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“It’s standard procedure, Sadie,” Dr. Morales explains in a soft tone.
“I-I don’t want to,” I strangle out.
I don’t want to see his dead body. The last memory I want to remember is of him holding Sophia and playing dominos with Abuela...alive.
“I’ll be with you the entire time,” Donnie promises.
“I’m not ready, Donnie. Please don’t make me do this.” I shut my eyes and hide my face in his chest, grasping his shirt.
Donnie rubs my back and places a kiss on top of my head.
“I will help you through this, baby. I won’t leave your side.”
“You promise?” I mumble against him.
“Yeah, baby, I promise.”
Dr. Morales exits the room while Donnie helps me into the wheelchair. Grasping his shirt with one hand, Donnie wheels me out of the room. We follow the doctor to the elevator and down to the morgue.
When the elevator doors open leading to the morgue, it’s exactly how they show it in the movies—gloomy and cold. The pungent smell of formaldehyde attacks my senses, irritating the hell out of my sinuses.
“Sadie, this is Yolanda. She is the medical examiner,” Dr. Morales introduces us.
“Hi, Sadie. I’m so sorry for your loss.” A tall woman with her hair pulled back says, a gentle expression on her face.
I swallow a big lump and nod, holding back my tears.
“This won’t take long. All I need is for you to confirm that the body is your brother,” Yolanda explains in a softer tone.
Donnie kneels in front of me with an aura of gray surrounding him. A single tear rolls down his cheek. He brings my hands to his lips and kisses my fingers.
“Are you ready?” he asks, voice thick with emotion.
I nod even though my heart hates the idea of seeing my brother’s soulless body.
Donnie smiles, kisses my fingers one last time, and slowly strokes my cheek.
“Okay.” He leans in and gently kisses my forehead.
He wheels me toward the closed double doors. My breathing picks up, and the anxiety starts to build inside me.
My head begins to pound with tension like a rubber band squeezing the hell out of my head.
My body grows tense to the point of shaking once we are a few feet away from the door—the door Josiah lies behind.
I can’t do this. I can’t do this.
I want to scream, “Stop,” but the words won’t come out.
When the doors are pushed open, I quickly close my eyes, feeling the weight of overwhelming despair and sadness crushing me.
“Shorty, I need you to open your eyes, baby.” Donnie’s voice infiltrates my thoughts, and I want so badly to ignore it.
I don’t want to, Donnie. Please don’t make me.
“I’m here. You’re not alone,” he says.
Donnie’s warm hands cup my face and glides his thumb over my eyelids, forcing them to open. His gaze bores into mine, giving me the strength to push forward. I can do this as long as Donnie is beside me to help pick up my broken pieces.
