She had seen dead people before.
In fact, most people in the line before her had seen dead people. The unfortunate thing was that it came with the territory of being a cop. Still, she had chosen this job, and she did well at it. She didn't necessarily enjoy it all the time, but she was usually able to push that aside and do it anyway.
She stared at his face, stoic and unmoving, and she felt her hands begin to shake. She blinked slowly, and suddenly there was another person in front of her, waiting to hug her. She felt yet another pair of arms wrap around her, and she had to reign her temper in. She had been standing here for hours, being hugged and told that they were so sorry for her loss. She didn't want to hear it. She was tired of standing, cranky, and all she wanted to do was curl up under her covers and scream until she couldn't anymore.
She found that she couldn't even cry. Her eyes were completely dry, unlike most of the people there. Most people were sobbing, others sitting somberly and staring at the body. But not her, oh no, not her. She couldn't feel anything. She didn't want to, because feeling was so much harder than whatever she was doing. She was sure that later, when everyone was gone, she would feel and cry and scream and sob. But so far she hadn't. And she wasn't planning to as long as everyone was watching.
"Natara?" It took her a moment to recognize the person in front of her, though she should have done so immediately. Despite what she had just promised herself moments ago, she found her eyes becoming misty, and it took all of her will power not to burst into tears right then.
"Oh, Neha," she wailed, throwing her arms around her sister. "He's gone. He's actually gone."
"I know," Neha soothed. "I know, and it sucks."
"He wasn't supposed to die."
She turned her head and looked at him once more. The events that led up to this day flashed before her eyes. Meeting him for the first time, the first time they really, actually talked like friends. She remembered how many times he asked her out before she finally said yes. She remembered the fear immediately afterwards, fear that he would hurt her like so many others had.
She remembered when he proposed, saying she was his dream, his perfect woman. She remembered saying yes.
And that was when her dream turned into a nightmare.
She remembered the terrible screech that brought his life to an end, the scream ripping from her lips, the gasps of the onlookers who had, just minutes ago, applauded them on their new engagement.
There were no signs of the accident, now. The broken bones were covered, and the bruises had been masked by make-up and clothes. Her stomach churned as she stared at him, and she gave the engagemeent ring on her left hand a hard twist.
"Are you going to be okay?" Neha asked as she pulled away. Natara stared blankly at her. How could she be okay when the world had already ended?
"They said he would look like he was sleeping," She said hallowly.
"He does."
"No he doesn't," she said, her brow furrowing and a hard edge creeping into her voice. "He doesn't look like he's sleeping. He just looks dead."