I Want to Dissect My Way to Your Heart

A month has passed since I had my last savory taste of meat. And if given the choice, I would probably prefer life to continue this way— in its comically miserable, meatless state.

When I think about this sudden shift to a vegetarian lifestyle, I begin to question my past morals and everything I had advocated for before I had “awakened.” It’s scary how one day, something inside us just clicks— either by some propelling outside force or a spontaneous chemical reaction inside the brain— and suddenly, what we had grown to love for years had become the very object of extreme disgust. To me, that was how I felt when it came to eating meat.

I could only bitterly reminisce about our parting encounter which took place in a greasy, smoke-filled barbeque restaurant located on the dining strip in Asiatown. A dozen of us huddled around a long varnished wooden table, equipped with charcoal grills at the midline. The young blonde waitress would swoop in from time to time and serve us heavy platters of beef and pork packed. We grilled the raw cuts until our hands cramped from holding the tongs and afterwards, we downed each piece to our stomach’s content.

We called this gathering, the “Last Supper.” It was an unspoken ritual for the first-year medical students of our college. We simply decided to stick to this special tradition at the behest of Dr. Rosalind, our anatomy professor.

“I suggest you eat as much meat as you can during the weekends,” she continued, “since it will be hard to swallow some once we start our dissections next week.”

On the awaited day, Dr. Rosalind led us to the stale, dim basement of our department’s building. We had to pass through a multi-room entry sequence, each separated by glass panels, before we got to the main dissection room. Each chamber was guarded by heavy doors installed to maintain a negative air pressure.

Inside the central premises, there were two rows of steel tables each with its own fleshy spectacle. I stood still, not budging much from the entrance, as I watched my classmates quickly dissolve into the vast expanse of the rectangular room. Each of them assumed their own spot like it was their own natural trajectory and curiously surveyed what had initially drawn them. Most, however, drifted towards the nearest cadaver.

I suffered from an overwhelming fit of emotions as each of my senses were violently assailed— my eyes horrified by the unsightly scene, my nose bombarded by the pungent stench of formalin, and soon enough, my fingers which palpated an unsettling variety of textures.

As the laboratory sessions commenced with each upcoming week, the whole class eventually developed a close familiarity to this new strange friend, which remained silent and unmoving. They even proposed to give her a term of endearment, namely, ‘Cady.’

On the other hand, I mostly played the part of an observer. I refrained from involving myself and only participated a handful of times if really necessitated— such as when Dr. Rosalind randomly asked me to point to the external carotid artery, or when we were all instructed to slide our fingers in the slimy, close-knitted structures to separate the fascia from the muscle. But for the most part of class, I hovered behind the crowd, unable to see the demonstrations due to the army of bobbling heads right in front.

Was I overthinking it? Unlike my peers who sooner or later adapted, and even enjoyed laboratory work, I remained avoidant and closed off in my own little bubble of comfort. I started reasoning with myself to overcome this unreasonable fear: It was just a human being, just like me— so what’s there to be scared of?

But the more I stole glances at it and the more the stinging sensation of formalin penetrated my eyes, the doubt also exponentially increased. I began to question, “Was this thing really human?”

I mean, it didn’t look like me. Instead, it appeared to me like a bloated frog floating on a muddy river. So if that was indeed me, then we were basically interchangeable. This body could be wearing a labcoat just like me and performing dissections— and I, in some alternate universe of some sort, would be the cold naked body lying on the table being dissected. I shuddered at the thought.

One day, the session was nearing an end when Dr. Rosalind asked, “If it’s not too much, I would really appreciate it if someone were to stay behind and help me.”

The chatters ceased and the room went silent. No one volunteered. It was obvious that most wanted to rush out of their stuffy lab coats and get home.

I swallowed a lump in my throat before softly proclaiming, “I’ll help.”

Once everything was over, she instructed me, “Stay here, I’ll go tell the staff we’re done.”

I positioned myself in a stool near the foot of Cady’s dissecting table. With nothing else to do, I audaciously looked at her as if proud of my little accomplishment— I had done what others may have easily chickened out from.

It was already nearing seven in the evening when we had concluded our cleanup. Hence, I felt sleepy and rubbed my eyes.

Just then, in the corner of my eye I felt something move.

I was sure that the odd movement came from Cady. My eyes fell on her hand. It twitched and contorted.

No way. “I must be crazy,” I thought.

I obsessively fixated my widely opened eyes on Cady as if waiting for it to happen again. I was looking for some sort of confirmation. But Cady remained as still as a rock.

I felt a tap on my shoulder.

“Ack!”

“You—,” Dr. Rosalind was cut off and startled at the sudden, unmanly noise I let out. Nevertheless, she pathetically smiled once she understood and continued “—can go home now.”

***

A month had elapsed since the incident.

