Prologue

When I fell from the vent I did not expect to see Isaac. The man I once had passion for. I can't imagine the pain he's feeling, the sorrow.

Now, I'm one of the damned, one of the very things that have been trying to slaughter him. And now, my stomach urges me to kill him. But, I am unable to eat and destroy him, along with the love we shared.

I slowly look down at my distorted, disgusting, mangled appearance. And I realize that Isaac must be grimacing inside his mask, grimacing at my ugliness. I try to cover my face with my claws, but I realize, it only makes matters worse.

He's raising his gun to me, not that I blame him. He probably just wants to put me from my misery. Suddenly though, Isaac sighs inside his helmet and lowers the Plasma Cutter. I wonder why he's doing this? Is it because he cannot bear to kill me, to have my blood on his? I heave in a hoarse breath and slump on the ground.

But, something amazing happened a few moments after I did this. He approached me. Carefully, no, timidly, he pressed a hand against my shoulder. But I cannot tell whether this is love, or pity. Most likely the latter.

"Nicole is that you?" He says hopefully.

I make an attempt to nod, but my neck cracks loudly when I do this. He swallows.

"It's Isaac, it's me." He says, placing his other hand onto my second shoulder. Slowly, I try to answer, but it comes out as a gurgled, "I remember."

His helmet shudders, and I can tell he's about to cry. "Nicole, I, I . . . are you okay?"

I know I'm not, and in fact, I have a hard time looking at myself, but I answer. "Yes."

Isaac, shifts into a kneeling position. "N-n-now, don't lie to me," his attempt to lighten the mood is unprevailing, but he know's he can't help it. And so do I.

I hang my head, and make a pitiful attempt at a smile, which is made more disgusting, as my bottom lip is hanging by a thread.

He looks away for a moment, then pulls himself to face me. "I-I-I . . . oh Nicole," He cries, and lowers his head to face the ground. Tears dripping from the bottom of his helmet. When I try to rest a claw on his shoulder, I stop myself. Fearful that I might hurt him. However, he takes this as a sort of kindness, and cautiously gives me a warm hug. Oblivious to the flesh, blood, and decay pouring onto his chest

"Issssaaaaac." I say. "Y-yes?" he answers, pulling away from the embrace and resting into a crouching position. "I . . . mussssst, tell you ssssssometh--ing." "Wha-what is it?" He stammers, edging closer, but I notice he has retained the Plasma Cutter.

"Do not make me whole again."