CHAPTER 2 - WORKING WITH THE DEAD
The Coroner , Dr. Mason Rodriguez looked at the remains apparently of a young girl being held by a man. There wasn't much left to either except for a few muscle tissues and bones. Although in the morgue of Saint Mary's she had enough equipment to pull their bodies apart and keep them intact enough for a funeral even if it was closed caskets. She had respect for the dead. She understood them and they understood her.
During her life she had no one really. She had watched her parents die. Actually she had watched her father kill her mother then himself. With no other family she was moved to an orphanage. No one adopted her at thirteen. Everyone knew that adults wanted to adopt babies. So they could watch them grow and mold them into what they thought was the perfect child. She was always very smart, but very poor. Having to deal with her parents either fighting or never being home. She had to find something to let her anger out on. School helped a lot. While most kids hated it and dreaded going to school, It was Mason's favorite thing to do. It took her mind off of a lot of things.
She remembered that day vividly. Her dad coming home from work, her mother telling him he was no good, him hitting her, her hitting him back, all with her in the same room just watching with her school books in front of her. Then her dad went to their bedroom and came out with a gun. It all happened so fast Mason didn't even realize it. Except for the ringing that went through her ears that never seemed to leave. She watched as blood poured form her mothers stomach and the look on her fathers face. No remorse and hate. That's all she could do to describe it. He raised the gun again and shot her mother in the head. Mason couldn't move. couldn't scream.
Perhaps that's why she was still alive and she wasn't dead also. Because she seemed dead herself just sitting there like nothing had happened just staring at her mother, dead on the floor. Her dad looked at her, raised the gun to his mouth and the ringing came again. She sat there not even realized that someone had called the police and had come to see what happened. She didn't remember the cops or the firefighters or anyone. She kept replaying what had happened in her mind.
She was put in the psychiatric floor of the very hospital she worked in as a grown up. Therapist said she was in shock and traumatized. That was to explain why she didn't talk and just stared into space , only moving when someone helped her to. She still had nightmares, they said it was normal. Sometimes her medicine helped but most of the time it didn't. so she stayed awake as best as she could taking as many shifts at the morgue as she possibly could.
She came to realize that death frightened most people. To her it didn't. actually it brought her peace. Surrounded by the dead and the only sounds she heard were the clocks ticking or her pen the police folders she'd fill out. It was her job to find evidence of the murdered, too. Any clues. The only problem was the smell, nothing a few bottles of air freshener and masks couldn't fix. Now her she was staring and the now two separate bodies, or "remains, " as many called it.
She felt sorry for them to die such a tragic death. She thought of all the questions that she wanted some answers to. What happened? Why were they down there? Was it suicide? But the question she had really was : who are they ? That was her job to find out. She knew she was in for a long night as she read the police report and neighbor statements. Apparently the deceased were related, though no clarification was made. The neighbors said they didn't hear anything unusual, but called when they said they heard, "faint screams," and saw smoke coming out of the windows of the house and the house itself collapsing.
A bit bothered by the smell of the corpses she placed them on separate gurneys and into " the freezer" as she called it. She looked at their bodies again and a sudden grief swept over her. She put them away and went back to her paperwork not noticing the large black bird sitting on her desk watching the whole time. She looked up unaware and let out a screech at the sight. The bird didn't move at all; didn't even blink.
How did that thing get in her she asked herself. And suddenly remembered an old story. She realized it was a crow and thought of what she had learn in high school about the Greek myth of crows. They were symbols of revenge after Apollo found out about his wives infidelity. Either way she didn't like it. She threw a paperback novel at it sending the bird to fly off into the dark parts of the morgue. The parts she herself didn't like going into.
She sat back down and saw a picture of a young man laying on her desk, one she had never seen before. He was very good looking she had to admit. He looked to be about six foot with a crew cut black hair and a matching goatee. His eyes were that of a deer, large and brown. Bug-eyes she called them. He wore a black suit with no jacket. She thought it might have been a holiday when the picture was taken. Through the thin white shirt she could see tattoos draping the tops of his arms. In his arms he was holding a young girl, though to old to be his daughter. But the world as it was today, who really knew ?
She was no older than ten, but small for her age. Her hair was long and just as the man's it was lack as death. She had a round pale face as if she was afraid of the sun or light at all. She looked almost transparent. She was dressed in, what looked like, a second hand dark blue dress that could have reached to the floor. They both looked so happy, as if it were them against the world. She realized it just might have been that way for them. Suddenly she heard a loud grown coming from the freezer.
