“Uncle, help me! Mommy’s been sleeping for three days, and there’s a weird SMELL!” the neighbor’s little girl cried out.
Marissa let out a deep sigh and, taking her doll, went to play in the next room. Mommy was sleeping—she shouldn’t be woken up. She gets very tired at work, Marissa explained to her stuffed animal friend.
The doll blinked its big blue eyes as if agreeing with its little owner. But the doll couldn’t understand that five-year-old Marissa, raised by her single mother Olivia, hadn’t gone to preschool for two days because there was no one to take her. Olivia and her daughter lived alone after the divorce from her husband.
Olivia worked as a cashier in a grocery store. It was a 24-hour supermarket, so her shifts alternated between day and night. Sometimes she even had to work overnight. During those times, the neighbors—Uncle Brian and Aunt Irene—took care of Marissa.
They fed the little girl and made sure she went to bed on time. Olivia would return from her night shift, eat breakfast, shower, and then go to sleep. That day, too, she went to sleep—but this time, she never woke up.
Marissa was actually happy she didn’t have to go to preschool. She curled up next to her mommy and quietly fell asleep too. Later, she woke up, shook her mom’s shoulder, but when there was no response, she headed to the fridge.
She took a sausage and warmed it in the microwave all by herself. After that, she played with her doll and watched some TV.
But mommy was still asleep. Evening came, and still no change. Marissa decided it was time to go to bed again.
The next day, Olivia still hadn’t woken up. The fridge was empty, except for a dried piece of bread in the basket. Marissa didn’t yet know how to use the stove to boil water for tea.
She was very hungry, but her mommy wouldn’t wake up, no matter what she tried. She shook her, splashed her with water—but nothing worked.
Marissa cried a little, then curled up next to her mother again and fell asleep. A ray of sunlight and the rumbling of her stomach woke her up. She sat on the couch, looked at her still-sleeping mom, and sniffed the air.
It didn’t smell like her mom’s perfume. There was a sweetish, strange odor. One she had never smelled from anyone before. She touched her mother’s hand and was shocked by how cold it was.
And her palm—once rosy and soft—was now stiff and bluish. “Uncle Brian, help me. Mommy’s been sleeping for three days, and she smells funny.” The little girl knocked on the neighbor’s door.
Despite it being 6 a.m., the sleepy neighbor, alerted by the little girl’s visit, stepped into their apartment—and froze.
Brian stood frozen in the doorway, staring at the scene before him. On the bed, Olivia lay facing the wall, and the room was filled with a scent unmistakable to someone who’d worked years as an ER nurse.
“Marissa, come with me,” he said gently, holding out his hand. “Let’s go to our place. Aunt Irene will make you some warm tea and sandwiches.”
“But Mommy?” the girl asked, glancing back at the bed where Olivia lay unmoving.
“We’ll take care of your mommy,” Brian replied, doing his best to keep his voice calm, though his heart was pounding. “Right now, you need to come with me.”
The little girl hesitated, looking back at her mother again.
“Why won’t she wake up? Is she sick?”
Brian swallowed hard, searching for the right words.
“Yes, Marissa. Your mommy is very sick, and we need to call a doctor. But first, I want you to come with me.”
Gently, Brian led Marissa into the neighboring apartment, where Irene, alerted by the noise, was already waiting at the door—her hair messy, her eyes filled with concern.
“What happened?” she whispered when she saw the serious expression on her husband’s face.
Brian gestured for her to be quiet and leaned in to whisper:
“Olivia is dead. I think it’s been a few days. Call an ambulance and the police. I’ll stay with the girl.”
Irene covered her mouth in shock, tears welling in her eyes.
“Oh my God… has the little one been alone this whole time?”
Brian gave a solemn nod, then turned to Marissa, who stood in the middle of their living room clutching her doll tightly.
“Marissa, have you eaten anything this morning?”
The little girl shook her head.
“The fridge is empty. Mommy didn’t wake up to go shopping.”
“I see. Let’s get you something to eat, and then you can play with some of the toys we have here. How does that sound?”
Marissa nodded, and Irene, quickly wiping away her tears, began preparing a hearty breakfast for the hungry child. Brian stepped out onto the balcony to make the necessary calls.
When he returned to the kitchen, he found the little girl eagerly eating scrambled eggs and toast while Irene gently brushed her tangled hair, talking to her softly about simple things to keep her distracted.
“Will someone come to help my mommy?” Marissa asked between bites.
Irene and Brian exchanged a quick look.
“Yes, sweetheart,” Irene replied. “The doctors will be here very soon. They know exactly what to do.”
“Does Mommy need special doctors?” the girl continued.
Brian sat beside her, trying to find the right way to explain one of life’s hardest truths to a five-year-old.
“Marissa, your mommy…” he began, but was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell.
Irene went to open the door. Two paramedics entered the apartment, followed closely by two police officers.
