This scared the crap out of me to write. Hopefully it does the same for you who read. Oh, and a quick warning: There is some strong language in this section. I'm sorry for that.

Did I ever mention I hate walking? It's really funny because I love running. I enjoy doing cross country and track and such (even if I'm not that great), but I absolutely hate walking. I don't care if it's across town or just to the fridge to get a drink, I hate it. I don't know what it is about it that makes me want to just beat up the people who "love" to walk. It might be the repetitive nature of it, or it might just be the simple fact that it's boring. I don't know. I just hate it.

That's not what's really on my mind as I walk down a street that I vaguely remember. I left the apartment several hours ago, stuffing some food and Rexy into an old flowery, pink back-pack of mine from those days in preschool. The large Metallica shirt had to be retied in the back to keep it from carrying me away with the slightest breeze and I changed my shoes so that they wouldn't match my brothers.

He hadn't said anything since I left the apartment but he is following me. I can see him out of the corner of my eye sometimes, yet when I turn to catch him in the act he's gone. My heart race quickens every time he's near, so even if I can't see him I can tell when he's watching. I want to yell at him, but I've noting to yell.

I miss him…

"All you need is love…" I'm surprised at how weak my voice is, so I sing it again. "All you need is love…" Better, Pepsi, but still pretty weak. I know you can do better. You've got golden pipes, babe. "All you need is love." Thatta girl! Come on now, one more time to really get it! "All you need is love!"

I hear a crash. It sounds like a plank of wood falling onto concrete. I'm not sure where it came from, but my eyes keep darting around hoping to find the source. Another crash comes, this time it's glass. My heart beat quickens…he's near, he has to be. Another crash, this time I know where it's coming from. The building to my right, the short one with the large red "X" painted across it. I've seen a few building with that "X" on them so far, my father's apartment complex being one.

I hear shuffling. It's still coming from the short building. Something, a bucket maybe, tips over and spills some liquid all over the floor behind its walls. The door shakes as if something bumped into it on accident, but it's not an accident because it shakes again, and again, until it slowly opens to reveal a pitch-black room. I stare, my heart beat going faster than I can keep track of. He's there, it's him, that's all.

"Where're you goin' sis?" It's not him. His voice doesn't sound like a snake's, does it? His face is in the darkness though. It's pale, blood oozing from a tiny hole on his forehead. His eyes are bloodshot and his smile is contrasted with razor sharp fangs on either side of his mouth. "All you need is love?"

I shiver as his hand outstretches towards me from the door; its pale and bloody as well.

"I love you sis. Just come here. I'll take you away…" I can feel the lie, it pulsates like my heart. I have no idea what's going on but it's scaring the living shit out of me. I close my eyes and turn to run.

"Where the fuck are you going you filthy little whore!" His voice is thrown at me, knocking tears from my eyes. There I go crying again. I'm a bitch, don't deny it. "You get back here or I'll slit your fucking throat!" It sounds like his voice is in a gutter, the sound gathering up old gunk as it travels along its path. I get hit with memories this time, not just the voice itself. They're bad memories too. Ones that I can hardly remember.

I'm five. I'm playing tag with a few kids. I trip over the edge of a sandbox and fall on an older kid's castle. I start to apologize but the kid turns angry and yells. "I'll fucking kill you."

I'm eight, or nine, I can't remember. My dad's playing an old "Beatles" album. He looks like he's having a great time, so I'm most likely smiling. My mother shows up, and the next thing I know they're both yelling. I hear the word "whore" thrown around by my dad quiet a lot. My mom uses the phrase "your daughter" a lot. "She hates me", I tell my dad, hoping for a lie. He simply says, "She hates me too".

I'm thirteen and I'm in the cafeteria. "I fucked her". "I fucked her".

It's late at night. I just woke up from a bad dream and I find my brother in the bathroom. There's blood all over the sink. He's got a piece of glass in his hands. I start crying, so he holds me. I get his blood all over me.

