Murderous Revenge.

          When I first woke up a week ago my mind could not comprehend what my eyes were seeing, which sent me into a state of shock. I woke up on a cold hard table and when I went to sit up, I left my body laying behind me. Shock hit me like a ton of bricks, and I jumped so fiercely I fell to the floor. I looked up from the floor to see my hand hanging over the side of a silver metal table. I looked around and realized I was in the morgue. My heart raced and I shut my eyes tight in hopes that when I opened them, I would be in bed with my husband and he would tell me that its just a nightmare. When I opened my eyes, I was blinded with the realization that I was sitting on the floor and I was also laying on a cadaver table.             I will never be able to describe the thoughts and emotions that run through your mind when you look at your own dead body. I stood up and looked down at myself laying there, and my first thought was that I did not even look dead. I was still in the silver cocktail dress I had worn to the New Year’s Eve party the night before. I looked nothing like anyone I had seen at a funeral, I still had color to my skin. The shock of everything was so strange that I had not even heard someone walk up to the table next to me. A man in a white jumpsuit turned on a voice recorder, he set it down on a silver tray next to him.             “January 1st, 2020, the time is 6:32 am,” he looked down at his watch as he checked the time and then grabbed the latex gloves off the table next to the recorder and put them on. The way he slid the glove down and stretched his fingers out like you see every tv doctor do for dramatic effect, made chills run up my spine. At this point I do not know if it was the shock or the curiosity that kept me standing there listening to my own autopsy.             “Time of death, January 1st, 2020 at 2:02 am.” Hearing the time that I had died didn’t sit well with me because I couldn’t even remember the count down into the new year, let alone where or what I was doing at the time I had died. This is not real; this must be a dream. I slapped myself in the face, half expecting the man to jump and look at me like I was a crazy person. I felt pain, that means this is a dream, right?!  The Medical examiner grabbed onto my body’s arm and turned my body on its side, for a split second I thought I could feel his latex glove on my arm. I looked down and l saw myself for the first time and realized I looked as alive as the man next to me. Hope surged through me for half a second until the man spoke again,             “Cause of death, bullet wound to the back of the head.” He turned my body back to face up towards the ceiling and grabbed a scalpel off the tray. Another man in a white jumpsuit walked up out of no where and began to take the dress off my body. My natural reaction was to run over and grab the man so he could not force the clothes off my body and see me naked, but I suddenly stopped and looked at my outstretched arm and started to cry. I felt more hopeless than I ever had in all my 30 years.  I watched as the medical examiner placed the tip of the scalpel to my bare skin and sliced down my chest.             I blacked out at this point, and just stood there zoned out in zombie mode. Ironic huh? Time almost stood still as the two men cut and pulled at all my insides and outsides of my body. Every once and awhile one of them would talk to the recorder and say some nonsense that I could not even understand. They sounded far away and as if they were under water. Everything became muffled and blurry, then as suddenly as I woke up the silence quickly pressed on me and a white haze clouded the entire room.             The next thing I know I am looking down at my bare feet standing on the wet grass.