AN: Happy Valentine's Day!

Chapter Eight

AUDREY

It turns out that N is pretty good at keeping me entertained. This comes mainly from its severe hoarding issues. I mean there is literally everything inside this little shop. I could probably pass almost the entire few days here just by examining every item on the worse-for-wear shelves. As it is, I have already spent most of the first day doing exactly that.

"You have a lot of stuff," I comment. I pause as I spot something stuck into the back of the shelf and I pull it out, careful not to knock down the set of champagne flutes and piece of a tarnished gold chess set in front of it. It's a small, leather-bound book, the surname 'Brauer' stamped on the front in flaking, gold script. "Like, a lot."

N has been following me at a distance all day, five steps behind me at all times but trying not to look like it's tailing me. The whole thing is kind of cute, in an innocent puppy sort of way. "I c-collect," it says, picking up a porcelain doll. The face has been half-broken off and it's missing an arm, but N cradles it in its hands like it's the most precious thing on earth. "I l-like stuff."

"I can see that," I say with a smile. I flip open the book I found and my eyes widen. It's a photo album. Some of the pages are torn or water damaged, and the bottom corner and edge are stained an ominous maroon, but several of the pictures are still intact. Most of them are of two people; an auburn-haired woman with a lean face and a man with a hard jaw and sandy hair. There are photographs of him in an army uniform, of her in front of a cute little antique shop, of the both of them at their wedding, and later standing in front of a tiny cottage house on the hill. "Oh wow, these are amazing."

N wanders closer to peer over my shoulder and it narrows its eyes as it scrutinises the photographs. I continue to turn pages slowly, looking at each little glimpse into the lives of this couple. It feels like a storybook, like a children's tale full of pictures, but it strikes me that these are real people. People who are out there somewhere, who were alive once. Maybe still are. "I wonder what happened to them," I muse aloud.

"C-corpse," N says and pokes at the photograph of the man.

"How do you know?" I ask in surprise.

N looks down at the porcelain doll and its lips pull down at the corners. "See h-him, 'round," it says and gestures vaguely at the window.

"You recognise him?" I ask curiously.

"H-hangs out up r-r-road," it says. "N-not fruh-end." It bares its teeth and growls, and then shakes its head.

"I didn't realise there are friendly Corpses," I say with a faint laugh. I glance up and N is honest-to-God pouting, its lower lip sticking out slightly and its eyes downcast. "I mean apart from you, obviously. You're - different. You're not like all the others."

"M... 'm weird," N says with a shrug.

I laugh, closing the photo album and putting it back where I found it. "That you are, my friend," I agree in amusement. N doesn't seem offended by that and as I set off down along the shelf again it continues to follow me. "So why do you keep all this stuff? I mean, judging by the dust you don't exactly use it."

N shrugs. I glance up at it expectantly and it shrugs again before finally answering. "Keep s-safe," it says finally.

"Like you keep me safe?" I ask interestedly, giving up on my search for a minute. This is more interesting.

"I t-try," N says with the faintest hint of a smile playing around its lips.

The comment catches me so off-guard I can't help but break out in giggles. "Look at you, making jokes," I tease to cover my awe. "A Corpse with a sense of humour. That's a new one." Shaking my head, I turn around and go back to browsing the shelves again until it gets dark out and I can't see well enough to keep going.

I walk back over to the little area I've set up for myself in the corner. I sit down and rummage through the stack of cans in the half-light, trying to decide what to have for dinner, and finally settle on a can of fruit cocktail. Just as I've opened the can N brings me another bottle of the local brew beer and I smile gratefully as I pop the cap off.

While I'm eating, N wanders over to the large desk in the front of the shop and puts a new vinyl on the record player. It crackles and then a familiar strain comes out and I can't help but beam. "Guns and Roses," I say in approval. "Very nice choice."

N smiles - it doesn't smile so much with its mouth, but with a spark in its eyes and the way it carries its head a little higher. "G-guns 'n r-r-roses," it echoes.

"It's the name of the band," I explain, pinching a bright red cherry between my fingers and popping it into my mouth. "They're great. I used to listen to them all the time, but I could only do it at school. The nuns didn't like rock music. Devil's music, they called it." I huff and shrug. "A bit stupid in hindsight, thinking music was going to ruin us and now we're in the middle of all this."

N shuffles over and sits down in front of me, its eyes wide and curious. "N-nuns?"

"They're church ladies," I say. "Women who devoted their lives to serving God and all that. I was raised in an orphanage run by nuns. They were super strict. I used to get into trouble all the time, just stupid things like listening to music I shouldn't or bringing home candy from school. Things like that." I look up at N, who is watching me with the Corpse equivalent of rapt fascination. "Do you remember anything from before you became a Corpse? I mean, you remember part of your name, so I was just wondering..."

N shakes its head. "Just N." It pauses and glances at the record player, which has moved on to a soft ballad. "S-sometimes, m-m-music."

"You remember the music?" I ask in surprise. "Like the songs?"

"The sound," it says. "They f-f-feel, in here." It places a hand flat against its chest and closes its eyes. "Fam-mil-liar. And here - " it touches its forehead, "like they th-hh-here but I c-can't..."

"Like you can almost remember, but you can't," I finish. N opens its eyes and nods earnestly. "It's like a dream. You wake up and you can remember the feeling of it, but you can't quite remember what it was."

