Tryst Six Venom by Penelope Douglas

“Please!” I plead, pushing past her. “I need to be here.”
“Clay, it’s a child,” she rushes out as I pass.
I stop, staring at the floor but not seeing it.
Children don’t come through often, but when they do, she makes sure I’m
not present. Maybe it’s because of Henry. Maybe it’s because she knew my
parents weren’t aware that I come here, and the death of a child, even ones I
don’t know, will be hard.
I don’t turn around to look at her, merely raising my gaze to the steel
double doors ahead. It feels like my heart is floating in my chest as my
stomach roils.
I keep walking, hearing her rush after me. “Clay, please.”
But I ignore her. Pushing through the doors, I enter the room and see the
boy, a small body outlined under a sheet.
He’s uncovered down to his stomach, and something spills down the
drain, but I don’t look to see what.
I walk over.
“Clay…”
I know she’s worried, but I don’t know… Maybe I’m just too numb
tonight to be scared anymore. I need to do this.
Approaching the boy’s side, I see his wet, brown hair slicked back, his
jaw slack, and his eyes partially open, the brown pupils foggy.
She’d just washed him. Water still runs down the drain underneath the
table, and his palms face up at his sides. There’s dirt under his nails and
scratches on his forearm, probably from playing with his cat or dog.
A lump grows in my throat, always finding this part hardest of all. The
evidence of their lives. Bruises, skinned knees, old scars, chipped nail
polish…
A tear spills over as I look down at his skinny arms. “He’s, um…”
“Like Henry,” she says, seeing what I see. The coloring is different, but
they’re about the same age. Ten or eleven.
“What happened to him?” I ask her, still letting my eyes roam for any
evidence of violence.
“He drowned,” she replies. “He was swimming at the Murtaugh Inlet. Got
swept into the current.”
It isn’t unheard of. We swim a lot in Florida. Drownings happen.
The hard part is that it’s not a quick death. He would’ve been aware with
every second that passed that help wasn’t coming.