Julie and I sit on the cold floor; my legs crossed, hers sprawled out to our sides. She rests back on her palms, licking her lips as she racks over ideas in her head. She doesn't know what to do with me. I wheeze involuntarily. She smiles and scoots forward, crossing her thin legs to close more distance. "Ever heard of shampoo, Mr. Zombie?" I groan at the nickname. Her smile widens. She's challenging me; to what, I don't know.

Her smile starts to fade, her focus slipping away from me. Julie's eyes grow distant; she stares at me hard as if she's looking at something underneath my gory features.

"Ju-... Lie." I say, with some difficulty. She looks up, her eyes clouded by unrealistic dreams. I don't know how to bring her back.

Slowly and unsurely, I lift my hand and move through the remaining air keeping us apart. I set my cold palm onto her chest, above her thumping heart. It seems familiar, as if I've done it before.

My head swirls, my body spasms, trying to regain the memory of another dead life. I'm about to pull my hand away when Julie grabs my wrist, keeping it in place as my body jerks around. My face twists into one of disgust, creases forming around my mouth and eyes. I don't feel pain, but the impatient gleam of the death that clutches me forces hunger into my jolting body. Hunger for pain, for sadness, for joy, for delight. For an emotional high.

I know what I want. I want Julie; every part of her. I want her thoughts; her ideas. Her soul, her mind.

Move away from her, corpse. Perry says cautiously, and I hear alarm in his voice. He isn't expecting this. He didn't plan for my lifeless ways to crawl back into the front of my head. What is he expecting? I still don't move away.

"There you go again." I hear Julie whisper. I don't know what she means; I didn't move. I stare blankly at her, watching her shiver slightly under my clammy hand. But she acts as if I'm the warmest thing she's ever touched. "Just dozing off. I keep wondering what you're thinking. Why you keep disappearing from reality."

I shrug. How do I tell her? My thoughts keep me sane, yet they also drag me to the unavoidable truth. I kill things, I eat things. The Living die and I stay. I stay with their DNA dripping down my chin. I stay with their souls withering away inside the chambers of my stagnant heart. "Under… Stand if…" I trail off, tapping my temple as I shake my head. I don't know how to go on. I'd like to tell her everything inside my head.

I'd like to open the rusty gates between reality and imagination, allowing her entry into the depths of one's consciousness. I'd lead her by the hand to the darkest corner of a brightly lit room. My sanctuary contains my fears, my story, and all of the promises I've never kept that I'll never remember now.

There are new promises I make to myself upon watching Julie bubble up with raw emotions I have inflicted on her for being the way I am. I am the reason she's drained of energy. Her sacrifices are high, her doubt has doubled. She stares at me in disbelief and regret. Does she regret being here with me? Sitting on the frozen ground of a long forgotten bathroom?

"You're doing it again." Julie jokes, standing up to move towards the sink. She cranks the handle up and drops of water plummet to the bottom of the rusted sink. She sighs and shuts it off, waits several seconds, then pushes it back up. The water flows freely now, the pressure slowly making improvement until Julie smiles approvingly. She bends over, soaking her face in the cool liquid before turning to me. "Come here."

I obey, shakily getting to my feet to approach her. She smiles at my clumsiness as I fall into the side of the sink. "Hold still," she commands. I fix my posture and stand completely upright. I train my eyes ahead. I feel empty, stuck inside my own unimportant mind like a prison. I'm a slave to the abyss darkness clouding my head and clogging my veins.

I hear a soft laugh and Julie is gently wiping my cheeks. She switches between wetting my skin and drying. Swipes blood off an area with a wet cloth then dries it with another. This continues until I feel no crust left behind by my snack on my skin. I lift a hand to my cheek and rub in a circle with my pointer finger. Julie rolls her eyes.

"You've always been a weird one." She comments, disengaging herself from whatever weight she has baring down on her shoulders. She can't handle it anymore. The emotions are too strong and she needs to be free. I see her shoulders slump and she leans against the wall. "I'm crazy, right? For thinking that you could come back a second time. It was nuts the first time you did. Impossible, but you did it." She squeezes her eyes shut, rubbing her forehead to ease the pain. I can see the wheels turning in her head, pushing old memories forward. She's a never ending cycle of misfortune and loss.

So save her. Perry says as if scolding me like a child. Save her and she'll save you…

"Maybe that's it, R. The impossible. I mean, think about it. That's what you are. The impossible man." Julie's eyes bore into me and I lower myself to the ground, crossing my legs as I look back up at her. Tears leak from her eyes and she has trouble wiping them all away.

"I thought Perry was invincible." She says after a long, dreadful moment of eerie silence. Her eyes are glazed over with tears she strains to hold back. Please don't talk about him. I don't want her to bring him up, not when he's in my head so vividly.

I shut my eyes, lifting my still dirty hands to my recently cleaned lips. A finger brushes against my bottom lip. I suck in a sharp breath. Memories flood my head I had blocked out before.

I am Blake Stevens. I am thirty-three years old. I am walking down the road, cocking my gun at the strange sounds echoing into my ears. The fear of a zombie attacking is very strong. They attack at any time and we always have to be prepared. I try not to worry when I'm not on outer patrol.

I continue moving down the road, kicking at rocks under my feet. I sigh, bored and tired from a long day walking. "Stevens?" Someone says behind me. I turn around and face a scrawny man, wearing a uniform that is two sizes too big. His black hair needs a wash. He needs a shave. "Get on the other side of the wall. Grigio's order."

I nod gingerly and wander towards the entrance, looking down anxiously at my gun. I haven't fired a round in days. My hands itch for the trigger. "No," I snap at myself and proceed further until I tap the wall. It creaks open enough for my body to slip through. "What's the problem?" I ask a uniformed man staring intensely straight ahead.

"They're coming." He replies, motioning with the gun down the road. I turn and shield my eyes from the sweltering sun. A group of them are running towards us like turtles with a purpose. Their arms flail. They have no purpose besides cracking our skulls and feasting on our brains. But something is different. One trails behind, his eyes unfocused and looking about curiously. He seems to stare at things and understand.

"Aim for their heads!" A tanned skin man barks, his gun cocking as he begins to move forward. Their plan is to meet this group half way.

"Wait. What's that one doing?" The scrawny man asks the tanned man. He points with his rifle to the zombie that caught my attention. One hand was loosely stuffed into a pocket of his-

I don't want to see this. Stop it! Stop!