The phone rang.
"Hello? Yes. Space? We've got it. Two bodies? Oh, three and a head. Okay. Yes, of course. Today? Anytime. Examinations? On all of them? Yes sir. Of course sir. You are very welcome. Thank you sir."
The phone clicked.
I pulled my hair back into a ponytail and got three stations ready. Also a space for the head. I couldn't forget about the head. The detectives like to bring in the bodies, drop them off with a list of what they need done, and the request of everything being done in a certain amount of time. Three bodies and a head would typically be seven and a half hours, but when the police needed an autopsy and examinations done, it would be no more than four hours. They like things to go fast. Impossibly fast. But I could do it. That's why I joined this career field. I was good at it, fast at it, and I didn't have to worry about co-workers and a million and one people trying to talk to me. It was me and my dead bodies. And I liked that.
I guess I never really thought about joining this field. I just wanted something to keep me in a working position, earning money, and with as little "alive" human contact as possible. I'm okay with people, don't get me wrong, I just like nice alive people. And dead people seemed to be the nicest of all. They didn't judge you, laugh or stare, or do anything bad to you. They were peaceful. Quiet. Nice.
Primary school and secondary school is what drove me to isolation; What drove me to wanting something like this. Growing up I was awkward. My lips were small, my body proportions were off, I was short... I was just awkward. That was just the beginning. Then secondary school started. My lips were still small, I grew a little which made me tall-ish, but I was still awkward. People didn't want to be my friend because I liked weird things. Weird music, I liked to read, I was just different. I wasn't accepted. People would stare, and point, and laugh at me. It didn't help that my family didn't have money. I wore hand-me-downs and we couldn't afford nice things, which also got me laughed at. At a certain point, I just stopped caring. I was in a low spot. But then I found my niche. Dead people.
That's how I ended up here. With dead people.
My name is Molly Hooper, and I love working with dead people.
The new bodies finally arrived at half past noon like promised. The head would arrive at two.
"Ms. Hooper, I would like this completed on body one. This is on body two. This the third. And this is for the head. Thank you. I'll be back at two with the head and back at five for results." He handed me the papers and walked out. Detective Inspector Lestrade. Good man. Good heart.
And so it began. Exam after exam. Test after test. Then two o'clock rolled around and right on the dot, Lestrade walked in with the head.
"Here you go. A head." He handed it over, almost disgusted with the fact that even began to enjoy this.
"Thank you!" And I set the head on his table.
Before he walked out of the door he turned to me. "Will you be home for dinner tonight?" He asked.
"If I get done with all of this. It seems like I'm a head of schedule." I stopped and laughed. A head. Ha.
"Okay, just don't be too late. Thanks again." He smiled and left.
Home for dinner. I didn't want to go home for dinner. I didn't want to be home for dinner. I really didn't care about dinner, I just didn't want to be home, at all. That's also another thing about this job. Crazy hours sometimes. Sort of. I get to pick my hours. Sort of. I just don't like going home.
And that is final.