Please bring a living girl out of there. The rumble of voices signaled people were returning down the path, but slowly. Much slower than the ambulance driver and his partner had rushed down. There was no longer a need to hurry, that’s what their footsteps said. My heart dropped as they emerged, carrying the stretcher, a white sheet covering the form, obscene wet patches soaking the cloth over the still body. The man at the front stumbled. The corpse’s hand dropped over the side, pulling the sheet off her face, what was once beautiful gone gray and bloated.
