My body lay on the ground, completely shattered and looking nothing like me anymore.
Meanwhile, my soul floated mid-air, looking down at my body from above.
I didn't feel sad or any sort of anguish, moreso a sense of release.
After floating in the air for god-knows how long, Jamie arrived at the scene of the explosion along with a team of police officers.
One of them said, "We discovered some gunpowder at the scene, so it seems like the perpetrator made the bomb themselves, but we still can't lock in on the identity of the victim."
Jamie furrowed her brows tightly as she stared at my body, and at that moment, a strange sense of anticipation welled up within my heart—would she recognize me? And if she did, would she feel any sort of regret?
I stared at her eyes, wanting to see the slightest flash of recognition, but she stood up the very next moment without any sort of notable change in expression. "Seems like it was a man. From what's left of his clothing, he was probably between his twenties to his thirties, so we can do a check in that range.
"For now, let's just carry out an autopsy."
My heart sank when I realized she didn't recognize me, but I suppose that was to be expected. She didn't care about me anyway, so how could she know it was me?
After all the inspection was said and done, my corpse was brought back to the precinct. My soul drifted along, settling in the backseat of Jamie's car.
She sat in the passenger seat while her subordinate, Truman, drove.
"By the way, did you have your phone turned off just now, Jamie? The chief couldn't get to you so he called me instead!"
Jamie frowned, as if she was reminded of something unpleasant.
"Well, you have Caleb to thank for that. I already told that nuisance of a man to stop calling me during work hours, but he never listens!"
I'd already gotten used to her cruel remarks towards me, but seeing the annoyed, borderline disgusted expression on her face still felt like a giant hand gripped my heart tight, making it impossible to breathe.
Truman sighed. "Caleb's just worried about you, Jamie. Don't be mad at him."
She only responded with a 'hmph', not saying anything. Then, she took out her phone, and my message was the first thing that popped up.
My chest tightened. Would she notice that something was wrong?
But her face twisted with annoyance. "This is his idea of caring? Not seeing each other ever again, he said!"
Then, she tried calling my phone, but of course, I could no longer answer.
Seeing the call fail to go through, her expression became even darker. "Alright, is that how you want to play it? Fine! Leave, and never come back!"
With that, she blocked my number without the slightest hint of hesitation, the thought that I might be in trouble not even passing her mind.
My heart was in so much pain at this point that it became a dull ache instead, and I was no longer able to muster up any emotion.
I should have known.
Jamie never cared for me, even from the start. She was never willing to spend even the slightest bit of time, energy or care on me.
Now that I was dead, was there really any use clinging onto these unrealistic expectations?
I followed along as my corpse arrived at the precinct and was pushed into the autopsy room by Jamie. I hovered behind her, watching as she cut my body open.
Even then, I still held onto the fantasy that she'd recognize me, but she never did.
