Letting My Brother's Best Friend Take My V-Card

HARD REALITY

The cab slowed to a stop in front of an unassuming building that looked more like a small-town office than the

epicenter of so much grief. | clenched my hands in my lap, my fingers. digging into my palms as | stared at the

faded sign. Police Station.

Beneath it, in smaller letters, was the word | had been dreading since we landed: Mortuary.

Laura shifted beside me, her breath hitching as her hand tightened around her bag strap. | didn't look at her. If |

did, | wasn't sure I'd be able to keep the tears at bay. "Ready?" she asked, her voice thin and strained.

I swallowed hard and nodded. "Yeah."

The moment we stepped out of the cab, chaos descended. Reporters swarmed us like flies, their shouts

overlapping until their words blurred together.

"Jessica! Laura! Can you confirm if-"

"Are the bodies identifiable-"

"Are you going to keep the baby even if your husband is dead?"

Cameras flashed, and the bright light stung my eyes. Laura flinched, her arm brushing against mine, but before

either of us could say anything, the station door burst open.

A tall man in a wrinkled suit strode toward us, waving off the reporters. "Step back!" he barked, his tone sharp

enough to cut through the din. He reached us in a few long strides, his expression tight and impatient.

"Detective Raynor," he said curtly ushering us toward the building. As the door swung shut behind us, muffling

the noise outside, he muttered under his breath, "Vultures." | didn't respond. | wasn't sure | could.

"This way," he said, his voice softening as he gestured us down a narrow hallway. His steps were brisk and

purposeful, as though he wanted this over as much as we did.

We followed in silence, the fluorescent lights overhead casting harsh shadows on the scuffed linoleum floor. The

air smelled faintly of coffee, paper, and something metallic that | couldn't quite place.

As we walked, Raynor began to speak, his tone measured but heavy. "A cargo ship found part of the wreckage

last week. Pieces of the fuselage, spersonal belongings, and..." He hesitated, glancing back at us. "...some

remains." Laura sucked in a sharp breath beside me, but | didn't look at her. My gaze stayed fixed on the floor.

"We don't know the exact crash site," Raynor continued. "There was a storm, and the currents could've carried

debris miles- hundreds of miles-from the impact. We're working with what we have."

Laura nodded numbly, and | followed suit. Neither of us said a word.

HARD REALITY

388 (voucheri

"It's sad, you know," Raynor added quietly. "So many players. All gone. It's a big loss for the country."

His words felt hollow, like an echo in an empty room. | didn't respond. | couldn't let myself feel anything-not yet.

We reached a heavy steel door at the end of the hall, and Raynor paused, his hand resting on the handle.

"I need you to prepare yourselves," he said softly, his gaze us."

shifting between us. "What you're about to see... it's not easy. The bodies were in the water for weeks. The

damage is... significant."

| nodded stiffly, swallowing the lump in my throat. Laura gripped my arm again, her fingers trembling.

Raynor pushed the door open, and a wave of cold air washed over me. The room was stark and sterile, the hum

of fluorescent lights mingling with the faint whir of a ventilation system.

Metal drawers lined the walls, their sterile surfaces gleaming under the harsh light. A man in scrubs stood near a

workstation, his expression grim but professional.

He nodded to Raynor, who returned the gesture before turning back to us. "We'll start with the first one," he said,

his tone gentle but firm.

The attendant opened a drawer, the metallic screech of the sliding tray making my stomach turn. He pulled back

the sheet, and my breath caught.

The body beneath was swollen and discolored, barely recognizable as human. My chest tightened, and | had to

look away, biting the inside of my cheek to keep from gagging.

Raynor glanced at me. "Do you recognize him?"

| shook my head, unable to speak, but | knew it wasn't Luke or Josh. | can't tell you how I knew, but | did. Laura

agreed and shook her head.

The attendant covered the body again, sliding the drawer back into place. "Next," Raynor said, his voice quieter

now.

Drawer after drawer, sheet after

sheet, the process repeated. Each

time, | felt a little more of myself

crumble. The facespr@hatwas left

of thembbiGirdd together in my mind,

each one a grim reminder of the

storm, the crash, and everything we'd

lost. When we reached the final

drawer, | braced myself. My legs felt

like jelly, my hands clammy and

trembling, but | forced myself to look.

The body was smaller than the others, the face obscured by damage. For a moment, my heart stopped.

Could it be-

But no. The build was wrong. The jawline didn't match. It wasn't Josh, and it definitely wasn't Luke.

| exhaled shakily, my vision swimming. "It's not him, "I whispered, my voice cracking.

Beside me, Laura let out a small, broken sob, her hand covering her mouth.

Raynor nodded, his shouiders slumping slightly. "I'm sorry," he said softly.

Laura wiped her eyes, her voice shaky. "What now?"

Raynor sighed, running a hand

through his hair. "We keep Looking,

The curgengs gaultive Cie

stinfivors-or remains- farther than we

anticipated. But we won't stop." The

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| felt a strange mix of relief and guilt

as we left the wasn'tl

ters ang either wa's Luke, but that

didn't mean they were alive. The

content is on novelenglish.net! Read

the latest chapter there!