My husband constantly made fun of me for not doing anything, then he found my note after the ER took me away

The beast had gone out. It was now storming into the dining room, and I followed it.

« I forgot, I’m sorry. I haven’t been feeling really well lately. »

He didn’t hear me, or he preferred not to.

“What do you do all day, Madison? Sit around while I pay for this house? Seriously, Mad. One job. One shirt. You eat my food, you spend my money, and you can’t even do that! You’re a leech!”

I stood there frozen. My hands started to shake, but I said nothing. What could I say that wouldn’t make the situation worse?

« And your friend downstairs, Kelsey, or whoever, you spend all day chatting with her about God knows what! Blah, blah, blah! But you don’t do anything around the house! »

“Tyler, please…” I whispered. A sudden wave of nausea washed over me, followed by a stabbing pain in my abdomen. I reached for the wall to steady myself. A metallic taste rose to my mouth, the room spinning weakly as if the walls were moving away from me.

He scoffed, put on another shirt, and slammed the door behind him as he left. The echo of his departure lingered in the silence, as vivid as the ache still writhing inside me.

By noon, I could barely stand. Every step felt like walking through water, heavy and slow, as if my body no longer belonged to me.

My vision was blurring and the pain had become unbearable. The tiles seemed to tilt beneath me, a dizzying swell of white light pressing against the edges of my vision. I collapsed in the kitchen just as the boys were finishing lunch.

I remember hearing them scream. The youngest, Noah, started to cry. His small, trembling voice cut through the fog, piercing me with a guilt I was too weak to bear.

My oldest, Ethan, who was only seven, rushed out of the apartment.

I couldn’t stop it, or even speak. I barely remember the sirens or what happened next.