“Where is the patient?” one of the paramedics asked.
“In the apartment next door,” Brian said, gesturing to the neighbor’s door. “But please… be discreet. The little girl is here and doesn’t know yet.”
The paramedics nodded in understanding and quietly went to Olivia’s apartment. One of the police officers, a kind-looking woman in her forties, approached Marissa.
“Hi, Marissa. My name is Anna. I’d like to talk to you for a bit, if that’s okay.”
The little girl looked at her curiously, then nodded.
“About Mommy?”
“Yes, about your mommy—and about you, too. Can you tell me what’s happened over the past few days?”
With the innocence of her age, Marissa told her how her mommy had come home from work, eaten, and gone to sleep. How she’d tried to wake her up but failed. How she made herself food until there was nothing left to eat.
Anna carefully took notes, occasionally asking more questions, while the other officer returned from Olivia’s apartment, speaking quietly with Brian in the corner.
“Marissa, do you have any aunts or uncles? Maybe grandparents who live nearby?” Anna asked.
The little girl thought for a moment.
“Grandma Ellen lives far away, in a village. We only go there in the summer. And Daddy… he left a long time ago.”
Anna exchanged a look with her colleague, who was now on the phone—probably contacting Child Protective Services.
“I see. For now, you can stay here with Uncle Brian and Aunt Irene, if they’re okay with that. I’ll try to contact your grandma.”
“Of course she can stay with us,” Irene said, stroking the girl’s hair. “As long as she needs.”
Anna smiled gratefully, then turned back to Marissa.
“Marissa, I have to tell you something important. It’s not easy to say, but I think you’re a very brave girl, and you’ll understand.”
Marissa looked up at her with wide, innocent eyes, clutching her doll tightly.
“Your mommy isn’t just sleeping anymore. She’s gone to a place from which she can’t come back.”
“She left without me?” the girl asked, confused.
“She didn’t want to leave, sweetheart. Sometimes our bodies get so tired that our hearts stop beating. When that happens, people go to a special place where they don’t feel pain or exhaustion anymore.”
Tears welled up in Marissa’s eyes.
“But who will take care of me?”
“Many people,” Anna said, taking the girl’s hand gently in hers. “Uncle Brian and Aunt Irene for now, and maybe soon your grandma. And we, the police, will make sure you’re safe.”
Marissa sat still, processing the words. Then slowly, a tear rolled down her cheek.
“Mommy will never come home again?”
“Not with her body, sweetheart. But many people believe that those who love us stay close to us, even if we can’t see or touch them anymore.”
Marissa closed her eyes tightly, and the tears began to flow more freely. Irene sat beside her and hugged her, gently rubbing her back.
In the days that followed, Marissa’s life changed completely. Olivia’s body was taken to the morgue, where it was determined that she had died from a brain aneurysm—a sudden and painless death. Child Protective Services got involved, and Grandma Ellen was contacted. She rushed to the city.
Brian and Irene helped as much as they could, even offering to adopt Marissa if Ellen couldn’t care for her. But Ellen, though elderly, was a strong and determined woman, ready to raise her granddaughter.
“She’ll be better off in the countryside,” she said. “Fresh air, animals, other kids to play with. And she’ll never have to be alone again.”
On the day Marissa was to leave with her grandma, she came to say goodbye to Brian and Irene.
“Thank you for taking care of me,” she said with a maturity that broke Brian’s heart.
“Will you come visit us?” Irene asked, struggling to hold back tears.
“Grandma promised we’ll visit every month,” Marissa replied. “And she also promised to tell me stories about Mommy every night so I’ll never forget her.”
Brian bent down and hugged her tightly.
“You won’t forget, Marissa. And you know what? I think your mommy would be very proud of how brave you’ve been.”
Marissa gave a sad smile, then held out the doll she had clutched during those horrible days.
“I want you to keep Anabelle. That way, you’ll always have a piece of me here.”
Irene took the doll, speechless, nodding as tears streamed down her cheeks.
As the car carrying her grandma turned the corner, Brian and Irene stood in front of the building, holding hands. Their lives had been changed forever by this tragedy. And though Marissa would grow up far from them now, a part of their hearts would always be tied to the little girl who showed remarkable strength and dignity in the face of heartbreaking loss.
That evening, in her new country bed, Marissa lay listening to her grandma tell stories about her mom as a little girl.
“And you know,” Ellen said, stroking her hair, “your mommy had the same big, curious eyes. And that same smile that could light up a whole room.”
“Do you think she can see me now?” Marissa asked, looking toward the window where stars began to appear in the dark sky.
“I’m sure she can,” her grandma said, kissing her forehead. “And I’m sure she’s very proud of her brave little girl.”
Marissa smiled and closed her eyes, imagining her mommy among the stars, watching over her. And for the first time since her mommy had fallen asleep forever, Marissa felt she wasn’t alone.