Anatomical Dissection Practice
The squeaking sound of the patient's bed continued night after night, and I had absolutely no courage to look outside. Usually I put on headphones and listen to music.
In the days after the practice, I couldn't get the face of the corpse from the cadaver session out of my head. It followed me into my dreams, my appetite decreased because I kept remembering that corpse, and even when I wanted to shower I kept picturing the man's expression.
I became so paranoid that I would open the bathroom door slowly, because in my mind I imagined that the corpse was inside the bathroom. Even though it wasn't there at all.
Today, three days after the first practice, I received a notification that the next session would be held at 18:20. Usually I get the schedule from the WhatsApp group. I wondered—why at dusk? There are more disturbances at night than during the day. I couldn't imagine it.
"Do you all sleep soundly at night?" I asked Fauzi and Delia while we waited in the hospital waiting room for Dr. Ray to arrive.
"After what we've been through, who can sleep soundly?" Fauzi replied, the dark circles under his eyes betraying what he'd experienced.
"I even stayed over at a friend's boarding house," Delia added.
"What did you experience?" I asked, curious.
"Believe it or not, Dik. Every night I dream of an old man coming to my boarding house asking for help," Fauzi told us.
"An old man? Who?" I frowned.
"I don't know. I don't recognize him."
Fauzi and I fell silent. The only thing I could associate with "the old man" was the cadaver we dissected.
"For me, it's the corpse's expression that keeps haunting me. I got so paranoid that I couldn't sleep alone; I spent nights at a friend's place," Delia said, recounting her experience.
"I'm the same, Del. The difference is I keep getting terrorized every night."
"What kind of terror?" Delia and Fauzi asked at the same time.
I told them about the persistent squeaking sound.
"I'd like to check it out to be sure, but I'm scared the bed might be occupied. Imagine if the patient's bed really had a corpse in it, wandering back and forth in front of your room—what would you do?" I shrugged. "I'd rather sleep with my headphones on than look outside," I finished.
"Maybe it's someone from your boarding house pushing a trolley," Delia suggested.
"Logically, why would someone push a trolley around my room at night?"
Delia fell quiet.
"Phew! Good thing I stay at a friend's place," she said.
Before the practice began we performed a ritual. It had become a requirement now—through that ritual we also paid our respects to the cadaver.
Today four practice participants were absent, all four male. Here we were not only required to memorize complicated material, but we also had to be mentally strong; the pressure was extreme.
Seeing the corpse again with that horrifying expression created an unpleasant illusion in our minds. If I lacked pride, I would have begged my parents to let me change majors.
I felt the hairs on my neck stand up the moment I stepped into the practice room; the difference from daytime practice was obvious. The air felt stuffy, like a soundproof room, with only the hum of the AC. Silence dominated the space—I did not expect the corpses to suddenly start talking.
My heart began racing above normal, and my hands trembled the moment I held the surgical instruments. Beads of sweat appeared on my brow, uncontrollable.
"Practice what you have learned," Dr. Ray said. He then told us that this cadaver was our full responsibility.
Delia was the first to step forward. "Sorry, sir. I don't mean to be violent, but I have to practice," she said, holding a scalpel. From her eyes I could tell she was forcing herself to go first, so I stepped up to accompany her, followed by the others.
I closed my eyes for a few seconds to banish negative thoughts so I could focus. Honestly, this dissection stage terrified me the most—after all, this cadaver had been a human, and we are human too. Cutting open his abdomen felt like cutting open my own.
But this was a test to become a doctor; I believed every surgeon had to go through the same, especially surgical trainees. So I refocused on the practice, not wanting what I'd learned to go to waste.
The procedure began in turn as instructed. The nauseating stench spread into my nose the moment the abdomen was opened, even though I wore a fairly thick mask. Some internal organs, like the bowels, had blackened and were covered in clumps of white matter resembling mashed tofu.
For someone seeing human organs directly for the first time, it was definitely not a pretty sight. I forced myself to continue the dissection even as my mind kept rejecting what it saw. My body began to feel weak, my legs trembled, and the worst part was the sensation that the contents of the abdomen were writhing, wanting to escape.
"Be patient, hold on, don't break down," Dr. Ray encouraged, but for me it felt more like a command.
Ooooeeekkkkkk!!
One student ran to the sink and vomited; another followed shortly after. I glanced briefly—their faces were pale and weak. Sandi looked like he was going to faint; maybe because he had emptied his stomach or for other reasons I didn't know. Rendi took Sandi out of the practice room.
Not long after, Dr. Ray came out to check on them. I was sure they would be punished afterward.
We continued the practice; my condition improved after watching my two classmates. Perhaps because my attention was diverted.
There was no joking or chit-chat—we spoke only when necessary. More than talking, the room filled with the clinking of metal instruments being picked up and set down on the stainless table.
"Wooooiii!!"
Bima—no doubt about it—stumbled back in shock as we were concentrating.
"What the hell? Don't scare us like that!" Delia protested.
"I—his finger just moved on its own," Bima said, pointing at the corpse with a frightened face.
We all fell silent and watched the corpse's hand.
"Astaghfirullah!!"
"My God!!"
Everyone stepped away from the cadaver.
We were astonished: how could a corpse whose internal organs had nearly all been removed have moving fingers? I was sure everyone saw it—Bima wasn't lying.
"What's happening now?" Delia groaned, beginning to lose hope. We stood apart, watching the cadaver from a distance.
"Calm down, we can finish this," I tried to reassure them.
"Do all medical students go through things like this? This is too much," Delia said, shaking her head.
Previous story: Cadaver Ghost Story Part 2
I exhaled sharply at her question—because I didn't know how to answer.
I wondered too. We had done everything—rituals, asking permission, and we had never spoken harshly to show respect for the corpses. So why was this still happening?
What was wrong with this cadaver? Why were my friends and I being terrorized?
To be continued...
