I head towards the morgue. It seems as if the door I'm walking towards keeps moving farther and farther away.
I knew that my parents were most likely dead- but I really didn't. I didn't prepare myself. I had always told myself that they would be found- alive. My throat closes up, and I start to panic.
So I take a deep breath.
I open the door.
A woman, late forties, stands in the ailseway between two sheet covered examining tables. She looks at me sympathetically.
She lifts the first sheet. I inhale sharply, tears starting to blur my vision. I feel like I can't breathe.
"My mother." I say strangled. Blonde hair, short. It had always bounced lively when she walked. Eyes that were once an expressive bright green.
And now she was lifeless. She barely even looked like herself- it was obvious that she was rotting away. I couldn't bear to look at her, and yet I couldn't look away.
The ME puts the sheet back over the remains of Sandra Bianchi.
She then walks around to the next table. Lifts the sheet.
"My father." I swallow pack my pain and my tears. It was all so surreal.
The man that was Anthony Bianchi was now a rotting corpse like my mother. He used to be a very good looking man. My dad came from an Italian family- so combine the accent, dark hair, dark eyes, and he was a knockout.
But now he was disformed looking. I looked away. Images were now stuck in my mind- images that I could never get out. My parents were now cold and tinted blue. They were really dead. It was really all over. My head was buzzing with one question: How?
The ME put the sheet back down.
"What was the cause of death?" I ask wiping my tears away. (For now- I would have a good few days cry when I got back home.)
She looks at me as if sizing up my ability to handle the truth.
"They were both shot in the head with a .45 caliber pistol. Execution style. They were then dumped in the Potomac River. They were only found because one of the bodies was found on shore by a boat that was giving tours. We then searched and found the second body nearby. I'm sorry." She said clipped and formal.
I nod as if I understand, as if it's okay.
I exit the building, my careful facade starting to crumble. I call Captain.
"I'm taking leave."