Ppov
After the cure had been delivered by the four immunes, the heroes of my generation, life had returned to normal…mostly. There were no more zombies; bombs containing an anti-infectant had been dropped across the world, slowly and painfully curing all the infected who had not been destroyed, but the memories remained. The pain remained; the pain drove us to do anything in our power to forget the time as a zombie.
I'm fifteen now, I was twelve when I was bitten. One fifth of my life had been consumed by the bloodlust derived from the infection. Many had lost loved ones in the times that no one had been bold enough to name as of yet. Naively hoping that the present would keep us and we would never look back.
We all, at one point or another, looked back.
The whole school was alight with gossip, as the faculty had announced that a new student would be arriving soon. Another student isn't normally such a reason for rumors, the big deal was that no one knew what exactly the actual big deal was. The arrival had been announced, which meant that the new student was important for some reason, and everyone wanted to know why.
Truthfully I could care less, but my friends all wanted to know everything about whoever was coming. As soon as I filed into the drab regular lunch room, I grabbed a tray and uncaringly reached for some food. Sitting down at my usual table, I was pleasantly surprised by my selection. Before I had pulled my chair out, I was immediately assaulted by a "Par, what do you think?" from somewhere across the table.
"Think about what?" I quickly responded attempting to feign ignorance, hoping that they would leave me alone. I had no such luck.
"You know the new student! I wonder who it is!" cried an overly zealous girl named Bianca. Who, though she knew I had no interest in her, continued to attempt to gain my attention. This persistence became increasingly annoying day after day though. Its not that I consider myself too good for her, I know that I'm not, but everyone here knew that I had never dated and never wanted to date. I had just never found anyone who interested me.
"I wonder if they'll be nice! Maybe they'll be a jerk!" another girl clamored for my attention. This wasn't so rare, after a week of this, the girls would take the hint that I wasn't interested and leave me alone for good. It was just these pesky new girls who kept appearing out of the woodwork to try and woo me.
I didn't understand why they like me more than other boys; I had long dark brown hair, with grey-blue eyes. Average in weight and a bit taller than most people my age, I thought that I was perfectly regular.
"It doesn't matter." I said quickly, attempting to destroy all reason for speculation and attention. Yet, again I had no such luck because I was immediately met with a chorus of "Why's".
"C'mon guys…and girls," I quickly amended as I heard a distinctly feminine throat clearing, "they're is coming to stay whether we like it or not. Its irritating to follow the rumors that probably have no base in reality. You'll just be basing first impressions on those rumors." The new girls immediately shut-up apparently hanging on my every word, but the rest of the table continued chatting while I stared at the wall behind Bianca. Mistakenly, she took my stare to be at her, causing her to blush and me to internally groan at the misunderstanding. As soon as she pushed her chair back from the table to get up, I bolted. Turning my tray in, I ran to the door and into the hallways. As soon as I was sure that she hadn't followed me. I slumped against the wall, the day only half over, it had already sucked all my strength from me.
Apov
I was glad to be cured, wasn't I? Free from the horrors of being a zombie. Free like all the others, who could continue with their shattered lives. That's what everyone else seemed to hope that I would believe. The life I returned to wasn't even mine anymore. I was never free of the zombie, the beast that was always there, never with bloodlust, but nevertheless, always there. All the old, Class-W zombies had this problem. The zombie never stopped its tears, and neither did I.
I was a Witch.
"It wasn't so bad" they said, but they couldn't feel the pain. I was one of the few surviving witches. Most had been killed because they were so strong. They were the prime targets for survivors. Witches really were strong, too strong, strong enough so that they could resist some of the cure. Not enough to stay a zombie, but enough to make me miserable. My hair was straight black, and my eyes are still a glowing red. I missed my old brown hair and my old blue eyes. By my standards, I had never been pretty, but now I was marked. People knew what I had been and either disgusted or afraid of me or both. Their feelings were justified, I had killed, and I had maimed. When I was first cured, I had tried to explain to people how I wasn't aggressive unless you had openly attacked me or came near me, but no one listened, not even my own parents. They were afraid of me.
Just like all the others.
I had never really had friends when I was human, and I knew that I wouldn't have friends when I went back to school in a couple weeks. I knew that people there would treat me worse than others, beat me up, steal from me, some might even go as far as to try to kill me. They would be sorry if they tried to kill me. I laughed at the amazing "cure" they can't cure witches, only repress them, but if that zombie recognizes danger, then it might just help me and save my life to save its own.
School was going to be a hell on earth. I just hoped that my grades didn't take a hit because of my origin; I was already resigned to my future social status. I had things planned I was going to go to a good school and get a degree in anything that didn't require me to leave my house. I planned to be a recluse for the rest of my life.
Hiding for the rest of my life.