The memories knock me right off of my feet and onto the ground. I vomit, and for some reason it feels cold, like ice cream. He's still in the doorway, his eyes wide and all knowing. There's blood pouring from his forehead now, covering every inch of his body.

"I'll make you bleed, you filthy little slut!"

It's a few months back and I'm sitting outside. My sister has her boyfriend over and he comes outside and tries to touch me. I smack him and run inside. He tells my sister I came onto him. She finds me and claws me with her perfectly kept nails. I tell my mom, and she says my sister already came to her. "You deserve it." That's how she put it. I throw her hot coffee on the floor, wishing it had been her face that I threw it at instead.

I'm up and running again, my brother's turns away from me revealing a large open wound, like a gun wound. He walks away from the door. It's still open though and from it comes several once-humans. I suppose I said I could call them zombies now. They're coming after me, running a lot quicker than I can. More come from other buildings, looking more alive than me sadly.

The zombies begin to catch up. Their hands reach out to cut at me but somehow I keep the distance. My legs are screaming though, and I know they'll stop me before I can get away. They'll demand respect, and for that I will die. I don't want to die. I really don't. I'm free. I'm finally free from it all. I can't die yet.

"Cause I'm Free!" It comes out in short bursts between rapid breaths. "Free fallin'!"

A spark in the air catches mine, and the zombies, attention. It's a flare, way up on the roof of a rather tall building. It begins to wave in the air and a voice calls out to me. "Hide!" it says. So I do. I duck out of the path of the infected and head for the nearest building. I feel a little relief when I notice the building I am running towards has a large, red, steel door instead of a normal one. Even more so when I see the flare fly from one roof to the next, meaning that there is a person up there, and he/she isn't going to kill themselves just to save me.

I slam the safe-house (nice phrase dontcha think?) door behind me as I dive in. I drop to my hands and knees while I try to catch my breath. It seems useless. My heart's beating fast; it's racing.

"Come on, sis." It's still not him. "Come with me. I can save you." I feel angry. It's boiling inside of me. It has been boiling inside of me for years. It feels like an animal and I don't feel the need to keep it locked up anymore. It wants my "brother" to shut the fuck up. So it tells him.

"Just shut the hell up!" I take in a deep breath. "I don't give a fuck if you're real or just in my fucked up imagination. I hate you! I hate everything you stand for! You're not my brother! You're just…gaaah!" My fist lashes out with that last "word" and it connects with something. It feels cold and fleshy. I punch again and feel the same thing. That's not what my brother feels like. He feels warm, and loving…and bloody.

I'm back in his arms on the bathroom floor. "All you need is love," he whispers. I whisper it back. He smiles. It's not fake.

My fist lashes out again, and again, and again until it hurts. I look for something in the room to pick up and see a fire axe on a small wooden table near the far right corner. I stumble over to it and feel the smooth handle in my tired hands. It's hard to lift but I manage.

"What're you doing?" He's behind me again. I can feel it. "You can't kill me you little bitch. You're just a fuckin' cock-biting slut! Just like mom!"

I scream and swing the axe as I spin to face the thing disguised as my brother. The axe head connects with the side of his skull, spurting blood out onto my hands. I let go of the handle and the zombie drops to the ground.

It wasn't my brother, just like I knew it wasn't. It's just some zombie. Some poor sap that got bitten and just happened to be chosen by my subconscious as a human punching bag. I feel better looking at it. A weight, one I never even noticed, was taken from my heart bit by bit with every punch, and eventually it was removed completely with the axe.

Enlightenment. I'm an angry little girl. I'm an angry little girl with a lot of repressed memories. Good job Pepsi! Way to let all of that crap out while you're alone in a deserted city. Pepsi –1, Zombie Apocalypse-53,595.

How was it? Scare ya? Even a little? No? Oh well…

I've got a question I'd like you to answer. Do you want Pepsi to meet the person on the roof? If yes, do you want him/her to live for a while, or just die? If no, then why?