Slip

The Tragedy

It was raining and June was supposed to be home hours ago. I was concerned and when the phone rang I knew the worst had come to pass. My world shattered. "Margo Nook?" asked a professionally trained sweet voice from the other side of the line.

"Yes," I replied, tears already welling up in my eyes.

"June Nook was brought in about ten minutes ago-" I dropped the phone, already on my way to the hospital.

I arrived within 20 minutes of the wretched phone call and was greeted at the front doors by Dr. Ashcroft, George, and Shane. Dr. Ashcroft was dark haired with a somber violet gaze. The temperature was cold -or maybe it was just the shock - but I was shivering. "Ms. Nook, I'm glad you made it," said Ashcroft, "if you will both follow me."

He led us into the hospital which was full of people. The air felt warmer, but my quivering continued. The smell of antiseptics and the sounds of screaming victims was the only thing keeping me grounded. Ashcroft's words were a far off echo.

We reached the end of the hall and silence fell. The elevator lurched as we began our descent down to the bottom floor - the morgue. George stepped out first, shaking and sobbing in his lover's arms. Dr. Ashcroft, however, waited with me, "Ms. Nook?"

I turned to face him slowly, becoming aware of his Old Spice scent. I stared first at his feet before moving my gaze across his chest. We locked eyes. The metallic doors rang to a close, but we didn't move. "Yes?" I whispered.

"I understand this is very difficult for you," he said in a low, velvety voice. It was calm, measured, and melodic. "If you would like to wait here..."

"No." I shook my head despite the excruciating effort it took to do so. My whole body was sluggish and stiff with the weight of my grief. "I need to see her." I whispered. Dr. Ashcroft noticed my knees trembling before I recognized it myself. I collapsed but he immediately supported my weakness with ease. "I'm sorry."

"Think nothing of it." He pushed the door open button and led me down the hallway. Ashcroft's arms were strong and I couldn't remember the last time I had felt so safe or comforted.

The morgue was freezing, but I was numb by then. The metal drawer slid open with a rolling clang. June's ghostly face looked up at me, her mummy costume ragged and blood stained. George wailed at the sight of her and turned away, but I couldn't. I needed to understand. I placed her petite hand in mine, stroking the stiff fingers with my thumb. "How?" I forced the word from my mouth painfully. My throat felt like it had swollen shut.

"Crystal Gacey... She must have been aiming for Black Stoat but hit June." My head hurt. My eyebrows knitted into a hard wrinkled line.

"Close it please," said Shane, his voice cracking.

Dr. Ashcroft did. I hesitantly allowed June's hand to slip from mine. "I'm sorry for your loss," he said.

In a split second, nothing meant anything anymore. My daughter was gone. "Thank you, Doctor..." I left the three men and returned home.

Once I arrived, I headed to June's room and stood in the doorway staring blankly inside. She had been surprisingly organized for a child. There was very little on the floor. The shoes at the side of her bed were carefully placed. The room was well lit with shaggy green carpet and plain white walls. A soccer ball sat on top of some clothing that had fallen out of the wicker hamper. It smelt like her - baby powder and sugar with a splash of citrus. June had loved oranges and lemons. I slid down the door frame, pulled my legs into my chest and cried while I hummed her lullaby.

A few weeks later we had June's funeral. I was placing my only child in the ground. I spoke but it came out in incoherent sobs. The cemetery was full of fallen leaves and the sky was overcast. George had done most of the planning, but when Black Stoat stepped up to the podium it all fell apart.