Women Scorned (3 page)

“She’s dead,” the doctor said, his face sagging as he glared at the head nurse. “How did this happen? Who is she?”

“I don’t know,” the nurse said. “No one saw her come in.”

They covered her with a white sheet and rolled her to the morgue. After writing what they knew about this mysterious woman, they strung a Jane Doe tag over her big toe and placed her in one of the coolers.

“What happened to her? I can’t believe those bruises. And those are bite marks on her shoulders and stomach,” the pathologist said to her assistant as they left.

Chapter Two

The counters around the room’s perimeter held iodine and other bottles exhibiting exotic, sterile sounding names, like bleach and formaldehyde. The tiled floor reflected the fluorescent lights. In the center of the room, the tiles were stained a darker brown and flaunted scratches filled with grimed-in matter. Above the discolored section of floor, a large, stainless-steel table loomed. A tray with various sharp and serrated instruments sat beside it. The stark illumination made even the smallest details visible.

A naked man rested on the metallic platform, his squishy flesh surpassing the width of the table, drooping over the sides. The skin on his face sagged toward his ears and his jaw hung open as he stared with sightless eyes at the ceiling. His toes pointed outward like a duck, his manhood all but lost in graying-pink folds.

Libitina Flesher stood next to the body wiggling her gloved fingers above his gut, looking like a wicked witch gloating over a great find. Her scraggly black hair was tied back in a ragged ponytail, a large zit was on the end of her nose, and thick, black rimmed glasses adorned her face. All combined to make what might have been an attractive woman appear homely, someone most people wouldn’t notice on the streets.

“And now to start.” She gripped the scalpel. With a sigh, she placed the blade next to his right clavicle and made a diagonal incision to his sternum, giggling as she did so. She repeated the process from the left clavicle, meeting her first line in a V. She dragged the razor-sharp edge through the flesh, down his belly to his groin turning the V into a Y.

She’d learned that skin made a mild tearing sound when cut, like tape pulled from leather. Because of the silence, the soft purring seemed as loud as an engine, making Libitina shiver with pleasure. Nothing came close to such a noise. Only a little blood oozed from the large incision etched over his chest and abdomen. She slipped a hand into the fresh opening and wiggled her fingers down past the fatty tissue. Then she made her hand flat over his muscles and moved it in small, circular motions under the skin.

“Oh my,” she said in a hysterical tone, “an alien is about to burst through.” She turned her hand palm up under his fat and poked her middle finger upwards, giving the appearance of something trying to beat its way through his skin. “Everyone, rrrrun for your lives,” she squealed, trilling her R’s. She giggled, cleared her throat and then became more serious as she continued to loosen the flesh. One must be serious and careful during such delicate procedures. If someone ever caught her playing around… well… she didn’t even want to think about the humiliation.

A small noise from outside tore her attention from the autopsy. She looked at the door, at the closed blinds over the window it held. She had to go faster. Doing so, she placed her hands back to back and put them once again inside the incision, pealing the flesh back, exposing his pink muscles and white rib bones.
Very nice
, she thought
. Now to get him open
.

After cutting his sternum, she grabbed the rib spreader and positioned it ever so carefully around his chest. When it cracked apart, she snickered again, glanced over her shoulder at the closed door, lips pressed tight. She didn’t hear any other commotion from behind the door. Back to work.

As she cut the membrane covering his organs, she whisper-hummed “The Star Spangled Banner”. The first organ she reached for was the corpse’s enormous stomach. A loud belch boomed from the dead man’s mouth when she grabbed it. Libitina jumped, clasping her hands over her mouth, stifling the scream threatening to escape.

Eyes wide, she stared at the vacant face. It only took a moment for her heart to slow. She sucked in a breath and laughed, clapping. Blood and fluids flew from her fingers. Red smears like feathered wings streaked her cheeks.

She hopped as she giggled like a child playing with her favorite toy. She then jabbed the dead man in the shoulder with a bloody finger, the red mark a harsh contrast to his bluish skin. “You got me, you little joker.”

She reached back into his abdomen, snipped the membrane holding the stomach in place, then set it in the scale. “Whoa, big boy,” she said, as if looking at his enormous body wasn’t proof enough to this fact. “So, what was your last meal?” She sliced the organ open and inhaled the fumes emanating from within. “Ahh, junk food junkie,” she said as she examined the orange goo inside. “Oh, and here’s a piece of pepperoni… Let’s look at your heart next. I bet I can guess your cause of death, Mr. Fatty.”

