The nature of my job is considered by some to be unnatural. I provide a service needed by many, appreciated by few. Families grieve when they lose someone close. Their emotions break control, screaming, crying, and sometimes fighting. What I appreciate most of all is the peacefulness of those who have passed on. They never complain, never react to the silly world around them. Then again, they are dead.
Each body is different, having different needs. Each one is like a child, needing my special care. I go to great lengths to dress them, clean them, and make them presentable. This can be challenging at times. Most do not look as good as when they were living. Some come in mutilated, decapitated, missing parts. I do my best, admiring my work when the living can still recognize the dead.
Once in a while, I get a special treat. A young body comes in without scars or blemishes, perfectly beautiful. She drowned in a lake either by accident, suicide, or murder. The details of how she came to me do not matter. She has black raven hair, soft as silk, and pale smooth buttery skin, cold as ice. Purple lips are slightly open, willing, wanting, my delicate touch.
She talks to me. Not like the others. I hear her sweet voice in my head. She cries in stillness, feeling cold and alone. I am no monster. I must comfort her, shielding her from the darkness that awaits her. I close my doors, turn off the lights, and go to her siren's call.
Together, we sleep. Together, we embrace, knowing only peaceful silence. The dim lights of my lab lose their shine. I'll stay with you till morning. I'll keep you warm with heat of my passion. You have nothing to be afraid of.
Once morning comes, I finish my work, dressing her, polishing her nails, doing her makeup. She is never more beautiful than she is at this moment. Then I realize something different in her. There's a growing bulge in her belly that wasn't there last night.