The Coroner , Dr. Mason Rodriguez looked at the remains apparently of a young girl being held by a man. There wasn't much left to either except for a few muscle tissues and bones. Although in the morgue of Saint Mary's she had enough equipment to pull their bodies apart and keep them intact enough for a funeral even if it was closed caskets. She had respect for the dead. She understood them and they understood her.
During her life she had no one really. She had watched her parents die. Actually she had watched her father kill her mother then himself. With no other family she was moved to an orphanage. No one adopted her at thirteen. Everyone knew that adults wanted to adopt babies. So they could watch them grow and mold them into what they thought was the perfect child. She was always very smart, but very poor. Having to deal with her parents either fighting or never being home. She had to find something to let her anger out on. School helped a lot. While most kids hated it and dreaded going to school, It was Mason's favorite thing to do. It took her mind off of a lot of things.
She remembered that day vividly. Her dad coming home from work, her mother telling him he was no good, him hitting her, her hitting him back, all with her in the same room just watching with her school books in front of her. Then her dad went to their bedroom and came out with a gun. It all happened so fast Mason didn't even realize it. Except for the ringing that went through her ears that never seemed to leave. She watched as blood poured form her mothers stomach and the look on her fathers face. No remorse and hate. That's all she could do to describe it. He raised the gun again and shot her mother in the head. Mason couldn't move. couldn't scream.
Perhaps that's why she was still alive and she wasn't dead also. Because she seemed dead herself just sitting there like nothing had happened just staring at her mother, dead on the floor. Her dad looked at her, raised the gun to his mouth and the ringing came again. She sat there not even realized that someone had called the police and had come to see what happened. She didn't remember the cops or the firefighters or anyone. She kept replaying what had happened in her mind.
She was put in the psychiatric floor of the very hospital she worked in as a grown up. Therapist said she was in shock and traumatized. That was to explain why she didn't talk and just stared into space , only moving when someone helped her to. She still had nightmares, they said it was normal. Sometimes her medicine helped but most of the time it didn't. so she stayed awake as best as she could taking as many shifts at the morgue as she possibly could.
She came to realize that death frightened most people. To her it didn't. actually it brought her peace. Surrounded by the dead and the only sounds she heard were the clocks ticking or her pen the police folders she'd fill out. It was her job to find evidence of the murdered, too. Any clues. The only problem was the smell, nothing a few bottles of air freshener and masks couldn't fix. Now her she was staring and the now two separate bodies, or "remains, " as many called it.
She felt sorry for them to die such a tragic death. She thought of all the questions that she wanted some answers to. What happened? Why were they down there? Was it suicide? But the question she had really was : who are they ? That was her job to find out. She knew she was in for a long night as she read the police report and neighbor statements. Apparently the deceased were related, though no clarification was made. The neighbors said they didn't hear anything unusual, but called when they said they heard, "faint screams," and saw smoke coming out of the windows of the house and the house itself collapsing.
A bit bothered by the smell of the corpses she placed them on separate gurneys and into " the freezer" as she called it. She looked at their bodies again and a sudden grief swept over her. She put them away and went back to her paperwork not noticing the large black bird sitting on her desk watching the whole time. She looked up unaware and let out a screech at the sight. The bird didn't move at all; didn't even blink.
How did that thing get in her she asked herself. And suddenly remembered an old story. She realized it was a crow and thought of what she had learn in high school about the Greek myth of crows. They were symbols of revenge after Apollo found out about his wives infidelity. Either way she didn't like it. She threw a paperback novel at it sending the bird to fly off into the dark parts of the morgue. The parts she herself didn't like going into.
She sat back down and saw a picture of a young man laying on her desk, one she had never seen before. He was very good looking she had to admit. He looked to be about six foot with a crew cut black hair and a matching goatee. His eyes were that of a deer, large and brown. Bug-eyes she called them. He wore a black suit with no jacket. She thought it might have been a holiday when the picture was taken. Through the thin white shirt she could see tattoos draping the tops of his arms. In his arms he was holding a young girl, though to old to be his daughter. But the world as it was today, who really knew ?
She was no older than ten, but small for her age. Her hair was long and just as the man's it was lack as death. She had a round pale face as if she was afraid of the sun or light at all. She looked almost transparent. She was dressed in, what looked like, a second hand dark blue dress that could have reached to the floor. They both looked so happy, as if it were them against the world. She realized it just might have been that way for them. Suddenly she heard a loud grown coming from the freezer.