Embalming My Corpse (SL)

[mint_phalanx]

This short story is about Jacqueline watching herself be embalmed. I recommend reading The Murder After first because it ruins everything. If you don't want to read the book or don't care, please continue.

One moment, I’m in my room. I’m bleeding. I can’t breathe. My eyes close. The next moment, they shoot open. And I can’t close them! And I can’t move!

This isn’t my room! Is it an operating room? All I can see is a ceiling. But I’m dead. Aren’t I supposed to be gone or somewhere else? What if this is somewhere else?

I hear footsteps. Footsteps mean people. And they’re moving closer. Maybe they can tell me where I am. But I can’t open my mouth. How am I going to ask? How about I just listen? Do I have any other choice?

I hear a door open then close. I also hear a switch. But for what? Then, two people stand over me. They’re wearing blue medical gowns, blue surgical gloves, safety goggles, and blue N95 masks. The person on my left has hazel eyes while the person on my right has brown eyes. The one with hazel eyes wears a bouffant cap while the one with brown eyes wears a surgical cap.

“Oh, I see your eyes have popped open,” says Hazel Eyes. Sounds like a man. “It’s a good thing we put you in the fridge over the weekend.”

Oh, God! They’re cannibals!

“We just needed to get permission from your family first.” He looks at something. “Good. You are, in fact, Jacqueline Luna.”

They need permission to eat me?

“My name is Matt. I’m going to embalm you today, so you don’t decay before the funeral.” (They’re not cannibals? That’s a relief.) “Your family wants to see you one last time.” Matt gestures to Brown Eyes. “This is my assistant, Joe. He’s the one you call when you need to sew up wounds like the one on your neck. Someone else put you on this table while we were getting dressed.”

Joe crosses his arms, “why are you still talking to a corpse?”

Matt turns to look at him, “don’t you think she’s still in there?”

“No.”

“Well, I do. All the bodies I embalmed have come with some sort of presence, so I started thinking that our souls don’t leave our bodies until after the funeral. It tells us to go to the afterlife.”

“And that line of thinking is how hauntings start.”

“Anyway, I’m talking to Jacqueline to keep her calm during this scary ordeal. I know you think I’m crazy, but will you at least just say ‘hi?’”

“Um, hi Jacqueline.” Joe waves awkwardly. “Sorry about what happened.”

Sorry? I’m sure everyone at the restaurant is ecstatic.

Matt turns his attention back to me. He examines my body, “hm. I got a note saying you had an autopsy, but I don’t see any stitches.”

“Probably because they know what killed her,” Joe says.

“Oh! That’s right. It said the pathologist used an x-ray instead. I didn’t know they could do that.”

“Makes our job easier.” (I hear a pen moving on paper.)

Oh my God! This is really happening! Deep breaths, deep breaths. But I can’t breathe; I’m dead! I try to scream, but I still can’t move my mouth. How does a ghost scream, anyway? I need to scream for help!

“Okay,” Matt says, “Joe and I need to start embalming. I’ll tell you what we’re doing, so you don’t feel nervous.”

Nervous? Nervous!? I can’t move! I can’t breathe! I can’t even scream! I’m fucking scared! I wish I could cry. Somebody, help me! Get me out of here! Please! Help me!

Joe examines my wound, “her right jugular veins are damaged. You’re gonna have to do everything from the left.” (Matt nods.) “Just to be safe, I’d drain from her femoral vein. Let me patch her up first.”

Although I’m still scared, my panic subsides. I have no choice but to watch what these men do to me. What if it hurts? Please don’t hurt!

“Don’t forget to show Jacqueline the instruments!”

“Oh God,” Joe mutters. He leaves the table for a moment. I hear a drawer open, so he must be grabbing something. He returns to the table, opens the things he brought, and quickly shows them to me.

Joe takes a hook and puts it in my wound. Then, he takes a needle with stitches and starts sewing something up. I can’t feel a thing. I can’t scream. I can’t breathe. And I can’t feel a thing!

“Veins are shut.” He removes the hook. “Time to close the wound.”

Matt says, “I should tell you now that Joe is gonna close your neck wound with dental floss. It’s easier to hide. You don’t want your family to see stitches.”

“Way ahead of you. I’m almost done.” (A pause.) “And there you go. Hey, Matt, will you open the sharps bin for me? Thank you.” Joe leaves the table and disposes the… Sharps, I guess. “I’ll clean the tools; you can start cleaning Jacqueline. Just let me change my gloves first.”

“Okay,” Matt says.

I hear a sink faucet turn on. It turns off, and I hear an air dryer turn on. That turns off, and I hear Joe putting on gloves.

Matt reveals a spray bottle, “I’m gonna spray you with a disinfectant. We don’t know where you’ve been.” He starts spraying. Come to think of it, I don’t know where I’ve been.

