Dead Med

by Freida McFadden

What the hell was that all about? Almost like he’s hiding something, isn’t it?

probably sound like a tool saying this, but I want Sasha to be my girlfriend. I’m going to talk her into it somehow. I can be very persuasive.

The television? Could it be the television? I walk over to the set and examine it for a second—it’s not turned on. The stereo is off too. And besides, they said my name. Where the hell did that voice come from?

I don’t know what I had expected to find. But I hadn’t expected to find a .357 Magnum.

Take the gun. The sound of the command startles me, and I nearly drop the gun on the floor. I blink my eyes, desperately looking around the room. “Who’s there?” I snap. The room is empty.

“You better never screw up, Mason,” she says. “They’ll eat you alive.” For some reason, I think of the Magnum still in my pocket.

Erin seems properly impressed by this. She then reveals she’s a junior at DeWitt College, and she’s majoring in art history. My mother would love this girl. They could have a blast discussing Monet or some crap like that.

An anatomy professor has got to have some connections to the local morgue, right? Maybe there are strings he can pull to get a body to come to him rather than risking an autopsy. And once a body gets ripped apart in the anatomy lab, there’s no chance of finding out the real cause of death.

He’s not murdering students and hiding bodies in the cadaver lab. Stuff like that doesn’t happen in real life. And that’s when I hear that deep voice again: Think about it. What sorts of things can kill a man but won’t show up on a routine anatomy lab dissection? Seems like Conlon would know.

He knows I’m onto him—I can see it in his eyes. I’ve turned myself into a threat, and now he has to deal with me. But I won’t go down without a fight.

For starters, if you watch him walk, it’s clear he’s faking—he alternates which leg he limps on. Sometimes, it’s his right, sometimes, his left. I’m pretty sure of that.

Sasha seems pleased by the attention, but she doesn’t get it. Dr. Conlon’s attention is not something she wants. And Sasha is so small and sweet and vulnerable—and she wants so desperately to do well in anatomy. If Dr. Conlon offered her some drugs with the promise of a higher score on the next exam, would she be able to refuse?

but when I wake up suddenly at three in the morning (which has been happening more and more lately), he’s lying in his own bed, snoring softly.

A shiver goes through my body. What has Frank’s corpse been contaminated with? What are we being exposed to?

This arm hasn’t just been dissected—it’s been destroyed. The muscles are ripped apart, the skin is sliced into pieces… and when I look down at Frank’s legs, they’re in the same condition. Frank’s arms and legs are all ripped to shreds.

“You’re close, Mason,” a gruff voice speaks up. “Don’t give up.” I jump, startled. It’s the same voice I’ve been hearing all along but louder and clearer. I look around the room, trying to figure out where the voice came from.

Sasha is right. I’m just putting too much stress on myself. Or maybe… I unlock the door to my car, trying to push away the thoughts intruding on my brain. I have to get home. I have to get to sleep. I have to study. Or maybe she’s in on it too.

I grab my car keys off my dresser, and as I drop them into my pocket, I feel the cold metal against my fingers. My father’s Magnum.

And then, I hear that horrible voice again in my ear. Take the gun, Mason. I slowly remove my hand from my pocket, leaving the gun inside. Not so fast. You still have to load it.

Is he scizophhrenic?

“Oh, Christ,” Dr. Conlon mutters, shaking his head. “Listen to me, Mason. I didn’t kill anyone. I have no idea what you’re talking about. You need to calm down.” “Don’t try to trick me!” I snap. I press the muzzle of the Magnum into Dr. Conlon’s forehead. “Who has the gun, huh?”

He deserved this. You did what you had to do. “Shut up!” I scream. I bury my face in my hands and rock back and forth. I’ve done something too horrible for words.

Then her gaze drops to the gun in my hand. She freezes in her tracks as her lips form a little surprised “O.” She has put two and two together, and now her fate is sealed.

Patrice opens her mouth as if to say something, but I don’t want to hear it. I raise the gun, and for the second time tonight, I pull the trigger.

And I’m not leaving here until every single potential witness is dead.

“Conlon’s Law of Finger Flexion,” whatever that is.

No matter what. Because Mason has one quality that I don’t possess: charisma.

It’s a copy of our last anatomy quiz, with a grade of one hundred circled at the top. That’s how I discover Mason is 20205. And that’s when things go horribly wrong.

I remember how my father was haunted by voices he started hearing in his head and visions of things that weren’t there.

There’s only a seedling of an idea in my head as I shove the bottle into my pocket.

NOOOOO SHE GONNA GET MASON

When I feel certain I’m alone, I pull my father’s bottle of pills out of my pocket. I open the bottle and remove a single capsule. I break it open and let the contents dissolve into one of the cups of coffee.

OMG IT ALL MAKES SENSE

He’s talking faster and louder than I’ve ever heard him speak before, and I can’t help but wonder if it’s a side effect of the medication. Nah, probably not.

Mason Howard is flirting with me. It seems so impossible. I mean, I’m not ugly or anything, but Mason is… well, Mason.

stop dropping the dopamine capsules in Mason’s coffee after that. Considering he’s sort of my… well, he’s not my boyfriend, but he’s definitely something to me.

The next day, I start putting dopamine capsules in Mason’s coffee again. Except this time, I put in two instead of one.

Oh shittttt

He startles, even though I’m sure he must have heard me come into the room. For a moment, he looks at me like he has no idea who I am. Then he shakes his head as if to clear it and offers me an uneven smile. “Hi,” he says.

“Your mother says you gave her a ring…” I study his face, watching his reaction. “Sienna and I broke up before college ended.” He lifts a shoulder. “I never gave her a ring.” “Oh.”

“But so what if I did? What’s the difference to you?” Mason has never spoken to me that way before, and it feels like a slap in the face. Maybe I’m not his girlfriend, but he’s always at least treated me with respect.

He looked awful, especially for Mason, but I just assumed it was because of the marathon studying.

No. No way. It was just a few pills. Dad used to take like five of those a day, and at worst, I only gave Mason two a day. And besides, I haven’t given him any pills in weeks.

Rachel smiles. “Thanks,” she says, “although I can’t totally take credit. Matt was helping me with it earlier.” Matt? Who’s Matt? There’s nobody in the class named Matt.

Uh oh slip up

Holy shit, they’re sleeping together.

She fhe one who wanted th finals answrs

Why should Rachel be the only one to benefit from her little scheme?

No, nobody can find out about this. After all, what’s the worst that can happen?

Rachel whispers in my ear, “Sasha, don’t…” I don’t know what that means, though.

I want Mason to sink deeper and deeper into the hole. So deep that he can never crawl out.

The dopamine capsules are long out of his system, though—the matter is out of my hands. Mason has friends, a roommate, and his family to look out for him. It shouldn’t all fall on my shoulders.

He’s having his first lucid moment in a long time, and he’s realizing what is happening to him. It’s almost heartbreaking. Almost.

But I can’t. Not after everything I’ve done to him. Just looking at him makes me hate myself.

I don’t know what to say. All this time, I thought Dr. Conlon barely knew who I was.

“Mason Howard…” Rachel’s eyes well up with a new batch of tears. “He… he shot Dr. Conlon!” Oh God…