Read Online The Body Mafia by Stacy Dittrich - Free Book Online
Authors: Stacy Dittrich
Tags: Fiction
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myself mercifully succumbing to darkness.
I don’t know how long I was out—maybe twenty minutes, maybe an hour. When I opened my eyes, I was in my bedroom, and an emergency medical technician was zipping up his bag on the floor next to my bed. My father, the sheriff, and two men in suits stood around me. I bolted upright, my heart racing, and grief ripped through me like a torrential downpour.
“Michael! Where’s Michael?” I knew, but I wanted someone to tell me it had been a dream.
“Cee, baby…” My father, his voice quiet and hesitating, sat next to me on the bed and took my hand. The frown lines on his face made him look like he’d aged ten years.
“Oh God! Nooo!” My chest heaved forward and the reality of my irrevocable loss kicked in.
My father held me tightly to his chest while I screamed, cried, gagged, and hyperventilated. I kept praying over and over that I was having a nightmare. I remembered when I was young, I’d had nightmares that were so real, no one could ever convince me thatI had been asleep. I was silently begging someone to tell me that was the case now.
But no one did, and I didn’t wake up with Michael next to me. Michael was dead, and the thought of never seeing him again was too much to bear. For one of the first times in my life, I didn’t think I would be able to survive the blow. Of all the unfortunate and deadly situations I had found myself in, ones where I knew that no matter what, I would go on, this topped them all. Only when I heard my father soothingly whisper the names of my two daughters did I begin to get it together.
“Cee, honey, I know this is hard, but you have Selina and Isabelle to think about. You have to be strong for them. They need you,” he said softly, while still holding me tight.
Sitting still and trying to take deep breaths in between sobs, I visualized their faces, and Sean’s. Sean, who was the spitting image of his father and the light of his life, would be forever devastated. Even Selina and Isabelle had grown to love their stepfather in a way that would take them both to the brink. My father was right. Those three children needed me more than ever right now, and I had to be strong for them. But at that moment, they weren’t here, and I would allow myself to grieve.
I hadn’t noticed when Naomi and Coop walked in, or when Naomi went and got a cold washcloth, until she gently placed it on my face. Looking up, I saw her own eyes were red and puffy, tears streaming down her cheeks. We were all such close friends, the four of us. We had been through so much together. I knew this was hard for them as well. She knelt down beside the bed.
“CeeCee, I’m so sorry,” she whispered between sniffles.
I could only nod and wipe my face with the soothing cloth. My head was pounding from the mother of all migraines, and my eyes were so swollen I could barely see. I continued taking deep breaths as my father left the room, while everyone else stood in silence, the pity in their eyes bearing down on me. When my father came back, it dawned on me he was in uniform. He must’ve heard the call go out over the police scanner and rushed right over. He handed me a small glass with brown liquid in it.
“What is it?” I asked groggily.
“Straight whiskey. Drink it—it’ll help you calm down.”
I’d once had a very bad experience with whiskey, and even as I smelled it, the nausea in my stomach churned like an out-of-control washing machine. However, after a couple small sips, my body began to relax, if ever so slightly. Laying my head back on my pillow and looking up at the ceiling for a moment, I realized the two unfamiliar men in suits were still in the room, their faces somber.
“Who are you?” My voice was almost inaudible.
The tall, elderly man in the dark navy blue suit stepped forward. He looked to be in his late sixties and had thinning gray hair and glasses. His face was as somber as everyone else’s, but I noticed he had kind
I don’t know how long I was out—maybe twenty minutes, maybe an hour. When I opened my eyes, I was in my bedroom, and an emergency medical technician was zipping up his bag on the floor next to my bed. My father, the sheriff, and two men in suits stood around me. I bolted upright, my heart racing, and grief ripped through me like a torrential downpour.
“Michael! Where’s Michael?” I knew, but I wanted someone to tell me it had been a dream.
“Cee, baby…” My father, his voice quiet and hesitating, sat next to me on the bed and took my hand. The frown lines on his face made him look like he’d aged ten years.
“Oh God! Nooo!” My chest heaved forward and the reality of my irrevocable loss kicked in.
My father held me tightly to his chest while I screamed, cried, gagged, and hyperventilated. I kept praying over and over that I was having a nightmare. I remembered when I was young, I’d had nightmares that were so real, no one could ever convince me thatI had been asleep. I was silently begging someone to tell me that was the case now.
But no one did, and I didn’t wake up with Michael next to me. Michael was dead, and the thought of never seeing him again was too much to bear. For one of the first times in my life, I didn’t think I would be able to survive the blow. Of all the unfortunate and deadly situations I had found myself in, ones where I knew that no matter what, I would go on, this topped them all. Only when I heard my father soothingly whisper the names of my two daughters did I begin to get it together.
“Cee, honey, I know this is hard, but you have Selina and Isabelle to think about. You have to be strong for them. They need you,” he said softly, while still holding me tight.
Sitting still and trying to take deep breaths in between sobs, I visualized their faces, and Sean’s. Sean, who was the spitting image of his father and the light of his life, would be forever devastated. Even Selina and Isabelle had grown to love their stepfather in a way that would take them both to the brink. My father was right. Those three children needed me more than ever right now, and I had to be strong for them. But at that moment, they weren’t here, and I would allow myself to grieve.
I hadn’t noticed when Naomi and Coop walked in, or when Naomi went and got a cold washcloth, until she gently placed it on my face. Looking up, I saw her own eyes were red and puffy, tears streaming down her cheeks. We were all such close friends, the four of us. We had been through so much together. I knew this was hard for them as well. She knelt down beside the bed.
“CeeCee, I’m so sorry,” she whispered between sniffles.
I could only nod and wipe my face with the soothing cloth. My head was pounding from the mother of all migraines, and my eyes were so swollen I could barely see. I continued taking deep breaths as my father left the room, while everyone else stood in silence, the pity in their eyes bearing down on me. When my father came back, it dawned on me he was in uniform. He must’ve heard the call go out over the police scanner and rushed right over. He handed me a small glass with brown liquid in it.
“What is it?” I asked groggily.
“Straight whiskey. Drink it—it’ll help you calm down.”
I’d once had a very bad experience with whiskey, and even as I smelled it, the nausea in my stomach churned like an out-of-control washing machine. However, after a couple small sips, my body began to relax, if ever so slightly. Laying my head back on my pillow and looking up at the ceiling for a moment, I realized the two unfamiliar men in suits were still in the room, their faces somber.
“Who are you?” My voice was almost inaudible.
The tall, elderly man in the dark navy blue suit stepped forward. He looked to be in his late sixties and had thinning gray hair and glasses. His face was as somber as everyone else’s, but I noticed he had kind
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