Ava stared up at the high white ceiling of her bedroom.
The air in the grand house felt heavy and ice cold.
Her head throbbed with a sharp pain behind her eyes.
She adjusted the white bandage wrapped tightly around her forehead.
A terrible fever had kept her trapped in bed for three days.
Her husband Julian had left early for an important business trip across the state.
He promised to call the family doctor before he boarded his morning flight.
Ava reached out her trembling hand toward the glass of water on the nightstand.
Her fingers bumped the heavy crystal glass and spilled water across the dark wood.
The bedroom door creaked open with a sudden harsh scrape.
Mrs. Marshall stepped into the room with her arms crossed over her chest.
Her mother-in-law did not carry a tray of soup or a warm blanket.
Instead, her eyes narrowed as she looked down at Ava's pale face.
Mrs. Marshall: Look at this mess you made on the expensive nightstand.
Ava: I am sorry... my hands are shaking so badly today.
Mrs. Marshall: You are always making excuses to stay in bed and look helpless.
Ava: The doctor said I need complete rest until the infection clears up.
Mrs. Marshall: Doctors say whatever you pay them to say to keep you lazy.
Ava pulled the soft quilt tighter around her icy shoulders.
She missed Julian more than ever in this lonely house.
When Julian married her two years ago, his mother had pretended to be kind.
But the moment Julian turned his back, the older woman showed her true face.
Mrs. Marshall walked closer to the side of the king-sized bed.
She leaned down until her cold breath touched Ava's burning cheek.
Mrs. Marshall: The house clean-up crew is coming at noon today for lunch.
Ava: I cannot stand up without feeling dizzy and losing my balance.
Mrs. Marshall: You will get up and cook a full meal for everyone.
Ava: Julian left money for caterers to handle the household meals.
Mrs. Marshall: I canceled those expensive caterers to save my son's hard-earned money.
Ava felt a lump of fear rise in her raw throat.
She glanced at her black cell phone resting on the edge of the dresser.
If she could just reach it, she could dial emergency services for help.
Mrs. Marshall noticed Ava's eyes tracking toward the shiny phone screen.
She took two quick steps and blocked the dresser with her tall body.
Mrs. Marshall: Do not even think about calling Julian to whine about a small headache.
Ava: It is not a headache, my blood pressure is dangerously low right now.
Mrs. Marshall: You're not dead yet! Get up and cook!
Mrs. Marshall grabbed the corner of the thick cotton nightgown near Ava's shoulder.
She pulled the fabric hard, trying to drag the sick woman out of bed.
Ava let out a weak cry as her head spun violently from the movement.
The fabric tore with a loud rustle in the silent room.
Ava slid toward the edge of the mattress, clutching the sheets tightly.
Mrs. Marshall did not offer a helping hand as Ava gasped for air.
She simply stepped back and adjusted the gold watch on her thin wrist.
Mrs. Marshall: You have thirty minutes to get down to the kitchen.
The mother-in-law turned on her high heels and stalked out into the long hallway.
Ava lay on the mattress, her heart pounding against her weak ribs.
She knew she could not survive another day under this woman's cruel control.