She removed the partially digested treasures.

Footsteps and jingling keys from the hallway beyond the closed door stopped her progress. “Shit,” she said as she wiped her hands over her stained lab coat and then grabbed her clipboard. “Shit.” A shadowed head bobbed in the window. She scuttled to the door, head down, clipboard tucked under her arm, bag slung over her shoulder. Just as she reached for the knob, it swung open.

A skyscraper of a man ducked under the lintel. Their inevitable collision reverberated through Libitina making her teeth click and her ears ring. She caught her balance by stepping back. He caught his by hanging onto the door jamb; his stethoscope clattered to the floor. Already tall at 5’10”, Libitina had to tilt her head back to look into his eyes. She grinned, recognizing him immediately.

“Not you again!” he yelled. When he noticed the blood on her face, his features twisted into a grimace, and he stepped back. “Security,” he hollered down the corridor. “She’s here again, come quick.” She tried to shove past him, but he grabbed her wrist. “Not this time, you sick fuck! You’re coming with me.” He glanced into the autopsy room at the opened corpse. “Fuck! What the hell’s wrong with you?”

Libitina giggled and brought her knee into the large doctor’s crotch. His eyes grew wide as his mouth dropped. He collapsed to his knees and grabbed his abused testicles. With his size, she half expected the ground to shake when he hit the floor.

“Sorry, gotta run,” she said as she shoved him onto his side. She sprinted in the opposite direction the doctor had looked when yelling for security and reached the elevators before the men in blue came around the corner. “Not fast enough,” she whispered as she slipped into the elevator. It closed before they saw her.

When the doors dinged open on the lobby floor, Libitina trotted toward the entrance.

“Hey,” someone yelled behind her. The voice carried a heavy tone of authority. She didn’t turn but fled instead through the exit, never looking back. She jumped into her black SUV, jammed the key into the ignition, started it, then backed out. As she sped out of the parking lot, she chanced a glance in the rearview mirror in time to see the same security guard from the morgue come skidding into view.

Too close. She laughed, a high-pitched, relieved sound, as she headed to the back roads that would lead her home. Mozart filled her car as she drove the forested road, thinking about the fat man she’d been autopsying. If only she could’ve looked at his heart.

After driving for over an hour through dense woods, she reached a long driveway that wound down and around, eventually revealing her old cabin. The white paint cracked and flaked. Weeds choked her garden and front yard.

She went inside, a slight stomp and pout to her walk. Just past the door, a large armoire stood against the wall, the hand carved oak covered in numerous scratches and dings. She opened it. Mirrors hanging on the back of the doors reflected her greasy image. She grinned at her ugliness, then grasped her hair at the roots, on the widow’s peak, and pulled, ridding herself of the scraggly wig and revealing the natural red bun beneath.

She placed the fake hair on one of the mannequin heads, then peeled off the large pimple protruding from her nose, the adhesive looking like strands of a spider’s web before snapping. She placed it in a basket full of other scars. Her thick-rimmed glasses went into another receptacle, full of a myriad of spectacles. She took out the colored contact lenses and put them in a container.

She grabbed the face cleaner and wiped oil and the dead man’s fluids from her skin. Free of her disguise, her blue eyes looked watery. A slight shadow cast a muted light of sadness across her features. She closed the armoire and went to the kitchen. After making a sandwich, she plodded to her bedroom, head down.

A black Chihuahua bounced around her feet there.

“Good afternoon, Cerberus, my little baby,” she said to the wiggling dog. It yipped at her and bowed to nip at her toes. She giggled and swooped up the dog. “I think I know how that fat man died,” she whispered. “Yes, I do,” she said in baby talk, scratching Cerberus’s belly. The dog wriggled free and grabbed a toy from its basket. “Not now, baby. I’m thinking.”

She tapped her upper lip with her index finger, thoughts back in the examining room with the dead man. Her face lit up and she went to her bookshelves.

The medical section in her mini-library dominated the wall. She grabbed a tome with a cracked spine, the paper over the hardback peeling and fading in places. The advanced autopsy book, written for the medical student looking to determine cause of death, creaked as it opened.