“Sir, you’re not allowed in this part of the facility,” a woman’s voice says from behind the door.

“I’m not?”

Oh my God, that’s Todd! That’s my brother! Let him in! I wanna see him!

“While I’m here, can I see if my sister is being embalmed?”

“No.” (I can’t see him?) “How did you even get here in the first place?”

“I was just walking around the funeral home to clear my head. I can’t believe her roommate killed her! They were friends.”

They think Terrance killed me!? What idiots do they have working at the police station!?

I hear Todd leave. He cared about me. And Terrance must feel horrible. What made me think he’d react with indifference?

Matt clasps his hands, “anyway, the disinfectant has done its job. Time to dry you off.” I hear him grab a paper towel, and he starts patting me dry. I feel numb.

Todd, Mom, Dad, Terrance, Lillian, Eric. What made me think they wouldn’t care? Why did I kill myself?

“I’m going to wash you with a germicidal soap,” Matt says. “It should help relieve rigor mortis.” Before I know it, my body is wet. And he’s scrubbing it. Suds block my vision.

It’s like a spa treatment I can’t enjoy. At least the soap can't sting my eyes.

“Why don’t you close her eyes?” Joe asks.

“I want her to see what I’m doing,” Matt replies.

“And how the hell do you think she’s able to do that?”

“I don’t know, ghost senses. Look, the paranormal isn’t rational. If it were, science would study it. Now, will you rinse off Jacqueline while I change my gloves?”

“Sure.” Joe starts rinsing me with water. I can see again. Once this is over, I’m asking whoever’s in charge how my soul works. If no one’s in charge, I’m asking a dead scientist. I wonder where the water drains to.

“I’m gonna wash your hair while he dries your body and massages it, okay?” Matt shows me a brush then uses it on my hair. “Careful not to close her eyes.” (Joe groans.)

I enjoyed having my hair washed at a salon. It gave me tingles all over my scalp. But now, I can’t even feel that. Like I said, a spa treatment I can’t enjoy. Why didn’t this come up before killing myself? Was I that upset? Would the thought of a hair wash have stopped me?

Suddenly, I hear the sound of a blow dryer.

“I used to worry a hairdryer would make a body decay faster,” Matt tells me. “After twenty years, I now know this fear is unfounded.” He turns off the blow dryer and gives my hair one final brush. “Time for the actual embalming.” He leaves the table to prepare.

Meanwhile, Joe positions my body. Then, he takes my hands and intertwines my fingers slightly. He places them under my breasts, “so Linda knows where to put them after she dresses her.”

Matt returns to the table, “the first step to embalming is setting the features.” (Oh, no. I know what that means.) “I’m not going to set your eyes until later. I want you to see what I’m doing. But I will set your mouth now because that’s hard to do after injecting embalming fluid.”

Joe leaves the table.

“What? I’ve practiced closing the eyes after cavity embalming.” (Cavity what?)

“I’m just changing my gloves.”

“Oh.” Matt massages my jaw. Next, he opens my mouth and starts cleaning it. “Again, we don’t know where you’ve been. I’m glad to see you have all your teeth in good condition. You won’t need a mouth former, just a needle injector.” (Needle what!?) Then, he starts shoving cotton down my throat! “It’s just part of the procedure.”

I don’t care if it’s part of the procedure! Stop it! I wish I could struggle. I wish I could scream. But these men are doing their jobs. But I don’t care! Make it stop!

The cotton shoving stops, and he leaves the table.

After changing his gloves, Matt returns to the table and closes my mouth. He picks up something that looks like a black pen stuck inside a stapler. It must be the needle injector. He uses it, which makes me kind of glad I’m numb. Then, he closes my lips, “I’ll glue them shut once I’m done injecting the embalming fluid.” (Glue them shut!?)

Joe points at something, “uh, her lips are parting a bit.”

“That’s okay. I read in a textbook that it helps contour the lips during arterial injection. I wanna see if it’s true.”

“Experimentation, the trait of every good embalmer.”

“It’s a small experiment,” Matt says, “not one that can mess up the entire thing. I’m not stupid.”

He turns his attention back to me. He takes a scalpel and cuts open the left side of my neck. Then, he makes a cut on my left leg. I can hear a pen moving on paper. Joe must be recording something. Anyway, Matt puts a small metal stick inside my neck and another inside my leg.

He shows me a curved blade, “this is a bistoury knife. I’m going to use it to cut open the artery in your neck and the vein in your leg. I have to get the embalming fluid in some way. The vein will be open to drain your blood.” He quickly cuts them open.

I give up on wanting to scream. I can’t do anything. I should not have killed myself.

