The officer’s words were an echo in my ears as I stood up from the icy chair, my legs shaking beneath me. As if in a trance, I let go of Emily’s pale hand, brushing my fingers over her bruised knuckles for what I knew might be the last time. With a deep breath to steady myself, I left the ICU, her fragile form fading behind me with each step. I had to see what the officer wanted—what new nightmare awaited.
The ride back through the rain was a blur, each raindrop hitting the windshield like a nail in a coffin. The wipers struggled to push away the relentless downpour, much like my mind struggled to process the reality around me. Emily’s words played over and over in my head like a broken record: “The silver… I didn’t polish it right…” The triviality of the reason behind her suffering was a bitter pill to swallow, made all the more unbearable by the vision of her lifeless eyes.
When I arrived at the bus stop, it was a scene I hadn’t anticipated. Several police cars were parked haphazardly, their lights casting eerie shadows across the rain-slicked street. An ambulance idled nearby, its back doors open and waiting. Crime scene tape fluttered in the wind like a ghastly banner.
