6. Theodore

CHAPTER 6

Theodore

S trange to have a body again. So many years, just a soul wandering the earth. But tonight something pulls me back. I claw at the earth, desperately pushing and pulling it aside, trying to make headway. I can't stay down here. It's too… cramped. There's a big fancy word for it that I can't quite place. When everything crushes down around you and you can't get out, feel trapped.

There's only one time I can remember liking this feeling. Not that I remember it fully. I just remember legs and wetness and the taste of her.

Whatever that wisp of memory is, it drives me faster. It feels like it takes ages, but finally my hand breaks through the ground. Fresh air breezes across my fingertips.

Coolness and warmth all in one. Suddenly I am desperate for it. The cold under the earth is so moist. Both hands dig into the earth—that above, and pull up.

My eyes do not like it above ground. Everything is so bright—even with just the full moon above. The stars shine too brightly, though I can't make them out. Everything is blurry. I remember wearing something on my eyes before, but even without it, I don't remember my vision being this bad.

The dirt crumbles back in towards me as I pull myself out, shaking off the dirt from each limb as I rise up.

She leans in close. Hot air on the things fixing my eyes. Her lips on mine .

She seems to be all I can think about. That… and something dark.

Something much darker.

A hunger.

A need.

A curse.

Metallic clinking behind me.

"Woah, dude, you don't need to roll around in actual dirt to pull off the zombie costume. How you gonna get chicks like that?"

Two bodies behind me. One in shades of white, the other in shades of green and black. Something glimmers in their hands. They stumble with each step.

As I look at them, all I can think is: food.

I try to tell them, but I don't know what words come out of me. They sound hollow and garbled. Whatever it is, they start laughing.

"That's real good," the other one says. "You want a beer or something?"

He hands one of the shiny objects to me. It's cold in my hand. I shove it in my mouth.

He giggles. "Nah, dude. You wanna shotgun? Hell yeah!"

I panic as he wields a sharp object towards me, but it lands in the shiny thing. Liquid pours from the bottom. The other guy fiddles with the top until it fizzes and they both shove the can to my mouth. I swallow as the liquid spills out. But it isn't what I want.

My hand grabs at their wrists. The life pulsing inside of them is the answer. Suddenly it's so clear.

"Yo, if you're gay that's cool, but we're already committed to each other," the first one says.

"Sorry, I'm too possessive to share," the second says, trying to pull his hand away.

The shiny thing drops to the floor as I pull them close. The second one squirms away, but it frees up my hand to pull the second closer to me by his shoulders.

"Kurt!" the free one screams, pulling at my arms.

Have I always been this strong? I drag his screaming head to my mouth as he beats his arms wildly, trying to fend me off.

"Okay dude, we get it, you're real good at the zombie impression," he whimpers.

Something heavy smacks the back of my head just as my teeth make good headway into his scalp. My hands let go, and Kurt makes a break for it.

"You okay dude?" the first one asks, dropping whatever he hit me with to the floor.

"Not really, man, let's get out of here!" Kurt says. "Fuck the beers and shit, we can always come back if he's gone."

My head feels strange and so do my legs. I try to run after them, only to discover the legs are broken. Reaching a hand to the back of my head, I feel the emptiness where skull should be. Instead there's only wet, sticky goo. Ew. Am I like that all over? I

run my hands along my eyes, feeling recesses where skin should be. Half my jaw is covered by some semblance of skin, and the other is not. My neck too feels raw, a mix of muscle and bone with sparse flesh. My clothes are rotted and torn, the skin underneath alternating and worn as much. In some places, the skin is tight, in others, nonexistent. What I can see of myself is a strange mix of blues and white and green and brown and purple. As if a bruise covers my entire body and the blood was sucked out all in one.

It's a shame those men got away. My teeth hurt with the need for their life force.

"Oh," says a small voice to my right. "You uh… Okay, weird choice to hang out at a graveyard all alone in a zombie costume."