“Let me put in the drainage tube,” Joe says enthusiastically. “It’s my favorite part! I love watching the blood drain into the basin.”

“Okay, just let me show Jacqueline a few things first,” Matt replies. He shows me a metal hook thing and a plastic tube. “This is an arterial tube. I attach it to the hose of the embalming machine like so-” he attaches the instruments- “and put it into the artery in your neck. I’m gonna do this twice.” Then, he keeps the tube in place with a pair of forceps.

Matt shows me a metal teapot thing attached to another plastic tube, “this is a drainage tube. Joe is going to put it in your leg to drain blood out of your body while—”

“Just give me the damn tube!” Joe says. He inserts it without explanation.

“All systems go?”

“Yup.”

Matt leaves the table, “I’m gonna turn on the embalming machine. It’s gonna be really loud.” He does, and it is.

I can’t believe I made Terrance drunk. I can’t believe he trusted me every time I said, “that’s your first drink.” I shouldn’t have done that. Now, my last moments with him were carrying him home and being annoyed when he insisted my bed is comfier. I let Terrance pass out there. He was gonna find my body either way. I thought he wouldn’t care.

I don’t think Terrance being sober would have stopped me. Several hours didn’t stop me, even though I had kind of hoped they would. But when I remembered how humiliated I felt at work, I couldn’t stand it! I couldn’t take any more bullying. Now, I’m trapped inside myself as my body is being filled with chemicals.

I hear a flushing noise after my blood has been removed. The room is quieter, so I guess the machine has been turned off. Joe removes the drainage tube; Matt removes the arterial tube. They leave the table, so I guess they’re cleaning things.

What if Matt is wrong about leaving after the funeral? What if I’m trapped inside my body until it decays to bone? I don’t wanna be stuck here! Please, take me somewhere else!

Matt returns to the table, “tubes are cleaned. Gloves are changed. Time to close your lips with some special glue.” He takes the glue and seals my lips shut. It’s funny. I have a mouth, but I can’t scream.

“Time to embalm your cavities,” Matt sings. “I can’t know if the embalming fluid got to those places, so I must preserve them separately.” (This will be embarrassing.) “But first, I need to clean them.” He squeezes himself. “I’m so excited!”

“And I’ll just keep writing,” Joe says.

Matt reveals something that kind of looks like the thing a hygienist uses to suck water out of your mouth, “this is a hydro aspirator. It uses water and suction to clean out all the hollow organs in your body.” He attaches a long needle to it. “This long needle is called a trochar. I stick it into your abdomen, so the aspirator it’s attached to can clean out your hollow organs. Then, I’m gonna use it again to inject cavity fluids into them.” He inserts the trochar into my belly. “Joe, will you turn on the aspirator for me?”

“Yeah.”

This is less embarrassing. I wish this were a bad dream. I wish I could wake up and tell Terrance, “I had a horrible dream! I killed myself, but instead of crossing over, I was trapped inside my body. And I had to watch it be embalmed.” I don’t want to scream anymore. I want to cry. But I can’t even do that.

“Trochar is clean,” Matt says. Time flies by when you’re brooding.

“This is a one-handed cavity fluid injector.” (I think it looks like a spray bottle with that trochar stuck to it.) “I put the trochar back into your abdomen and…” Matt flips the bottle over. “The fluid goes into your cavities.”

I’m not going home once this is over. I’m going in a casket then somewhere else. I’m never gonna see Terrance again. I’m never gonna see Mom or Dad again. I’m never gonna see Todd again. I didn’t say goodbye.

No more vanilla scented candles. No more mug cakes. No more cooking experiments. I can’t do any of that on the other side. This feeling of sadness is worse than the fear.

Matt sews a small button onto my belly, “don’t worry. No one will see it.” He shows me a curved needle. “I’m going to sew up your artery now then close the incision. I’m going to do the same for your leg.” He sews up the vessels and removes the metal sticks. Then, he sews up the cuts. “I’m gonna dispose the sewing needles and change my gloves.”

My family and friends cared about me. They loved me. This is the opposite of what I expected. I shouldn’t have killed myself.

“Okay,” Matt says, “the actual embalming is over. I uh…” He takes a deep breath. “After twenty years, it’s still hard. I think it must be the scariest part for the people I care for. That’s one reason I do it last.”

Uh-oh.

“You need to do it,” Joe says gently. “It makes Jacqueline’s body presentable. She’ll understand.”

Oh, no.

Matt continues, “I need to close your eyes now. First, I’m going to put these plastic caps over your eyes to help keep them closed. Then, I’m going to glue your eyelids shut. Don’t be scared. You’ll see again after the funeral.”

No! I don’t understand! Please, don’t close my eyes! Stop it! Stop touching them! Stop closing them! Please! I can’t see!

I’m scared.