The Psyching: A Short Thriller Read Online Free Page A

about
Agatha last night,” Wendy says in a hushed voice, even though we’re
the only two people in the room.
    During the first week of anatomy class, we
named our cadaver Agatha. I hadn’t wanted to name her—after all,
this had once been a real person who had a real name of her own.
But I felt silly voicing my objections, so I stayed quiet as the
other members of my lab group tossed around name suggestions. It
had eventually come down to Agatha or Medusa. I was relieved when
the group settled on Agatha.
    Agatha does seem like an appropriate name,
somehow. “Agatha” is a frail old woman who has metal rings around
her sternum and blood vessels grafted onto her heart. Of course,
it’s impossible to know for sure, but I can make an educated guess
that Agatha died of heart problems.
    I try to imagine what sort
of woman would make the decision to dedicate her body to a medical
school. After everything I’ve seen this year, I know that’s one
thing I myself would never do. The last thing I want is a bunch of snotty
twenty-two-year-olds making fun of all my subcutaneous
fat.
    “ Do you want to hear my
dream, Lauren?” Wendy asks.
    Do I have a choice? “I’m trying to learn the brachial plexus,” I
mumble.
    “ It was so freaky,” Wendy
says, shivering under her green scrubs. “I was lying in bed and I
saw Agatha walk into my room. Alive. She was wearing this long,
fancy dress, but the weird thing was that she had gloves on her
hands. Then she told me…” Wendy leans forward, her blue eyes wide,
“that she was going to dissect me . That’s when I realized that I
was actually on a lab table and I was naked. And my abdomen
was—”
    “ Listen, can we focus,
please?” I snap. I don’t want to admit how disturbing Wendy’s dream
is, especially in a deserted cadaver lab on a Saturday night. Since
I started gross anatomy class, I’ve had many dreams that it was me
or a loved one lying on the table before me. “Our final is Monday
morning and I don’t want to fail, okay?”
    “ I’m going to fail
anyway,” Wendy sighs. “I just can’t… focus.” She picks up the lab
manual and flips through it. “This is like gibberish to me. It’s
impossible.”
    I hold up the musculocutaneous nerve between
my forceps. The nerve is thick and yellow.
    “ I’m hungry,” Wendy
announces. “Are you hungry?”
    “ You’re kidding. You want
to eat in here?”
    When I’m in the anatomy lab, food is the
last thing from my mind. The smell of formaldehyde combined with
the image of lacerated flesh is enough to kill any appetite I might
have had. A few times, I’ve seen one of my classmates popping candy
in their mouth and I’m always in awe.
    “ Of course I wouldn’t eat
in here,” Wendy snorts, even though it wouldn’t have been the most
ridiculous thing she’s ever done in anatomy lab.
    I find it most bizarre that Wendy always
applies a fresh coat of make-up just before starting lab. Although
the uncomfortable heels Wendy wears to lab are a close second. I
always wear sneakers and haven’t put on so much as lipstick in
months.
    “ I’m going to the vending
machines,” Wendy says. “You want something?”
    “ No,” I say. Take your time, I’m
tempted to add.
    Wendy hops off her stool and clip-clops out
of the lab. I hear the heavy metal door slam behind me and the room
is plunged into complete silence. It’s heavenly. I let out a deep
breath I hadn’t even realized I was holding.
    Our final exam in anatomy is on Monday. It’s
the biggest exam we’ve taken so far in the short course of our
medical school career and I want to do well. I’m not as competitive
as some of my classmates, but I hope to land a position in a good
neurology program when I graduate. As part of our exam, we have to
go around this very lab, identifying labeled structures on
different cadavers. I have to know every identifiable structure
back and forth if I want to do well.
    It’s not that Wendy is a bad person, but
I’ve always