I fidgeted the salad greens on the metal tray with a flimsy fork. The cafeteria food was horrendous. It was an abomination of dry tomatoes, hard carrots, metallic-tasting cucumber, and cabbage leaves wilting at ends like burned paper. But sure enough, it was better than having to deal with meat and anything else that evoked a faint hint of resemblance of Cady and her beef jerky-like carcass.

Two consecutive bangs of metal trays landing on the table startled me from my daydreaming escapades.

“Here’s the loverboy!” Presley, a senior, enthusiastically announced as he positioned himself beside me. Sophia followed, she made herself comfortable on the seat across from me.

I contorted my face in a confused expression upon hearing his remarks.

“He’s been telling everyone he saw you with some woman,” Sophia explained.

”I guess it’s about time you get yourself a woman,” He continued.

”Impossible.”

However, Presley didn’t easily back down. He won’t shut up and insisted that he had seen me driving around campus with a presumed lover last Friday evening.

“Friday? Then it must be after our anatomy lab,” Sophia, who happened to be my classmate, pondered out loudly.

”Exactly. Then that would only mean I went straight home.” I added in my defense, “I mean who the hell in their right mind would take a girl out while reeking of formalin and the dead?”

At this formidable piece of evidence, Presely pouted his lips. He silently chewed on his potato coquettes as if dismayed from the lack of gossip about my lovelife.

Then, his expression darkened as he dropped his fork.

“Y-you say you went alone… But are you sure no one has followed you?” He continued, ”Like what if some ghost or—.” He stopped just about when Sophia forcefully kicked him under the table.

His words echoed in my head. If a ghost had somehow indeed slipped its way in the back of my car, would I have really noticed?

Presley snickered and I quickly dismissed the thought as I realized he was playing around.

***

Friday came. We were greeted with an empty, spotless dissecting table. Cady was nowhere to be found. But soon enough, the workers brought a fresh new replacement which was readily welcomed by the class. No one raised any further qualms.

I stuck around after the session was over to assist Dr. Rosalind in our routine restoration of the presently disheveled state of the laboratory. We had set about gathering the soiled instruments when I perceived there was a third character in the room. Sophia lingered in a far end corner to the right. Then, she soundlessly approached and inquired in an uneasy voice, “Dr. Rosalind, where’s Cady?”

The soft clanks of the metal tools were put to a pause. Immediately, the three of us halted and entered an uncomfortable, awkward state of silence. Only the whirring of the decrepit ventilation system was audible, of course, with the sole exception of my otherwise furiously throbbing breast.

Dr. Rosalind broke the hush. “Oh, Cady as in the cadaver right?” She collapsed into a fit of laughter.

“Most likely, the workers had her disposed of.”

The immense relief dispersed throughout the entirety of my formerly rigid body. I released a breath I didn’t even realize I was holding, as if it had expelled all the pent up frustration and terror that accumulated from the past sleepless nights. But this peace of mind was short-lived. As I drove back home, Dr. Rosalind’s words kept replaying in my mind and soon enough, my overanalyzing brain soon found something to pick at.

“Most likely?” I dwelled on the exact phrase. You mean to say she isn’t sure?

I spiralled into a mental abyss. That day, I developed a bad habit of not looking at the rearview mirror. I dreaded that maybe I’ll lock eyes with an atrocious creature instead of the winding road being reflected back. I peeked as little as possible and every time I did, I was sweaty and trembling from panic— as if I was expecting to see something horrible. I swear if this persisted, either I was going to eventually meet eyes with the cadaver or end up as one, due to my reckless driving.

However, neither came true.

Before long, matters concerning the paranormal had fizzled down. The thoughts of the supernatural came less frequently and I presumed my normal life. This was an inevitable outcome of the passing of time— everything was, sooner or later, bound to be forgotten. I found myself eating meat again. I had gone back to checking the rearview mirror. Cady had become just another one of the countless cadavers we handled in class. Sometimes, I would remember the odd coincidence as just some funny story to tell as an icebreaker during our drinking nightouts.

Eventually, my mind also became preoccupied with a woman.

Madelyn arrived like a fresh dewdrop of spring in what I considered to be the “bleakest winter” of my stagnant life.

One day, when I had been frantically rushing with a bundle of report papers in hand, I came crashing towards a figure that had blocked my path. The papers exploded and dramatically drifted to the ground like confetti, eventually revealing the mysterious figure which was a face of a woman with the most angelic grace.

Perhaps I was so bewildered by her extraordinary beauty that before I had even time to think about it, I had blurted in the most ungentlemanly fashion, “You look familiar. Have we met before?”

When the words dropped from my mouth and sent a reverberating unpleasantness to my ears, I instantly cringed and regretted my uncontrolled impulses. I wanted to smack the back of my head right there and then.

