The smell hit them before Lucille’s door was fully opened. Rushing to his girlfriend’s side, Jake looked at the peaceful face of Lucille. Before he could touch her, his sister yelled. “Don’t Jake! They might want to,” her voice trailed off.
Jake drew back his hand, as his sister called 911. He studied her, a small smile, the one she usually wore to sleep was spread across her face. He wished he could see her eyes open and vibrant, but they were closed. There was something about them though. Jake leaned forward, resisting the urge to scoop her into his arms. On top of Lucille’s eyelids were two small smudges of dirt. He scoured her face for more.
Taking in every pore, every detail of her face. She looked so peaceful, so happy. It didn’t make sense. She was perfect. She looked content with the exception of her eyelids. Jake heard a far off rumble of laughter, a stampede of feet. He looked at the wall behind the couch – the one connected to her bedroom.
In disbelief his eyes returned to Lucille once more. Where he would usually entangle his fingers in her thick brownish blonde hair, brushing it behind her ear before taking her in his arms, he just looked at her. He put his hands on his lap to steady himself as his reality faltered. A strand of hair tucked behind her ear, silver as the moon, spoiled only by a reddish spot of dirt where it was touched by the uglies of the night.