“At first, I thought maybe it might be food poisoning, since he was such a porker.” She tapped her foot and flipped through the pages mumbling. Cerberus yipped at her heels and pounced on her toes. She nudged him away, but the dog grabbed her foot with his front paws like a hug as Libitina brought it back down.

“You silly,” she said as she scooped him up again. “Doggy noogies.” She raked her knuckles in a loving, aggressive way across the dog’s head between the ears. Cerberus’s tongue lolled as he panted and wagged his tail, grinning the most fantastic of doggy grins.

“Okay,” she said, setting Cerberus down. “Mommy has to get back to work now. Go be a good boy.” She opened the bedroom door and he romped out ahead of her. He turned to make sure she followed just as she closed the door. He whined and scratched at the barrier a few times, then huffed and lay against it, his collar making a soft scraping noise as he settled.

She opened the book to a detailed photograph of a distressed heart. “Man, I wish I had more time in there. I wanted to see if it looked like this.” She ran her finger over the glossy page. With a sigh, she slammed the book closed and shoved it back onto her shelf.

“Okay, time for a walk, little man.” She grabbed the dog’s leash from a hook on the wall and headed for the front door, Cerberus now panting at her heels. She securely latched him and walked into the green light that filtered through the trees dappling her long driveway. A squirrel crossed their path from left to right, and Cerberus tried to give chase, barking and snarling as he ran. When he caught the end of the leash, his hind legs skidded under him and then out in front, lifting him off the ground for a moment before he landed on his back in the dirt. “No squirrels today, baby,” Libitina said and snickered.

The mailbox waited across the street from her driveway. She held her breath before opening it, not daring to hope that this time… this time would be different. The trees seemed to sigh with her as a gust of wind sent them swaying. A wolf howled in the distance and she shivered. Her dog growled toward the sound. “Don’t worry, Cerby. Mommy won’t let them hurt you.”

Like tearing off a band-aid, Libitina flung open the mouth of the mailbox and peered inside. Would it come today? She threw a coupon newspaper into the trash next to the row of mailboxes.

She tucked the phone bill under her arm and gazed at the green envelope from a private medical school near where she lived. “Oh my god,” she whispered. “They’ve responded.” She held her breath with eyes half-closed as she opened the letter, almost expecting it to self-destruct. She stopped reading at the words,

“We regret to inform you…”

Her head sagged. She wiped away a tear and sighed.

Libitina stood straight, her red hair shining in the sunlight like a warrior maiden, strong and stubborn. Her eyes flashed when she said, “Fuck them! I don’t need their stupid program, their stupid degree. I’ve already learned more on my own than what they’d teach me anyway. Fuck it all. I’ll just keep doing what I’m doing. One day, they’ll notice.”

She stomped back down her driveway, Cerberus getting pulled backward for a step or two since he was trying to sniff at something interesting in the bushes. He skipped along ahead of her, happy to be outside, oblivious to her angst. She smiled at him. “I should be more like you, Cerby. You don’t let nothin’ get you down.” She marched on, letting the latest symbol of her rejection fall from her hand to fly away in the wind.

“They’ll see. I’m good at what I do. They’ll see it, someday.”

She put Cerberus in the back seat of her car and secured him in a doggy harness. She ran inside for a moment. When she returned, her arms were loaded with a shovel, some rope, a lantern, and a lunch box with some snacks for her trip. She wore a brown wig, cut short and styled like a boy’s haircut. The thick mustache and goatee covered the lower part of her face and the bushy eyebrows obscured her blue eyes. A new tattoo of a scantily clad woman decorated the left side of her neck and she wore heavy gold rings on her fingers. The thick flannel jacket she had on masked her actual size. Work boots and jeans completed the ensemble.

“I’m tired of waiting on these assholes.” She flung open her car door. “I need a body to practice on. Dammit! I can’t keep running from hospital security. I know last time didn’t go so well, but I’ll get a fresher one this time.” She dreaded what she meant to do, remembering just how awful the embalmed body she’d dug up had been, and looked back at Cerberus. “Mommy talks to herself too much, doesn’t she baby? I need to start talking to you instead. I will, okay? Okay.” She giggled as she drove away.