I couldn’t stop staring at the wilted blades of grass, turned hard in the frost. The longest blade curved downwards, it’s point nestling into her palm. I suddenly had a tingling in my hands as I recalled how sharp rough grass could feel. I used to push my palms into it when I sat on the grass during sports day in school. It always surprised me how something which was usually so soft, could be so uncomfortable. Painful even.

A bite of icy air brought me back to reality. The dead girl would never feel the touch of nature again. I assessed the scene, and went over a million difference scenario’s in my head about how she ended up dead on her back, her eyes still open, looking up at the sky. There’s nothing I haven’t seen after 13 years in the job. Nothing shocks me anymore, though I find myself surprised at my emotional response to this. I thought all my empathy had depleted years ago. There was morbid comfort that it still resided within me.

I made some final notes, watched forensics take their photos and find their evidence. It was going to be a long night for them, but longer for me. Something about her stare sent chills through my entire body. Not because her eyes were open, I’d seen that many times before; but because I swear I saw her blink. I first put it down to my being so tired, but when she turned her head to meet my gaze, and mouthed inaudible words at me, my heart leapt. A heavy pit formed in the depths of my soul. I don’t think I’ll sleep tonight.