That's Not Allison

Megan couldn't remember if someone had asked her if she was ready. In these instances, she assumed someone would. She looked at Mr. Simms, who stood on the other side of the table, regarding her with equal parts impatience and concern, and decided that the able detective--as close as he'd gotten to the family in the past year during the investigation--was not as thoughtful as she would assume.

She was suddenly aware of her husband holding her tightly as they entered the darkened room, and of her own two feet seeming to move sluggishly forward. The table in the center appeared to be the only thing lit, making it terribly difficult to ignore. A white sheet lay over an obviously female body.

"Are you ready, Mrs. Brown?" asked the detective. Megan didn't--couldn't--respond, and simply nodded. She steeled herself despite her rapidly diminishing fortitude as Simms lifted the sheet to reveal the bruised, lifeless face of their twenty-two year old daughter. Robert's grip tightened on her shoulder before he let out a soft whimper--a sound she has never heard him make--and started crying.

"That's not Allison," Megan said with a shaky voice.

Robert turned to face his wife. "Honey...?"

"No! It can't be true!" she yelled, struggling out of his grasp. "She's not dead! Allison's still out there somewhere, Mr. Simms! We have to find her! We have to--"

Megan's knees buckled and she fell onto the concrete floor in a heap of violent sobs. Her head raced with images of her daughter, the happier ones being the most painful to recall. She's not dead, she's not dead, she repeated to herself, as Robert aided her out into the foyer. I'll find you myself, Allie. Wait for mommy, sweetie. Mommy will find you...


First Place in 12/18/07 Daily Flash Fiction
Prompt: Write a story that includes the line "It can't be true"
Word Count: 299