The embalmers had worked to the best of their abilities, but regardless of any chemicals that are pumped into it, human flesh will eventually rot and return to dust. The skin was still thick, but now it was cracking like a dying tree. Her eyes were blotted out by maggot holes and a rotted hole at the temple exposed repugnant bone and flesh, ripped away by the creatures of the underground. The skin at the base of her neck where the men had cut it hung like shreds of material, painful even to look at as the stub of her spine protruded from just below her now dry and silent vocal cords. The make-up the mortician had artfully applied had smeared down her face as if she had been crying in death. Her once beautiful hair was now knotted and tangled, and his knuckles ripped into the mess of it as
