**"Descent Into Madness"**

I burrowed deeper into the bed, silently begging for sleep to claim me. Every night, it was the same. The same restless routine. Nothing ever changed. I pulled the comforter tighter around me, willing its plush embrace to lull me into a false sense of security. But, as always, sleep refused to come.

Not again. I couldn't even remember the last time I’d slept through the night. Hours of tossing and turning bled into frustration, and with a huff, I flung the covers aside. No use fighting it. I hadn’t had real sleep in what felt like months. Not since the incident…

Pushing the thought away, I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and forced myself to stand. No point dwelling on the past. Let sleeping dogs lie. I shuffled down the hall toward the kitchen, hoping a glass of milk and a few cookies would help. The rich taste of chocolate chip soothed me, and as I finished the last bite, an unexpected yawn slipped from my lips. Maybe now—just maybe—I’d finally get some rest.

I rinsed my dishes and trudged back to the bedroom.

"Hey, handsome. Are you finally coming to bed?"

Her voice was warm, teasing. She pulled back the blankets and patted my side of the bed, inviting me in. I didn't need to be asked twice. Seeing her lying there, draped in the silky red nightgown I loved, made my heart stutter. Without hesitation, I launched myself onto the bed like the floor was lava. This. This was what I needed.

She laughed softly as she pulled the comforter over us, pressing her body close to mine. The sweet scent of coconut shampoo filled my senses, and I inhaled deeply, memorizing it. I wrapped my arms around her, enveloping her small frame against me.

"I love you," I whispered into her hair.

She was colder than I expected. A chill ran down my spine. But as she nuzzled into my chest, breathing me in with every slow inhale, I didn’t care. I loved this woman.

Entwined in each other, I let myself drift. My eyelids grew heavy, my breathing slowed, and for the first time in what felt like forever, sleep finally welcomed me. I sighed in relief. My ice-cold queen was in my arms again, and there was nowhere else I’d rather be.

---

**Seven Weeks Later**

Detective Hughes pinched the bridge of his nose before pulling a stained yellow handkerchief from his pocket. It had once been white—years ago. Now, it was the sickly shade of bile, worn by time and too many crime scenes. No matter how many cases he worked, he’d never get used to the stench.

"What do we have here?" he asked, his voice gruff.

Officer Lim turned toward him, shaking her head. "Tragic case," she said solemnly. "Gregory Dune. Thirty-nine years old. Hasn't been seen in weeks. Neighbors assumed he’d gone out of town to visit family." She exhaled sharply, gaze shifting toward the bed. "That is… until the smell started."

Detective Hughes followed her stare. The figure on the bed barely resembled a man anymore—just a heap of decaying flesh sinking into the stained sheets. Hughes stepped closer, squinting.

"What's he holding?" he asked.

"A silky dress, I think. Or maybe a bedsheet—it’s hard to tell."

"Foul play?" Hughes pressed. "What’s this guy’s story?"

Lim hesitated before answering. "No signs of forced entry. From what we’ve gathered, he was a loner. Kept to himself. Barely spoke to anyone." She brushed a stray piece of lint from her uniform before continuing. "His wife went missing over a year ago. They pulled her body from the lake in the spring. No suspects. But after that, he shut down. Quit his job. Barely left the house. And, well… no one’s seen him since."

Hughes exhaled through his nose, gaze lingering on the decomposed figure. "And no one ever will again," he muttered under his breath.

Louder, he said, "Bag him up. Send him to the examiner—see what else we can find out about our poor ol’ boy."

Another day, another case.

With a sigh, Detective Hughes turned away, making his way toward the kitchen.