A/N: I couldn't resist this prompt.
"You still smell like him. Go wash again," my husband says, with an apologetic smile and a pitiful look in his eyes.
I keep my lips together as I finish tying his tie. Then, I step back and let out a deep breath. My husband grabs his suitcase from the couch and runs his fingers through his hair, all the while keeping his gaze fixed on me.
"I didn't know," I reply, trying to hide the sadness in my voice, "I'm sorry, I-"
He sighs, "There's no need to apologize, love."
I take a deep breath, noticing that the stench still lingers. It's a mix of perfume and something rotten, an overpowering and nauseating smell that makes me feel sick. The putrid odor of decay has suffocated the sweet scent of flowers, creating a sickly-sweet aroma that clings to my clothes. The smell is thick and heavy, like a miasma of rot that makes me want to retch.
"My love, are you okay?" my husband asks, looking concerned, "You don't look-"
I nod and wrap my arms around my body, "I'm fine. I just got a bit overwhelmed."
Overwhelmed by the scent I will never forget, by the mix of beauty and terror, of life and death.
I look up and smile, "Have a nice day at work."
He seems uncertain, but then he moves closer to me and smiles, before kissing me deeply. "I'll be back tonight, okay?"
"I promise. I love you," he smiles.
"I love you too," I reply.
And with that, he leaves.
Once the door shuts, the house is filled with an oppressive silence. It's as if all the noise in the world has been sucked away, leaving behind an eerie emptiness that feels like it's closing in on me.
It wasn’t always like this. It didn’t always feel like the quiet was a presence all on its own. I walk towards the basement, ignoring the deafening hush that seems to swallow everything in its path. Every footstep, every breath, and every rustle of my clothing is amplified, making me feel like I'm the only one left in a world devoid of life and noise.
Once I reach the basement, I notice the door is slightly ajar, the putrid stench even stronger as it wafts out from the darkness. I don’t hesitate to push it open and step inside. Then I close the door behind me, finally finding peace from the haunting silence.
The air is thick with the smell of rot, a never-ending symphony of decay that plays in my mind. A big smile makes it’s way to my face when I see him, lying on his bed, still as beautiful as ever.
I walk towards him slowly. Flowers and toys that once brought him joy surround the bed, untouched. I begin to wonder if he has gotten tired of them. Does he not like them anymore? I want to ask. I want to know. But he doesn’t respond when I speak to him anymore.
He looks different. His skin is pale and his eyes were hollow. He is a grotesque masterpiece of decay. His once-vibrant flesh is now mottled with green and black, dotted with puss-filled sores. A thick, cloying scent seeps from his body and maggots crawl over his flesh, feasting on the remains, their tiny bodies writhing in a disgusting dance.
I brush the cobwebs from his hair and look into his eyes. They were once bright and full of life, but now they are empty, sunken orbs that seem to stare into the void. His lips are pulled back in a final, silent scream, exposing his yellowed teeth in a twisted smile.
I dip my hand into my pocket and take out my phone. Then I call my husband. He picks up immediately.
“My love, are you okay?” he asks.
I nod, before realizing he can’t see me. Tears fill my eyes, and I bite my bottom lip to hold back from crying. "Yes, but I was just wondering if you could buy some new toys on your way back. Our son isn't playing with these ones, and I don't know what to do. I can't... I'm..."
"Calm down, breathe," my husband says softly. "I'll get the best ones I can find. He'll love them. I promise."
I wipe away my tears and sniff, "Okay, thank you."
"I'll text you when I get to work, okay?" he says.
"Okay, I have to go too," I murmur, mindlessly straightening my son's clothes. "I still smell like him. I'll go wash again."