N shrugs. "D-don't dr-r-ream."

"Oh, right," I say, awkwardly toying with a bit of pear. "I forgot." Sometimes N acts so human I forget it's a Corpse. There's a long, drawn-out silence as I finish off the can of fruit and when I finally look up again N is still just watching me. It doesn't seem like my slip bothered it any.

When I don't start talking, N cocks its head to the side and says, "T-tell me 'bout you."

"About me?" I ask, shocked. "There's not much to say. I mean, what would you want to know? My middle name's Prudence, self-inflicted at my Confirmation. I didn't have my first kiss until I was eighteen. My favourite singer is Ray Charles." N narrows its eyes and I laugh at the almost suspicious look. "Okay, fine, it's Justin Timberlake."

"F-family?" N asks.

"Never had any," I admit, leaning back against the stack of pillows I nicked from around the shop - sleeping against the wall had not been comfortable and if I was sticking around for a few more days I wanted somewhere softer to sleep. "I was at the orphanage from birth, no one ever came to claim me. I was in and out of foster homes but I never stayed at one long and I hated them all. I kind of have an adopted family at the Compound - the city where I live. Haven, they call it, but I think that's stupid.

"Duke is my best friend and he's kind of like my brother, he's probably the person I'm closest to in the whole world. Then there's Vince. He and his brother took Duke and I in when we were half-dead, they saved us. But Dave died two years ago. He turned and Vince had to shoot him. He's been different since then. I guess I don't blame him. And then there's Chris, he's my boyfriend." I stop, faltering. "He died at the hospital, I think. I heard his scream and I never saw him come back up."

There's a question that's been nagging at the back of my mind since that moment and I finally get up the nerve to ask it. "N, if he did die, Chris, will he come back as one of you?" N shakes its head, blue-gray eyes wide. I feel a heavy weight settle in my stomach and I nod. "That's good, I guess. I mean, he wouldn't want it, he'd want to rest in peace I think. I think maybe I was just sort of hoping that he would, that he would be like you. Not completely gone, you know?"

I sigh and lean back against the wall, folding my arms over my chest. I suddenly feel cold even though the temperature hasn't changed. "I think I always knew this moment would come, you know? That he would die someday. I mean we all will, eventually. He's just been so reckless since his dad died. I think I was almost expecting it. And it's not that I'm not sad that he's gone, because I am. It's just - I think I've been preparing for it for a long time."

I can feel tears burning at the corners of my eyes and I hastily rub them away with the back of my wrist. When I've finished I look up and N is gone. The music suddenly cuts out as N lifts the record off and puts it away. After a moment it pulls out a different one, mouths like it's blowing the dust off, and then puts it on the player. N nudges the needle several times until it seems to find the right song and then comes back over to sit down in front of me. It tilts its head at the record player and I take the hint, listening to the eighties song as it begins.

If I could find a way
To soothe your troubled mind
Then I would erase your fears
And help you to unwind.
I would ease the burden
That you carry everyday.
Oh, don't you know I'd find a cure
And take your pain away.

I look up at N and find myself trapped in that intense stare. N places a hand on its chest, then reaches out and presses its palm over my heart. Somehow, without any words, N has expressed an emotion beyond anything I've ever heard a human say. And once again, I can't help but ask it.

"What are you?"

N

I wish she'd stop asking me that question. It makes me feel like even more of a freak than I already am. It's bad enough that I'm a flesh-eating monster but it turns out I can't even do that right. I have to be the weird one. The one who doesn't do things the way he's supposed to.

What am I? I'm a Corpse, but a slightly defective one at that. I'm a collector - a hoarder, she called me. I'm a music lover. I'm lonely. So I shrug, because that's the only answer I have for her. I don't know exactly what I am.

Not to be too existential, but does anyone know who they are, really?

"You shrug a lot," Audrey says with a trace of amusement. I'm just glad that the sadness is gone from her face, that there's no longer pools of water brimming at the edge of her bottom lashes. "That's such a non-committal response. You may only speak in mono-syllables, but would it kill you to at least try and give real answers?"

I shrug and Audrey lets out a long-suffering sigh. "Now you're just being an ass," she says, shaking her head. She sets aside her empty food can and the bottle, and then settles back into her little nest. I watch in interest as she adjusts the pillows around her and wraps the blanket around her shoulders.

"I-it's-s ha-ard," I admit. Audrey pauses and looks up, her brow pulling down in confusion. "T-to talk." I gesture limply at my uncooperative throat and shrug again. It's hard to explain to someone how something that seems so simple can be so difficult for me; that those muscles she uses without thinking have atrophied in me and it takes a great deal of effort to get them to even move in that way again.

"Oh," Audrey's eyes soften and she nods. "You're right, I'm sorry. I just - it's so fascinating to hear you talk. I didn't think Corpses could, you know? Apart from grunting and moaning and stuff. And you are getting better actually. Maybe you're just out of practice."

I'm getting better? I think about it and she's got a point. When I first met her it was hard enough to say just her name and now I can speak in almost full sentences. "Mmmay-be," I agree, the corner of my lip twitching upward again.

Audrey smiles and wraps her blanket more tightly around herself. "Okay well I'm going to get some sleep," she says.

I stand up, taking the hint, and rub my palms awkwardly against my jeans. "Go-oo-od night, Audrey."

She looks up and her grin is bright in the darkness. "Goodnight, N."