emblème du lys

Chapitre 7

Reply [31]: Actually, the last one wasn't really a horror story~

I'm puzzled; the writing style is remarkably similar to that of a beautiful female writer.

I'm dizzy

---Cute Pink Little Pig

Reply [32]: Got it

---Hai insect

Reply [33]: Before I switched to being a pharmaceutical sales manager, I was an anatomy lecturer at a medical school. I switched careers not because I was bad at it; in fact, I taught quite well, and if I hadn't given up, I think I would probably be an associate professor by now.

What forced me to leave the university lecture hall was a psychological factor: I hate and fear the dead. It's an unfathomable fear, like a flowing, chilling needle piercing through the soles of your feet, circulating through your bloodstream, and you don't know when it will reach your heart—it could be six months, a month, or even a minute. Similarly, I don't know when it will return, but I feel it's not far away, still lurking somewhere, waiting to kill me at any moment.

The story begins with an anatomy class three years ago. For the students, this class was perhaps the most unforgettable one in their lives, because the first time performing a full autopsy always leaves an extremely strong impression. I had already emphasized that they should be mentally prepared, but some people still vomited. In the three days that followed, very few people went to the cafeteria to buy meat, especially meat dishes such as stir-fried pork liver.

This time, the corpse was a young woman, an anomaly in medical school, as the scarcity of cadavers has become a common problem for all medical schools. Most of the cadavers they obtain are from elderly people who died of illness, and their organs have already failed. Even so, full cadaver dissection classes are often postponed again and again. This is because, according to local custom, even if the patient had aspired to dedicate themselves to the medical profession before death, the deceased's children often do not allow it, considering it a desecration of the deceased. Therefore, every cadaver is a rare practical opportunity, and young, fresh cadavers are even more precious.

The female corpse lay quietly on the dissection table. Before the class began, the body had been covered with a white sheet. As usual, I explained the precautions to the students, as well as the importance of autopsy in medicine. Finally, I asked them to treat the corpse with the utmost respect. The students' eyes were filled with curiosity and a hint of fear, but no one uttered a sound, as if waiting for an extremely solemn moment.

The white sheet was lifted, and a few soft sighs escaped from the students. It was the body of a very young woman, probably only twenty-five or twenty-six years old. She was said to have been a secretary who committed suicide by cutting her wrists due to relationship problems. Her friends found a body donation form among her belongings, filled out during her student days. Young people rarely consider such things; why did she make this choice? Perhaps it will forever remain a mystery.

She wasn't a particularly beautiful woman; her eyes were slightly sunken, perhaps indicating she had endured considerable stress during her lifetime. Her eyes were closed, her expression serene, as if she were fast asleep, completely lacking the stiffness of a typical corpse. Perhaps death truly was a relief for her.

As I was thinking this, I covered her face with a square scarf as usual. With her face hidden, her pale body stood out starkly.

“Now, let’s begin!” I said, gesturing for the students to focus their attention on the dissection demonstration table.

There was complete silence all around. I took the scalpel from the tray and held it to her throat. The white plastic gloves contrasted sharply with the woman's skin, creating a breathtakingly white effect.

Her body was still somewhat soft, her skin retaining its elasticity, a feeling quite different from any corpse I had ever handled before. For some reason, I hesitated to make the incision with my scalpel, and a terrifying thought even crossed my mind: perhaps she wasn't dead yet. But soon, I found my thought laughable; perhaps it was just a pity that this girl had died, hence my delusion.

---Cute Pink Little Pig

Reply [34]: Mark first

---lanlangc

Reply [35]: The students stared wide-eyed at the scalpel. I focused my mind and finally slashed the blade downwards with force. The sharp scalpel encountered almost no resistance and reached her lower abdomen. It was like pulling a chain. We could clearly hear the slight, sharp sizzling sound of the scalpel cutting through the flesh. Due to the pressure inside the body cavity, the cut skin and purplish-red muscles immediately and automatically turned to both sides. Her originally firm breasts hung to the sides of her body, and her skin became very loose. After the skin and muscles were pulled apart with the fixator, the internal organs were completely exposed in front of us. At this point, I had forgotten what kind of person the corpse in front of me was. In fact, it was no longer important. What was important was how to make the students remember the structure of the human body, which would have a profound impact on their future medical careers.

