PART 6: The Long Night in the Morgue
PART 6: The Long Night in the Morgue
Morgue lights shine on frozen cradles.
The hospital morgue was colder than I expected.
It didn't smell like bleach or medicine; it smelled like sterile nothingness—an absence of life so total it felt heavy in the air.
A gentle, compassionate nurse named Sarah led me down the quiet, secure hallway behind the administrative wing, guiding me into a private family viewing room lined with soft oak paneling and warm lamplight.
They had prepared her for me.
Lily lay inside a small, white bassinet draped in soft quilted blankets.
Her tiny face was peaceful, the angry bruises from the fall hidden beneath gentle lighting, her dark hair brushed softly against her forehead.
She looked like she was merely sleeping—a healthy, beautiful newborn taking a quiet midnight nap after a long day of nursing.
Except for the absolute stillness.
I walked over to the bassinet, my footsteps making no sound on the carpet, and sank down onto a low wooden stool beside her.
My hands, still marked with dry formula and the scuffs from falling on the floor, hovered over her tiny body for a long moment before I finally reached out and gently touched her hand.
Her skin was cold.
Not freezing, just... stripped of that warm, vibrant spark that had filled our house with life for three short weeks.
“I’m so sorry, baby girl,” I whispered, pressing my forehead against the edge of the white bassinet while silent tears tracked down my cheeks. “I tried. I ran as fast as I could. I brought the police. I made sure she will never, ever hurt anyone else again.”
The door behind me clicked open softly.
I didn't turn around, knowing it was Nurse Sarah or Officer Vance coming to check on me.
Instead, a quiet, hesitant shuffle of shoes stopped near the doorway.
“Emily...?”
It was Daniel.
He looked like a ghost. His shirt was torn at the collar where he had ripped his tie off in frustration, his eyes hollow and red-rimmed. He stood in the doorway, trembling, not daring to step further into the room.
“Please... please let me see her,” Daniel whispered, his voice cracking into a pathetic sob. “She was... she was my daughter too.”
I stood up slowly from the stool, turning to face him.
The grief in his eyes was real. I knew that. Daniel loved Lily in his own weak, compromised way.
But love that lacks backbone, love that bows down to toxic tyranny and sacrifices the innocent to keep the peace, is no love at all.
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“You can have five minutes,” I said coldly, stepping past him toward the door. “And then I want you out of my sight. My divorce attorney will be serving you divorce papers by morning, along with a restraining order barring you and your family from coming anywhere near me, my home, or my daughter’s resting place.”
Daniel didn't argue. He collapsed against the doorframe, sliding down until he sat on the floor, weeping uncontrollably as I walked out into the cool, pre-dawn air of Columbus.
