“Nothing is wrong,” she said with a laugh. “New mothers get emotional.”
Something felt wrong.
On the fourth day, I chose to come back without telling anyone.
I bought diapers, pastries from Hannah’s favorite bakery, and a small green blanket for Owen.
When I pulled into the driveway, the front door was slightly ajar.
The house smelled stale.
The television was blasting from the living room.
Patricia and Courtney were asleep on the couch under heaps of blankets.
Dirty dishes were scattered across every surface.
A cold fear moved down my spine.
I hurried toward the bedroom.
Nothing could have prepared me for the sight inside.
Hannah was lying completely still on the bed.
Her skin had turned gray.
Her lips were dry and split.
She looked as if she had been left alone for weeks.
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