Edinburgh, 1828
John unlocked the door and heaved it open. It seemed like everyday he was surprised by how heavy the door was. The smell of the room hit him first and it made his eyes water. It was the rich, putrid odor of decomposing bodies and he gagged on it.
“Did you forget your sachet again? Here, take mine, the smell doesn’t affect me anymore,” Denby said. He handed him a bundle of cloth filled with fragrant herbs; John tied it around his face so that it covered his nose and mouth.
“Sorry, I think I lost it,” John mumbled.
His shoes clattered against the green tile floor as he walked to his own dissection table. The walls were covered in the same tile and it made every sound ring loud and reverberate in large room. There were three tables in a row but Denby was the only other person there. Thank God for small blessings. John didn’t care what the oafish surgeon thought of him so he was free to get as heartsick as he wanted during the autopsy.
“That one just came in,” Denby said, pointing at the dead girl on the slab. “You’ll want to work quickly, I think she was out in the streets for a while before Knox got her. Wouldn’t do for her to rot before you’ve finished your business.”
John’s stomach still lurched every time he saw a corpse. He no longer felt the need to puke when he cut into one but just seeing the small, naked thing that used to be human was unsettling. She had been pretty in a youngish way. The dark, matted hair on her head might have been a rich chestnut color and in life her skin might have had a pale luminescence. He was half tempted to push back her eyelids and see what color her eyes were. The eyes were always the first to go, though, especially if her body had been left outside for a while. Rats liked to make meals out of the round wet orbs.
He was starting to develop a rhythm when it came to commencing an autopsy. Apron on, gloves up, arrange all of the little instruments in a row. Don’t think of them as knives, saws or scalpels. Think of them as the tools you’ll use to delve into the inner workings of the human body. Think of them as the way to discover the heart of a person.
She was a happy child because she was loved. Her father spoiled her and her mother let her have her way because of the smile in her eyes. Her days were filled with skipping and singing and evenings gathered around the fireplace sipping tea. She was a boisterous child but everyone loved her for it.
John rolled the body onto its stomach. Tonight he had to learn about the muscles of the back. He straightened the body out and pushed down on the shoulder blades. He set to work carving a long red line down the dead girl’s spine.
In the summer, her mother would take her to the country to see the wildflowers. She’d pick a posy, hand it to her mother, and start on another. At some point the new bunch would stop being a posy and turn into a fistful of flowers. Periodically she would shove it in her face and breath in deeply. She would look back at her mother and laugh.
As she grew older she only became more lovely. The childish roundness developed into soft curves and the spoiled turned sweet. She could stop a boy dead in his tracks with one smile.
John spread the skin of the back out so that he could study what lay within. He counted out the vertebrae in his head and named the muscles. This was one of the finest specimens he’d seen.
She moved with a grace that few could match. Her muscles were finely shaped and every gesture was well controlled. She floated through a room like smoke on air. To see her dance was to witness perfection.
John’s hands stilled as he considered the body before him.
“Oi, are you gonna quit daydreaming and get to work?” Denby asked.
John shot him a look and bent back over his work. Before he could become immersed again, however, Denby spoke up once more.
"You might as well flay the rest of her, I think they'll want her for a display model."
"She's not just a piece of meat, you know!" John said hotly.
Denby's eyes bugged out. "Settle down, mate. I'll let you have some alone time with your girlfriend later, don't worry," he said, winking suggestively.
"You're disgusting," John said.
"And you're pathetic. Get on with it."
John unlocked the door and heaved it open. It seemed like everyday he was surprised by how heavy the door was. The smell of the room hit him first and it made his eyes water. It was the rich, putrid odor of decomposing bodies and he gagged on it.
“Did you forget your sachet again? Here, take mine, the smell doesn’t affect me anymore,” Denby said. He handed him a bundle of cloth filled with fragrant herbs; John tied it around his face so that it covered his nose and mouth.
“Sorry, I think I lost it,” John mumbled.
His shoes clattered against the green tile floor as he walked to his own dissection table. The walls were covered in the same tile and it made every sound ring loud and reverberate in large room. There were three tables in a row but Denby was the only other person there. Thank God for small blessings. John didn’t care what the oafish surgeon thought of him so he was free to get as heartsick as he wanted during the autopsy.
“That one just came in,” Denby said, pointing at the dead girl on the slab. “You’ll want to work quickly, I think she was out in the streets for a while before Knox got her. Wouldn’t do for her to rot before you’ve finished your business.”
John’s stomach still lurched every time he saw a corpse. He no longer felt the need to puke when he cut into one but just seeing the small, naked thing that used to be human was unsettling. She had been pretty in a youngish way. The dark, matted hair on her head might have been a rich chestnut color and in life her skin might have had a pale luminescence. He was half tempted to push back her eyelids and see what color her eyes were. The eyes were always the first to go, though, especially if her body had been left outside for a while. Rats liked to make meals out of the round wet orbs.
He was starting to develop a rhythm when it came to commencing an autopsy. Apron on, gloves up, arrange all of the little instruments in a row. Don’t think of them as knives, saws or scalpels. Think of them as the tools you’ll use to delve into the inner workings of the human body. Think of them as the way to discover the heart of a person.
She was a happy child because she was loved. Her father spoiled her and her mother let her have her way because of the smile in her eyes. Her days were filled with skipping and singing and evenings gathered around the fireplace sipping tea. She was a boisterous child but everyone loved her for it.
John rolled the body onto its stomach. Tonight he had to learn about the muscles of the back. He straightened the body out and pushed down on the shoulder blades. He set to work carving a long red line down the dead girl’s spine.
In the summer, her mother would take her to the country to see the wildflowers. She’d pick a posy, hand it to her mother, and start on another. At some point the new bunch would stop being a posy and turn into a fistful of flowers. Periodically she would shove it in her face and breath in deeply. She would look back at her mother and laugh.
As she grew older she only became more lovely. The childish roundness developed into soft curves and the spoiled turned sweet. She could stop a boy dead in his tracks with one smile.
John spread the skin of the back out so that he could study what lay within. He counted out the vertebrae in his head and named the muscles. This was one of the finest specimens he’d seen.
She moved with a grace that few could match. Her muscles were finely shaped and every gesture was well controlled. She floated through a room like smoke on air. To see her dance was to witness perfection.
John’s hands stilled as he considered the body before him.
“Oi, are you gonna quit daydreaming and get to work?” Denby asked.
John shot him a look and bent back over his work. Before he could become immersed again, however, Denby spoke up once more.
"You might as well flay the rest of her, I think they'll want her for a display model."
"She's not just a piece of meat, you know!" John said hotly.
Denby's eyes bugged out. "Settle down, mate. I'll let you have some alone time with your girlfriend later, don't worry," he said, winking suggestively.
"You're disgusting," John said.
"And you're pathetic. Get on with it."
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