To Calibrate a Dying Heart

My skin had turned a waxy, pallid gray. My lips were a bruised purple, my eye sockets deep, dark hollows.

The bracelet on my wrist flashed its useless red light, a corpse's final, futile protest.

My body began to emit the faint, chemical odor of protein decay.

Soon, the smell would grow stronger. Too strong to ignore.

I used to hate that smell more than anything.

But now, I could only float at the ceiling, watching my own body rot.

"Go away," I tried to command the smell, but I had no voice.

The body was slowly decaying, a pool of dark fluid beginning to seep onto the carpet beneath it.

I no longer felt nauseated.

This wasn't so bad.

At least there was no more pain.

I whispered to the pathetic form below.

"Don't be afraid. You can't feel anything anymore. It will all be over soon."

The morning sun streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, falling on my already stiff corpse.

From the kitchen came the sizzle of top-grade scallops searing in a pan.

The aroma of seared scallops and black truffle snaked through the central air vents, poisoning the entire penthouse with its richness.

It was my favorite scent. Caspian only had the kitchen prepare it when there were important guests.

"Good," Caspian said, sitting in the living room drinking his coffee, a cruel smile playing on his lips. "Let's see if this can lure her out."

He was doing it on purpose.

He wanted to use my favorite food to tempt me out so I would apologize.

I floated near the ceiling, looking down at my body.

My skin now had a greenish tinge, my eye sockets were sunken, and dried black blood was caked at the corners of my mouth.

If I were alive, that scent would have had me scrambling to the door, begging for forgiveness.

But I was dead. The dead feel no hunger.

"Caspian!" Miley's voice suddenly erupted from the holographic projection, full of false drama. "What is that putrid smell? It's pouring out of Haven's studio!"

It sounded like she was pinching her nose, her voice muffled.

"Is she having another emotional breakdown in there? Ruining that expensive Persian carpet?"

Caspian put down his coffee cup, his face immediately darkening.

"What smell?"

"It's horrible! It's like... like something rotted!" Miley gagged theatrically. "I smelled it a little yesterday, but today it's making me want to throw up!"

Yes. Something had rotted.

Me.

Overnight, my corpse had started to emit a noticeable stench.

Human tissue decays quickly.

My husband's face turned ashen.

He strode toward my studio and stopped outside the door.

"Haven!" he roared, banging on the door. "How dare you throw a tantrum by defiling your own room? Do you think these filthy, primitive tactics will make me submit? It's illogical!"

His voice was trembling, not with anger, but with disgust.

I floated by the door, watching his face twist in disgust.

It's no use, Caspian. Shouting is useless.

I can't hear you anymore.

"Let her cool off in her own stench!" Caspian turned, about to walk away. "We'll see how long this irrational defiance of yours can last!"

Just then, Julian entered the apartment.

His nose wrinkled as he stepped inside.

"What is that smell?" Julian covered his nose and mouth. "It smells like… like rot. Like something died in there."

Hope flared in my heart again.

Julian! You can smell it!