Snowbound Punishment: A Six‑Year‑Old's New Year's Eve
Wendy Lloyd's first love, Hudson Clark, treats me like a walking blood bank. Because of that, I end up dying in the rented apartment Wendy has given to me out of contemptuous pity.
Today is the third day of my death. My six-year-old son, Terry Heath, finally realizes that something is wrong with me.
When he accidentally cuts his finger from playing with his toys, I don't coax him at all.
When he tears open a pack of cookies and feeds one to me, I don't stop him at all.
When he lies in my arms and grips me by the hem of my shirt while calling out to me softly, I don't respond to him at all.
Feeling rather uneasy, Terry finds my phone and calls Wendy.
"Mommy, why is Daddy still asleep?"
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