《My new Roommate is a Zombie》 Chapter 1: Icy fingers We were in that time of year when it is too cold for light clothes but still too warm for thick ones, so every morning you have to choose one of two options and hope the weather is on your side. Needless to say, that day I had bet on the wrong horse, and, as a result, I was starting to lose sensitivity in my fingertips. Actually, though, mine had been a forced choice, as sweatshirts and coats were still buried in some remote meander of the closet and all I had left was a T-shirt with the words ¡°Try harder¡± on it and ¡°office gray¡± jeans. I promised myself that the first thing I would do as soon as I got home would be to do the seasonal clothing change; however, just the thought of it caused me some discomfort. In my head it was like definitely acknowledging the fact that summer was over, that''s why I had kept putting it off. However, I didn''t even like summer. I hated the heat, the clothes sticking to you, the smell of sweat, the mosquitoes buzzing around you when you try to sleep. The thing I really couldn''t stand, though, was the change in people''s behavior. All it took was for the temperature to rise a few degrees to trigger a mass euphoria. Beaches were assaulted by screaming people, willing to do anything to find a few extra inches to lay down their towels. Places like bars and clubs were filling up far beyond their capacity, showing images worthy of Dantesque hell, where bodies piled on top of each other, like beasts to the slaughter, desperate for some air, rarefied by the smoke. And this is supposed to be the pinnacle of fun. Those who do not participate in the mundane are wasting their lives. Everyone feels compelled to constantly remark how the only way to live a satisfying life is to do what they say. Given the choice, I would rather spend the summer barricaded in the house, with the air conditioning on full blast, reading and watching movies. Unfortunately, we live in a society where you must follow the dictatorship of the masses or be completely excluded. And that''s what I do: I go with the flow just enough to avoid ending up in the abyss, spending insignificant days, with no particularly pleasant events, but not particularly painful ones either. For some reason that was not clear to me though, the end of summer made me sad. It was probably a reminiscence of when I was a child. With the end of school, I didn''t have to worry about anything. Duties and responsibilities were gone, at least until the upcoming fall. Now, however, it was no longer so special: it was a period of study and exam preparation, just like the rest of the year. Classes had started long ago, and because of my laziness I had been forced to postpone until the next session one last exam, which I had promised myself I would take by the end of September. A fairly common story according to my classmates. For this reason, that day I had been invited to a study group session in the university library, with the unrealistic goal of catching up on months of backlog in a few hours. To make matters worse, we had opened our books and then ignored them all afternoon to chat with some girls sitting at the table behind ours, who apparently knew all the university¡¯s gossip and were eager to share it. The campus was brewing more than usual since that incident. The rumors were only increasing, enriching themselves with new elements and losing others, in a huge game of Chinese whispers, so much so that every trail leading to the truth had been lost in the skein. At least I had managed not to be dragged to the party, to which the newly formed group had unanimously agreed. Normally they would not have accepted my tactical retreat so easily, but it had been enough to say that, given the times, I preferred not to return home late. So, as my mind wandered from one futile thought to another, I walked home, taking the usual route from the train station to my small apartment. It wasn''t much, but I was glad I had moved in, the building was old and didn¡¯t have an elevator, and the creaks at night gave the impression of being in a haunted house, but it was fairly close to the university and I didn''t have to share it with anyone, so, for me, it was a little paradise in which I could stay in peace. At the time, something was off, however I was not paying attention to it. For a few days at night, those streets had been completely empty, so much so that the sound of my footsteps was the only thing that could be heard. The latest news had filled people''s hearts with fear, but how could I blame them, it was a murder, in that quiet neighborhood, where only young families and students lived. It was not a very lively place per se, but to see it completely empty had never happened to me. The atmosphere was almost magical, surreal, but I didn''t mind at all. Just being there felt wrong, I felt like a child who drinks a glass of wine behind his parents'' back and finds pleasure not from the drink itself but from disobeying the rules. Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. Turning right, I would have arrived home in seconds and another day would have come to an end, making way for the next, in which I would have repeated pretty much the same actions, eaten the same things, talked to the same people, about the same topics. When had this spiel begun? How much longer would it go on? How much longer would I be able to hold on? I was thinking about those questions, when an image appeared clearly in my thoughts, like a daydream: ¡°a toy train, one of those you put around the Christmas tree, forced to go round and round. I''m sitting there beside it, cross-legged, and looking at it as if it were the most important thing in the world. I focus on all the little lights going on and off following a regular pattern, listening to the choo-choo coming not from the wheels but from a small amplifier on the locomotive. The air is filled by the indistinguishable smell of freshly baked cookies. The little train begins to slow down, makes one last turn, putting in all the strength it has left, then comes to a complete stop. The battery had probably died. Then a woman''s voice, very familiar, calls to me from the adjacent room, inviting me for a snack. So, I get up and leave as if nothing had happened.