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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2279399-I-am-a-Zombie
by Emma
Rated: E · Short Story · Contest Entry · #2279399
A girl who has become a zombie tries to fight the monster within her.
I drag my useless right foot along with me as I follow the others. I can't be a leader. Not here. At least, this is the excuse I tell myself.

If I had to pick one plus to all of this, it would be the lack of pain. I know my right ankle is broken, but when I look down at it I don't feel the pain that should be there. When I touch the bite mark on my left wrist, or even the gaping hole in my chest, I don't feel anything. However, I would easily choose to bear through the pain if it meant I didn't have to be this.

Being in a group our size means that food goes away quickly, so recently we've had to make do with animals. Most of the others gripe about the taste, but I don't care. In fact, I prefer staying in a group of us so large, as long as it means we don't get to eat a lot of humans.

I don't want to be a monster.

Another one of us - a male, I believe, turns around abruptly, an eager look on his broken face. Others around me turn around as well, clawing their way through the crowd and groaning with excitement. A second later, I am hit with the sweet scent of human flesh, and I turn as well. Usually, I try to fight the scent, refusing to allow the monster within me to take control. But today I don't show any restraint, allowing the scent to flood through me.

Through my clouded vision, I spot six humans, armed with only a single handgun. They look like the survival type, and already I can tell that they have killed many of us before. In order to kill one of us, you have to rip open the place where we were bitten in the first place. For me, like most others, I was bitten on my wrist, the easiest place to reach. This is where the armed man aims at us, only successfully knocking one of us down permanently. His gun clicks when he pulls the trigger, meaning he has run out of ammo. He looks around at the other men, a panicked look in his eyes. Just when I am about to follow the others towards the six men, something to my right catches my attention.

A young woman, maybe in early twenties, cowers between two brick walls as she watches the men with scared eyes. I find myself walking over to her, her warm scent burning the air as I reach closer.

The girl doesn't notice me until I'm only a few yards away, too short of a distance for her to be able to get away. I wish she had noticed me sooner. I look her over, memorizing every inch of her body, from her ragged clothes to the color of her hair, just like I do to all of my victims. I'm not exactly sure why I do this. Part of me thinks that it's because I believe that if my every kill is somehow etched into my mind, it'll somewhat make it seem more forgivable. I'm not sure. As I am looking at her, however, I think for a second that she almost looks familiar. I frown as I try to dig deeper into my mind. My human memories are faint, but still there. It's possible.

She looks at me with deep chocolate-colored eyes, and a whimper escapes from her mouth. She recoils, trying to back away from me, but then trips over an uneven piece of sidewalk behind her. But instead of trying to regain her place and run away, instead she cocks her head to the side. An oily piece of brown hair falls into her face as she whispers in a raspy voice, "Mia?"

I stop in my tracks. I stare at her, the burn of her scent still in the back of my mind. She stands up, slowly at first, reaching a hand out cautiously. "Is that you?" she asks. "Is it really you?" She looks at me for a moment, then walks over and takes my hand. She turns it over and rubs it with her thumb. The burn in my throat is noticeably stronger now, but not overbearing. I continue to just stand there.

"Oh, Mia," she mumbles sadly, almost to herself. "You were always so strong, such a fighter. I thought..." She shakes her head, looking back down at my hand.

I still stand there, looking at her curiously as she rubs her finger over my bite mark. For once, my hunger isn't on the front of my mind, but its still there. I decide not to move, too afraid that if I do, it could somehow make the scent stronger again.

The girls jerks her head up, looking at me with a new look in her eyes. "You were always so strong, Mia. Maybe you can fight through this. My group - we can take you back to our camp, maybe, and teach you how to fight through it," she says. "Maybe - maybe you can be human again."

I stare back at her, into her human eyes, and I believe her. I believe that I can be human again. I want to be human again. I can imagine it - being with the humans, fighting the urge to tear through their flesh. It will be hard, sure. But what if there comes a day when it's not anymore? If this simple human can believe that, then maybe it's true.

I open my mouth to reply to the girl, when the wind suddenly shifts. The girl's scent washes through me, and suddenly I think of something she said.

Maybe.

I forget all about the possibility of being human again. Instead, I bend over, and bite her face. She screams. And that's when I realize something for the first time.

I am a zombie.

Word Count: 994
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