The woman laughs, and my whole brain lights up with happiness. I try to see what I can of her, but my stupid eyesight is so bad. With my legs broken, I take a seat on a strangely shaped stone behind me. All I can make out is her head is orange with a poof of black beneath her.

"You know, I've never been here before," she says. "Partly from grief and also… I don't think Andy wanted me to come."

The name stirs an anger within me from nowhere.

"That's my brother. He practically raised me, so I always did my best to make him happy because I'd be nothing without him."

That isn't true .

That's what I want to say, but all that comes out is a meaningless grunt. I don't know why. I just do.

"I don't even know where his grave is," she murmurs, looking across the ground. "It's probably too late to pay my respects or anything. Maybe I'm thinking about it because I feel guilty."

Why?

But again, just a grunt. I can't seem to get my mouth to work.

"It's crazy… I've had like the weirdest night. I didn't even really want to come to this masquerade thing, but my brother insisted I go. Maybe I didn't want to go at first, but it was a lot of fun putting on the costume and everything. I just got… anxious, I guess, about meeting new people? I haven't really tried to get with anyone since…"

She swallows. I can hear the sounds of her body better than her voice. Feel the pull of her life force. My teeth throb.

"Anyway, I really said slut era, I guess, because I fooled around with two guys already and the night is still young."

Already? As in there could be more?

"But you know what's crazy is they both took the role-play thing a little too seriously. Like both of them were ready to bite my head off. Can you believe that?!"

Some other need wars with the ache in my teeth. A hollowness in my chest. A throb between my legs. Some need that she could fill. I try to tell her this, but only a grunt comes out.

But there's something more to her—the pull of her life force is greater than any other. Something special about her, unlike the men who greeted me as I rose to the surface. Something that I do not think I'd encounter in another human.

"Sorry I'm dumping all this on you," she says with a soft chuckle. "You're a good listener."

I smile at her compliment. My mouth gapes open, wide and dumb. I am dumb for her. She could ask me to do anything, and I would.

"Plus, I'm not gonna lie, it's kind of nice to talk to someone without them trying to hit on me immediately."

I would never hit her.

"Not that I'm saying you're like gross or unattractive for anything, I mean, I bet you're probably hot underneath all that makeup," she says, stepping closer.

Suddenly, her hands are on my shoulders.

"God, what is wrong with me? Why am I such a fucking slut today?" she murmurs to herself.

But I do not like that she's talking to herself that way. I do like that she's touching me. But I don't do anything else. It doesn't seem like she wants that.

"Do you think…" she lets out a pouty little whimper. "Do you think I could kiss you?"

I nod my head slowly. The suggestion makes the hollowness in my heart and the throbbing between my legs deepen. Even still, I try to shake my head no—something is off. She does not seem to want this and yet offers it. But I cannot resist her.

Our lips connect. She lets out a strange, confused sound and wipes at my mouth.

"Did you use actual dirt? You know they make fake cosmetic dirt for this stuff, right?" she laughs, wiping more and more away. When she seems satisfied with the cleanup, she runs her thumb along my lips again. I moan at the contact.

Everything about this feels perfect and right. As if this is what I've been wandering the earth searching for.

"Your lips are so dry," she murmurs. "Poor thing. You're probably not used to all this makeup."

She reaches into her breasts and pulls out a little yellow tube. It smells strong, makes my eyes water.

"I hope you like mint. My ex used to apply this stuff religiously. I used to use the petroleum jelly stuff but he insisted on beeswax. After he died, I just kept using it. It was the closest I could get to kissing him again, you know?"

She applies the tube to my lips as she says all this. Her words squeeze my chest, make me want to hold her. My arms get the message, and suddenly, I'm holding her close, our bodies pressed against each other.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry, I'm going off trauma dumping on you again," she groans. "But this is nice. Thank you for the hug."

I pull her tighter. I need us to be one. If I hold her tight enough, maybe our bodies will merge.

Because one thing, and one thing alone has held me to this earth.

Autumn .