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Fuck, this woman. “Listen, you didn’t know my sister.”
“But I know you.”
“Yeah, I get that, but I need to do this on my own.”
“You don’t, though. You think you do, but you don’t. Not when you have someone—when you have me standing here with you.”
“Let me do this on my own.”
“You don’t need to be on your own–”
“Just get the fuck out of here!” I yell. “Christ! Just listen to me.”
Her eyes go wide, and she takes a step back.
I hear the door open behind me. “Is there a problem?”
“No, no problem.” Jenni’s voice sounds defeated. She brings her eyes back to mine. Fuck, she looks so fucking defeated, and I fucking did that.
“I was just leaving.” She shoves her hands in the front pocket of her Devil’s Fury sweatshirt and then turns on her heels and walks away from me.
I take a deep breath to calm my racing heart. I know I’ll need to fix that with Jenni. She sure as shit didn’t deserve my yelling at her.
“Mr. McCoy.”
I follow the doc inside to identify my sister’s body. Once I pass through the swinging doors, I follow her down another hallway.
“We were able to identify your sister through fingerprints. You were listed as her next of kin on all police files.” She looks back at me as she continues along the corridor.
“I’m a little shocked she had me listed at all. It’s been years since I’ve seen or heard from her.”
“It’s not uncommon.”
It may not be uncommon for many, but it is for me. The last time I saw my sister she was just a child.
She pushes through another door, and I follow. The temperature is drastically different from the hall to this room. “Fuck, it’s cold in here.” Bringing my hands to my mouth, I cup them around my mouth, blowing my breath into them.
“It has to be. Some of these bodies must lay in here for weeks to either be claimed or processed. This is where we keep everyone who comes in from the streets. Most are homeless and transients.” Chills run up my spine as the thought that I’m in a room full of dead people settles.
She scans the clipboard hanging on the wall, then walks to the far left and pulls the bottom table out. The sound of the wheels running along the metal track echoes along the walls, stopping with a thud. I watch as the body in the bag teeters back and forth from the motion.
“I need to warn you, Mr. McCoy, she may not look like the sister you knew.”
“The last time I saw her she was only thirteen. I’m sure she’s changed a lot over the last sixteen years.”
She bends down and starts to pull at the zipper, but stops. “I would just like to warn you that your sister has a tremendous amount of scarring on her body from continuous needle usage. She has sores on her face and limbs, and the majority of her teeth have been either pulled or rotted away.”
“You have no idea the shit I’ve seen, Doc. I can take it.”
“All right.” She pulls back the zipper and pushes the plastic open.
She wasn’t fucking joking.
My stomach drops at the sight, and I swear to Christ, if I hadn’t seen my mother’s dead body with my own fucking eyes, I’d think I was looking at her now. She looks like the typical fucking junkie.
“Fuck…” I say under my breath. Reaching out, I touch her lifeless body.
“Is this Betsy McCoy? Is this person your sister?”
