My name is Callum and I just had sex. Every part of my body is still tingling, and I hate myself for it.
I didn't hurt my partner, no; even now he places his head just below my chin, his ragged breath calming to a soft dozy sound. It isn't that my partner is a man either.
No I hate myself because while my fiancé walks and eats other people I'm getting fucked in the ass by a guy that could pass as her brother. See, I was there when she died, I watched the undead push her down, watched her shoe roll across the floor like some sick Cinderella and while I did kill her killer. I just let her go. I should have ended her, closed her eyes, bullet to the skull and let her go.
It's hard for me to let things go however. Maybe that's why even after a year I'm angry with myself. I let something as beautiful and pure as my Claudette, become a monster.
Everyone's lost someone in this world, but she wasn't supposed to go. She was sunshine after the rain, a song on the wind. Detta did what very few did, she tried to actually be human not just survive. She knew every song Elvis ever sang, could quote the entire Harry Potter series-the girl still remembered Winnie the Pooh for god's sake-but in a flash of teeth I lost her. In a bad decision I let death have her and make her a tool, a puppet no longer the love of my live but a corpse with her face.
Green eyes became gray and my heart faded away. I always did want to be a poet. Detta supported it of course but there is no room for poets in the world. I'm tall and good with a gun, I must be a guard. Not a bad gig, enough to keep me busy. Keep me from digging up our box of photos once a month.
I haven't thought of her in a while. Dylan-the one sleeping on me. He keeps me busy, keeps me happy and if it's possible after what I've been through I think I love him. He's not Detta, aside from similar features he's nothing like her. A morbid sort of prankster with sad eyes and matching attitude. No I'm only kidding, he's not that bad. I make him laugh.
"Do you have duty tonight?" I sigh, Dylan and I try to spend time with one another but frankly-all we do is fuck. I feel like shit for that too, guess I've just got a guilty mindset. "No, but I was going to go out, there's a group, says there's nine of them. Gringo wants me to check it out."
"You mean you want to check it out?" I close my eyes so I don't see his and move from under him. "Yes."
"-to see her?"
"If she's there, might as well finish her off. Not fair for her to be like that." I'm fighting to keep the emotion out of my voice while twirling the ring on my finger. We were going to be married as soon as possible, stole the rings from a jewelry store (funny thing, with all the looting we didn't expect to find anything). We were going to have a life together.
No kids of course, Detta was scared of having them. I feel Dylan's fingers in my hair, pale and clever fingers running through a tangle of dark curls. I always hated having curly hair.
"It's not your fault you know." I scoot to the edge of the bed and sit up, shaking my head. Thoughts of Detta drop out like water after a shower. "Yeah. I gotta go get ready." I need a shower before I go out. I need to brush my teeth. "Okay..I love you Callum." I freeze, my heart thumps in my chest to remind me I am alive. It thumps quicker to remind me I am alive and in love. I look back and smile at Dylan who's watching me with big green eyes, just like Detta used to.
Dylan and Detta, both redheads, both have green eyes (or in her case, had, they were so pretty, it killed me to see them go gray). I'm madly in love with each of them, but I'm not sure who I'm speaking to when I say:
"I love you too babe."
I'm an awful person. I know I am as I turn the shower on, but I am what I am. What I am is hurt; everyone is hurt in this world. Dylan is hurt because he knows I still love her, Detta is hurt because she's undead now-I'm hurt because I was left behind.
I hate myself.
