She was always a firm believer that life went on, no matter what. But now she can't remember what life used to be like. And it's only been three days.
Izzie wills herself to fall back to sleep. Without her job, now she can sleep all she wants to, which is a lot. It's hard to get out of bed now; like her muscles are all limp and can't handle any exertion at all. It even takes effort sometimes to open her eyes, especially during the day, when sunlight seeps through the window.
The shade is down, but there's a crack where she can see the window and a sliver of trees and grass and living things. That small ray of light spreads across the room, falling directly on Izzie's face when she's lying on the right side. She wishes she could get up and close the shade completely, but she doesn't have the energy.
It's not pain she's feeling right now. Izzie hasn't felt pain since that initial shock of finding him, cold to her hands and blurry through her eyes. Now what she feels is more of an extreme indifference. There is no need to work, because she quit. There is no regret for quitting either. She doesn't feel like she's wasting time, because she can't sense time any more. She doesn't even feel lonely, alone in the house.
There's nothing to do but sleep and stare at the ceiling. There's nothing to feel, nothing to see, no life to go on with.