Until Harry(75)

Both my brother and Kale got into the car, and neither of them spoke to each other, or to me, as Lochlan backed out of the garden and drove to the hospital. It was the longest car journey of my life, but in reality it was only a few minutes. When we got there, Kale came into the hospital with me and did the talking at reception when I just stared at the lady who was asking me stupid questions.

He got permission for us to go to the family room at the back of the hospital near the morgue, and we walked together in silence.

“Say something, Lane,” he pleaded.

I swallowed. “I have to see Lavender.”

We came to a door with “Family Room” printed very clearly on it, and Kale lightly knocked. A few seconds later, a man opened the door, a man with bloodshot, swollen eyes, a man who was Lavender’s father.

“Mr Grey,” I whispered when I walked into the family room.

Mrs Grey, who was sitting in the middle of the room, surrounded by some other women, looked up when I entered the room, and when she saw me, she burst into tears and got to her feet. I instantly walked to her and encased her in my arms, holding her body to mine.

“She’s gone, Lane,” she cried into my chest.

My heart squeezed with pain, but for some reason, no tears came.

Not even one.

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered, and gently swayed her from side to side.

I sat down next to Mrs Grey and her other family members while Kale hovered by the doorway, watching me with a sad expression. I turned my focus from him to Lavender’s family, and I listened as they spoke about what happened to her.

She was driving home from her shift at work, and a drunk driver ran a red light and slammed into the driver’s side of her car, causing a blow to her temple that killed her instantly. My stomach threatened to revolt as I listened to the details that the police passed on to Lavender’s family, so I tried to block them out.

“Mrs Grey,” I said.

She looked at me.

“May I see her?” I asked, praying she wouldn’t deny me.

Her lower lip wobbled as she nodded. “We’ve seen her already, she doesn’t look injured at all.”

I stood up and asked, “Where do I go?”

Kale cleared his throat. “I’ll bring you. I saw a sign pointing to the morgue.”

I hugged Lavender’s parents, said goodbye to her family, then left the room with Kale. We followed signs to the morgue, and when we reached it, I told the man outside the double doors that I had permission to see Lavender.

I gave him her full name, and he passed the information on to a staff member inside. He told me to wait a few minutes, and then I’d be allowed in when they were ready to show her. I thanked the man and lingered outside with Kale.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked me.

I was never surer of anything in my life.

“I have to see her,” I replied.

He was quiet for a minute or two, and just as he was about to speak, the double doors to the morgue opened, and I was told I could go see Lavender.

“Wait,” Kale said as I began to walk forward.

He grabbed hold of my hand and said, “You don’t want to see her like that, Lane. You think you do, but you don’t.”

I pulled my hand from his. “You don’t know a thing about what I want, Kale. You never have.”

I turned away from him and walked through the doors that led to the morgue. I nodded to the man who allowed me entry, and I followed a different man wearing a long white coat into a very cold room. I hesitated for a few seconds at the entryway of the room, but I walked through the doors. When the sight of my friend lying on a steel bed came into view, I placed my hand against my stomach in silent prayer for it not to spill.

I walked slowly over to Lavender, keeping my eyes on her beautiful face, and not on the white sheet covering her body. When I was next to her I reached out and placed the back of my fingers against her cheek, my heart squeezing with pain when I felt how cold she was. She had died only a few hours ago, but already her body was drained of heat, and it was hard to bear because I knew how much she hated being cold.

“How did you get here, Lav?” I whispered to her.

When she didn’t reply, my lower lip trembled.

I could see the point on her temple where she had been struck. It was discoloured and looked a little dented, like something had crushed into the side of her skull. It was comforting knowing she had felt no pain, and she looked like she was sleeping, but my heart knew otherwise. Her cold skin was paler than I had ever seen, and her lips weren’t pink anymore; they were a pasty white colour.

The bruising on her forehead and the rest of her face didn’t look that bad, but logically I knew it was because she was dead, and that meant her body wasn’t working anymore. Her heart wasn’t pumping blood to give a distinct colour to her skin any longer.

I didn’t know how long I stayed with her, but when I kissed her and left the room, I was shivering with the cold. Kale, who was sitting on the floor where I’d left him outside of the morgue, jumped to his feet when he saw me return.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

I shook my head but said nothing.

“Darling,” he murmured.

“She’s really dead,” I whispered. “I touched her. She is really cold, her skin is sickly pale and she has no heartbeat. She’s not moving, she’s so still . . . just lying there with a little white sheet over her body.”