Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. No infringements intended. All original intellectual property is solely owned by its creator; the author.

Two

The surgeons had already begun to work when Jasper walked back into the conference room. The cloth had been removed from the faces. Each decapitated being resembled a waxy mask. Their expressions twisted variations of agony that seemed to reach beyond the grave.

The buzz in Jasper's ear was getting louder; the room was beginning to tilt.

"Are you alright dear?" Esme brushed back the hair from his forehead as if to check his temperature. While she would certainly find his skin clammy, there was no fever, just a cold sweat.

"I'll be alright. Just a little uncomfortable is all." He forced a smile. "I suppose it's a good thing I'm majoring in chemistry instead to general medicine."

She giggled. It was a lovely sound, but he felt it might have been a bit inappropriate considering their circumstances. "You aren't the first student Dr. Cullen has recruited for these seminars and you certainly aren't the first - or last - to be squeamish with all this."

They glanced over to the tables. With scalpels in hand the doctors were beginning the facial anatomy review. As they started to peel the skin off the faces, he quickly averted his eyes, his gaze landing on the silent stranger from the hall. Jasper noted he was still being studied by the man.

"Esme, do you know who that guy is?"

She casually followed his stare. "Yes. That's Mr. Masen."

Masen. The medical examiner. The beheader. "Oh." He replied lamely.

"...You will notice the skin is very pliable. Almost as if you are skinning poultry." Dr. Cullen's voice carried through the room. "And there is no blood; however this won't be the case with your actual patients."

The group of surgeons chuckled; the sound resonated through Jasper's head. He realized he'd missed the joke.

"Maybe you should sit down Mr. Whitlock?" Concern clouded Esme's pretty features.

"No, it's okay. But maybe..." He licked his lips and attempted to forge on. "Maybe some fresh air might be a good idea though?"

"Yes, good idea." Esme patted his back as he headed for the door once more.

His steps were heavy, pins and needles pricked his every movement as if his legs had fallen asleep.

"Dr. Cullen? What are these lateral scars on the skulls?" One of surgeons questioned.

"Ah, yes. The heads - pardon me, the chiefs - of surgery for the University have sequestered the donor's brains."

"Whatever for?"

"I haven't the foggiest."

The doors closed behind Jasper. While the air in the hall was noticeably less dense here, the pungent formalin smell still lingered. He felt a nudge in his stomach that was clearly nausea related.

With great effort, he made his ascent up the corridor, his fingertips breezing along the wall to guide him. He was sure he could do this. Like he said, he only needed some fresh air and then he'd be -

He heard the conference room doors open and slam shut behind him.

"Hey! Wait up a minute." Someone called to him.

Jasper spun around to acknowledge the voice. That was a mistake. The ground fell away and rushed towards him all at once, before everything went black.

Thanks for reading!