Y̶̷͞o͡ų͟͏

You.

How did this happen?

We knew each other in high school, college. Wound up working at the same place, too. Soemtimes, you would follow me, other times, I would follow you.

We wanted to be together. Can you really blame me for that?

I mean, if we were pointing fingers, you would take the blame. This whole disaster is your fault.

But it's okay. I forgive you. I'll always forgive you.

You asked me for that favor. That was how it all started.

You wanted to bring me back to life. Like Dr. Frankenstein, but really closer to Flatliners. We watched that movie together, don't you remember? You were scared, but inspired too, I guess.

And I volunteered. I trusted you.

Maybe we're both at fault.

When I woke up, everything was smoky. Like something in the room had exploded. Something had gone wrong.

Something was wrong with me.

My skin was gray, and mottled. I was slow. Every movement made my joints feel like they were inside out, everything hurt so badly.

But I had to find you.

The lab was abandoned, but outside, I saw others like me. The same gray skin, the same shuffle to their step, the same moans and groans of pain as they walked. Blood leaking from their mouths, their eyes.

I found my way to your house. Many a movie marathon were held in that very living room, the one you were sitting in.

When I knocked, no answer came. And then I looked in the window, and there you were. But you were crying.

And you had a respirator. Why did you have a respirator? Was it in the air?

I tapped on the window, and you screamed. I saw the barrel of a gun, and then it lowered. And you started crying more.

Suddenly, the sound of breaking glass. Three more of those things, the things like me, crashing through. Hungry, unable to stop themselves.

They were after you. They wanted to kill you. And I couldn't let that happen.

My instincts took over. All I saw was red, and then it was over. All three of them, dead, in that living room.

It took me a while to realize you had gone, and even longer to see the blood trail.

I followed it back to your room. When you saw me, you smiled that time. Like you knew I could see you, I could understand you. I wasn't a monster.

You were injured, bad. A piece of glass. We both knew what it meant.

So, we sat together.

You cried, and apologized, and I nodded in response, unable to form words.

And then, you were gone.

I've left you in the house. You always loved that house.

But I had to leave. Because you were my best friend, and I forgave you.

And I'm hungry.