The internal organs were removed one by one, and the details were explained to the students. After dissecting the body, the structure was explained. Once all the internal organs were removed, only a red body cavity remained of the female corpse.

The class went smoothly. Although a few students were so uncomfortable that their faces turned pale and almost everyone felt nauseous, they still withstood the test and the trip was worthwhile.

After the students left, I was the only one left in the anatomy demonstration room. The bright white light shone on the dissection table, reflecting a dazzling light. I began to put the removed internal organs back in their original positions one by one, and then used thread to sew the skin back to its original shape layer by layer.

The school bell struck five times with a thud. I removed the handkerchief covering the woman's face, and then something terrifying happened! The woman suddenly opened her eyes and glared at me fiercely, which almost made me fall to the ground in fright.

I stood up tremblingly and realized it wasn't a hallucination. She was staring at the ceiling with her big, round eyes wide open, and her expression was no longer as peaceful as before, but rather full of anger.

But she was indeed dead. I mustered my courage and went up to examine her carefully. I finally found a reasonable explanation: perhaps it was due to bioelectricity. The dissection process triggered some kind of bioelectric nerve reflex.

I closed her eyes, covered her with the white sheet again, and left the dissection room.

For the next few days, the woman's eyes kept haunting my mind. I'm not a paranormal believer, but for some reason, those eyes haunted me like a ghost. I kept wondering why she opened her eyes at that moment, and that look in her eyes, when I thought back on it, seemed to convey some kind of message, not quite like the empty look of a dead person.

Three days later, I learned that the woman's body had been cremated and her ashes had been taken back to her distant hometown by her parents.

A year has passed, and I seem to have forgotten about it. In the meantime, I've gotten a girlfriend.

We met on a rainy night. I was walking home from a meeting at school that evening. It was raining heavily, and there wasn't a soul on the road. I couldn't hail a taxi, so I had to walk alone with my umbrella. As I walked, I suddenly noticed someone following me at a leisurely pace. I felt a little nervous; if I encountered a robber, I would be in big trouble. So I deliberately quickened my pace, and the person quickened their pace too, still keeping about four or five meters behind me. After walking like this for a long time, I finally couldn't stand it anymore and turned around to see what was going on. But the result was unexpected. It turned out that the person following me was a slender girl wearing a yellow raincoat.

We stood facing each other.

"Why are you following me?" I asked her.

"I'm sorry, I... I'm scared to travel alone." She looked at me timidly.

---Cute Pink Little Pig

Reply [36]: I breathed a sigh of relief and laughed, "Then how do you know I'm not a bad person?"

She laughed and said, "Because you're like a teacher, and teachers are rarely bad people."

"Ha! You guessed right, I am a teacher. Don't be afraid, I'll walk you home!" I walked with her and took her all the way home.

After that night, we often ran into each other on our way home, and we gradually became acquainted.

I never dared to tell her what courses I taught, so she only knew that I was a teacher at the medical school and had no idea about the nature of my work.

One day, I finally told her that I was a lecturer in human anatomy.

She wasn't as surprised or scared as I had imagined; instead, she showed a strong sense of curiosity.

"Do you think the corpse feels pain when the scalpel cuts through it?" she asked, waiting for my answer with a serious expression.

"How could that be? People lose all feeling when they're dead."

How do you know they don't feel anything?

"Modern medicine defines death as brain death. Once the brain nerves are dead, any stimulation of the nerve endings will lose its effect, and the person will naturally lose all sensation."

“This is just what we living people think, but the truth may not be like that,” she said stubbornly.

"Don't overthink it," I said with a smile.

Later, she asked this question more than once. Every time I answered, it was as if something was hooked into my mind by an iron hook, but it immediately sank back down.

But she still kept asking me the same question. Gradually, I felt a strange sense of fear pressing down on me. I even became afraid to see her. But when I thought about it, there was nothing particularly strange about it. I guessed it might be because of the psychological pressure from frequently being exposed to autopsies.