I shuffled along the pavement with my hands stuffed in my kangaroo pocket. I kept my eyes down on my shoes as if the weight in my heart was dragging it down. Something felt wrong—the sky was particularly dark and ominous for nighttime. I then heard a shrill sound that confirmed my gut feeling.
I quickened my pace into a run, the wind blowing my wet hair around my ears. The wailing sirens shattered the stillness of the night. It brought life to every kind of fear the people of this neighborhood had. It was a lonely, shrill, devastating sound that permanently dented peace, the calm and the hope of its residents. The wind chilled to the bone and goosebumps dotted our skin. The trees swayed as if paying homage to a funeral song only they can hear. The air was damp from the rain a few minutes ago. There were no stars, only dark, somber clouds gliding across the cold evening sky.
The spinning, alarming lights of the ambulance illuminated the street and houses awoken due to the awful siren. A few people covered in thick blankets huddled at the side of our house, speculating on the scene of many possibilities. Everyone within my line of vision were just figures, indiscernible silhouettes. Vague descriptions of them came to mind. "She's the woman who gives free eggs to her neighbors." "He's a teacher at the local school." Everyone that should be familiar to me, was not. I paused and squinted in the darkness; I couldn't see what I was looking for.
My face was streaked with dirt and my eyes were wide as I tried to search for the body; the physical shell of a person whom we all loved so much that our hearts ached with it.
"What happened?" I demanded of the figure nearest me. I couldn't see much of her in the darkness, but I knew from her small and hunched frame that she was old. "What happened?"
She was sobbing so hard, I could only make out a few words, but one was all I needed to hear. "...dead…"
I saw a group of people who looked a lot like paramedics. I heard someone call my name, but I was too occupied to register who it was. The lack of light made it difficult to see and distinguish, and I ran, not caring that I bumped into people. I needed to see the body. I needed to confirm what I already knew.
And then I saw it.
The paramedics carted a body covered with a gray blanket towards the ambulance. The sobs around me grew louder.
I ran straight for the cart; I didn't care that my leg screamed in pain with each step. Even though I knew that the worst has happened, I knew who was underneath that sheet of gray—I had to make sure with my eyes. There was a part of me that desperately hoped the body would be someone else's. It was a cruel thought, but I couldn't help it. Anyone but the person I knew to be under the blanket would do. Anyone.
I was seconds away from grabbing the blanket away but hands engulfed me, yelling at me to stop. I couldn't hear them. I didn't know who they were. I violently struggled free from their grip, ignoring their urgent pleas for me to stop, and ripped the sheet away.
I yelled angrily at the sky, enraged that no deity heard my plea.