Chris Cerulli's best female friend has been Melanie Dawson since they were in childhood. They never ever saw themselves as anything more than that. They had an absolutely wonderful friendship together though. After being friends for over twenty-five...
Melanie stood in the morgue, her weight shifted to one leg, her white lab coat beginning to fall off of her right shoulder. Melanie adjusts it, then hugs her clipboard to herself, crossing her arms over it as she talked to the man and woman in front of her, keeping a straight look on her face and speaking with a monotone kind of voice that she always referred to as her "business voice". It was the kind of voice that she used to talk to clients and her superiors, and fellow employees that she didn't know very well.
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A man and a woman stood before Melanie, listening to her as she talked. The woman was shaking and had tears running down her face, and the man looked like he could explode at any minute, but was trying very hard to keep a calm composure. This part of the job was certainly a detriment. A lot of the time, Melanie did very interesting things at work. She examined things like removed tumors underneath of microscopes, she performed autopsies on the deceased; her job was fascinating.
Having loved ones come in to identify bodies, however, sucked ass.
Melanie raised a hand to brush a stand of her red hair out of her face, as her long locks were starting to fall out of its bun after a long day. Melanie's bright, blue eyes did their best to avoid direct contact with the people in front of her. Melanie knew that if she looked into the eyes of the people in front of her, she'd see absolute brokenness. So, Melanie returned her hand to her side, hugging her clipboard to herself still, not wanting the two people in front of her to see the pictures and notes about the deceased. It would just stress them out more. Melanie continued talking to them with her monotone "business voice", explaining to them the circumstances.
"Now, the body of the boy that was found does appear to be about your son's age...I will only be showing you his face, as the rest of his body as some...damage, to it."
"Damage?! What do you mean damage?!" The man yells. Melanie didn't flinch though. She was used to this, and would likely be yelling too if she were going through something like this with Sadie. The woman just kept crying.
Melanie continues, "Why don't I just let you have a look?"
Melanie sets her clipboard down, face down. She then walks over to the table where the body lay with a sheet over it. Melanie takes the top part of the sheet and brings it down a few inches to reveal the face and neck of a dead, eight year old boy, covered in scars and bruises. Melanie wouldn't let the couple, who may have been this boy's parents, see the rest of what was under the sheet. Partly because the damage that had been done to the boy would likely make the couple vomit, and partly because Melanie had performed an autopsy on this boy yesterday before the authorities had found his parents to see if the autopsy would help give any information on who this boy was and how he died; to see if the pieces of the story fit together. Seeing the boy that may have been their son with stitches all down his chest and stomach would likely also be unsettling to the couple.
The woman begins to tremble even more as Melanie takes a step back. The woman looks up at the ceiling, not wanting to see if it was her son on the table because if it was, she would really be admitting to herself that he was gone.