I slowly lifted my eyes to meet hers, wholly prepared to sustain a repulsed response befitted to my uncouthful, unapologetic demeanor. But instead, her stupefied physiognomy, which resulted from the earlier collision, instantly transformed into a radiant grin followed by a hearty chuckle.

“That’s so lame!”

That chance encounter on one perfectly unsuspecting Monday afternoon struck me like a comet collision that had changed my entire universe’s alignment.

Prior to meeting Madelyn, I was only acquainted with the limited circle of the medical community. But this time around, a refreshing persona had entered my line of view. This character gleamed with an outgoing, carefree attitude. She had lacked what I was accustomed to—the exhausted face that signified countless nights of studies and the pretentious airs of a condescending erudite.

I wasn’t also jabbering about some sappy metaphor when I related her to spring and all its glory. To be precise, our encounters were often laced with a strong fragrance of chrysanthemums. Whenever I met her, the scent of the blossoms wafted through the air. Originally, I had thought it to be a figment of my imagination but soon enough, I discovered it was her signature perfume. It was exceptionally heady and intense, but it was a scent that I would always unknowingly search and hope for.

Effortlessly, we clicked. She’d accompany me as I continued to pursue my studies in the intimate interiors of the library. During these shared experiences, she was stuck in her own world— sometimes, reading a pocketbook, listening to music with her snug pair of headphones, or defenselessly taking a nap. Nevertheless, her quiet presence never failed to bring me a sense of comfort despite the fact I was rushing deadlines and catching up to lessons.

On rare occasions, she’d even hold my hand and say, “Again, your eyebrows are all furrowed up.” Then, the cold sensation of her delicate fingers would soothe the intense emotions I would be enduring. that day.

What was seemingly an unintentional accident had transformed into a fit of youthful passion pursued by the both of us alike.

***

It was a chilly evening when I was walking her back to the front door of the dormitory building when I noticed she had an insanely pallor face and mottled skin, both which was casually exposed by her quarter sleeve knit dress. Her movements were unfamiliar and rigid. It felt as if the blush of spring had been drained from her. Naturally, I inquired if she had been feeling alright.

“It’s just that… it’s been getting extremely cold lately.”

I nodded. We were well into the deep of December.

“These days, I find it extremely hard especially when heaters in the dormitory aren’t working.”

”This won’t do…” I commanded in a worrisome tone. “I can take you to my apartment. It’s nice and warm there.”

We instantly turned back and drove home to my apartment. As she relaxed herself with a nice steaming shower, I cooked some soup from the random assortment I fished out from the fridge. Slowly, her vitality regained as she gulped each spoonful of the broth. Afterwards, she pawed through my kitchen like a curious cat and discovered a stock of canned beers. She insisted on drinking together.

"Alcohol makes me feel warm.”

We situated our little drinking party in the living room. All the time, I was discretely watching her as she watched a late night talk show on the television. The next second, I could immediately tell she was already feeling groggy. I glanced at the clock, it was past twelve.

”Let’s go to sleep.”

”Not yet,” she protested with a sly look.

She flung her arms around me. Again, it’s that intoxicating scent of chrysanthemums. I swooped her light body and carried her to a different room.

Then, I found myself staring at the exquisiteness of her naked body that laid there open in all its grandeur. Closely, I examined each of her delicate features. Her fair complexion didn’t dare hide the purplish veins running through her limbs like some expertly painted artwork of branching birch trees. Her eyes were fixed on me, they were a clear hazel brown with a perfect curvature. Her lips were pronounced and intensely captivating. Under the command of my clumsy hands, the entirety of her body relaxed like a still pond on a windless day.

“I’ll begin now,” I declared.

That night, I explored every inch of her body— not as a gentle lover with delicate hands, but as a dissector with an irrational thirst for anatomical knowledge. When the harsh morning light eventually seeped through the curtains of the room, all that was left was her cold body. It was pried out open with each structure labelled using pins, distinctly reproducing the dissected works back in school. Thankfully, the stolen instruments I had carefully slipped in my pocket during the laboratory cleanups were of huge help.

I listlessly stood in front of the bloody aftermath of my work. My legs were shaking and tired.

People say that a way to a girl's heart is through her stomach. Some say to invest in time and court her. Others believe that they can enamor her with expensive gifts and flowers. I say, that's too complicated. In actuality, you only need a scalpel and some forceps.

Suddenly I collapsed to my knees, feeling an impending sense of doom. Something felt amiss. I looked in the corner of my eye and peaking right through the closet, I saw Cady. She had been watching all this time. I wonder how she felt now that I discarded her for a better specimen.

The more I stared at her, the more it felt like she was trying to tell me something.

It hit me and I instantly jolted up. “Right, I should get my car windows tinted,” I muttered to myself.