every single day."

Ethan walked out of the kitchen holding a plate of fried eggs.

He glanced at the bedroom door.

He didn't walk over.

He picked up his phone and sent me a text:

"Are you getting up or what? I don't care if you're late."

The message was sent.

No reply.

He sent another one:

"Hazel, don't push me."

Still no reply.

He slammed his phone on the table.

"Unbelievable."

He packed his things.

And went to work.

The house fell completely quiet.

Only I was left.

Lying in the dark room.

At ten in the morning.

Sarah, my manager, called.

Ethan answered.

"Ethan, why isn't Hazel at work today?"

"Oh? She's not there?"

"No, she hasn't showed up."

"That's..."

Ethan's voice sounded confused.

"She was throwing a fit last night and locked herself in the room. I thought she left for work on her own this morning."

"You should go home and check on her right away."

"Okay, I will."

The call ended.

But Ethan didn't go back immediately.

He told his coworkers he had an errand to run.

Then he kept working on his tasks.

It wasn't until noon.

That he finally drove back home.

When he walked through the door, he was still complaining.

"Hazel, you better come out. We are having this out today."

He walked to the bedroom door.

He pushed it open. The lights were off.

The curtains were still drawn.

It was pitch black.

He reached out and flipped the switch. The light came on.

I was still lying on the bed.

In the exact same position as yesterday.

I hadn't even changed my clothes.

The swelling had gone down a bit.

But my lips were even darker now.

A deep purple, almost black.

"Hazel?"

Ethan's voice changed.

He realized something was wrong.

I would never skip work just to throw a tantrum.

No matter how mad I was, I would never skip work.

Because I knew the consequences of missing work were serious.

So I always got up on time, went to work on time.

No matter how miserable I felt.

But this time, I hadn't gotten up.

Ethan finally walked closer.

He reached the side of the bed.

He reached out and pushed my shoulder.

"Hazel? Stop scaring me..."

My body moved.

Stiff, ice cold, like a block of stone.

Ethan jerked his hand back.

He stared at my face.

Stared at my swollen features.

My purple lips.

My curled fingers.

His pupils dilated in sheer terror.

"Hazel!!"