¡± A moment''s pause, then I burst out laughing thunderously, so much so that I doubled over from the pain in my belly. My face contorted into an unnatural pose that it had not assumed in a long time, as I thanked the gods that no one was there to see it. Of all the scenes I could have recalled at that moment, among all the things I had experienced in twenty-one years, I found it funny that one was the one that came back to mind at that moment. I tried very hard to find a moral in it, but in vain. I certainly did not expect a vision to explain the meaning of life or give me some kind of motivation to turn mine upside down; however, I was left with a certain sense of disappointment. I had never been that ambitious, though. I knew full well that figuring things out was still too unrealistic of a goal. It was enough for me to go off the rails once in a while, then everything would go back to normal. The cycle of life would keep repeating itself, and I would be there to play my role. Nothing more. So, rubbing my cheeks for laughing too hard, I looked at the front door of the house, but I did not take that lane, instead, I went straight ahead. A shiver of excitement ran down my spine, thinking that just ahead the most dreadful of crimes had been committed. I walked for an indefinite time, aimlessly, for what could have been ten minutes or an hour, leaving the last houses behind and moving farther and farther away from the lights of the street lamps, only to find out that the night was not as dark as I had been led to believe. There were so many stars that a lifetime would not have been enough to count them. I realized that each one was unique, some were so bright that it looked as if they wanted to show off, others were hardly more than dots and gave me the idea that if I lost sight of them, if only by blinking, I would no longer be able to recognize them among the others. Each one had its own color, personality and story. Even the sky itself seemed to glow, and I finally understood what people meant by saying ¡°midnight blue.¡± I was ready to go back, when I felt icy fingers grabbing my arm. I was overcome by the stench of death, rotting flesh, the metallic smell of blood, and the pungent odor of wet soil. Before I could react, a quavering voice whispered to me: I had heard that voice only once, and I was sure it would be the last time as well. I hurriedly turned around, for I was afraid that fear would prevent me from moving if I did not do so immediately, and looked at her face, which I had seen hundreds of times in the news over the past few days. The eyes, however, were only half open and circled with livid dark circles, the cheeks slightly hollowed and the lips dry. On her very thin neck were the marks left by a hand that had pressed so hard it had torn the skin apart. The blouse she wore, and which once must have been snow-white, had been smeared with mud. Meanwhile, the sleeveless dress she wore on top of it, was pierced by the famous three stab wounds that had ended her life and covered with coagulated blood spatters. Her pale complexion, made even whiter by the moonlight, together with her blank gaze, lost beyond the horizon, gave me the idea that I was talking to a porcelain doll instead of a human being. However, a ghost could never have had that expression. In her face I could clearly read what was going through her mind: she was sad, confused, frightened. She probably had no idea what was happening to her or why she was alone at night in a place she had never seen before. My forearm was still clenched by her icy claw, as if to prevent me from fleeing. However, the grip was so weak, it felt more like she was begging me not to leave. Not that I had any intention of doing so. At that moment, I was inexplicably attracted by that girl, feeling the same joyful anxiety one feels watching a horror movie, but amplified a thousand times. Although I felt my hands shaking and a drop of cold sweat running down my forehead, the fear was outweighed by the desire to find out how the whole situation would unfold. Chapter 2: Come closer The way back was extremely quiet, not because I couldn''t think of what to say, but because I failed to find the right words to say to her, and the right time to do so. The whole time the girl had been walking two steps behind me, without opening her mouth or making any other noise beyond the rhythmic clicking of her heels on the concrete, which sounded like the second hand of an old clock. Every hundred meters or so I would turn my head slightly, to check if she was still there, out of fear that she would disappear at any moment, in the same way she had arrived. On the other hand, she looked as if her head was totally elsewhere, immersed in her thoughts. It took almost half an hour to get back, in which we were fortunate not to encounter another living soul. Unlocked the door, I took a few steps inside, inviting her in with a broad hand gesture, but the girl remained in the doorway, swinging in on herself, shifting the weight of her body from the tips of her toes to her heels. She looked around, then at the inside of my house, then at her reflection in the mirror placed at the entrance. Surely she must have felt uncomfortable entering a stranger''s house in the middle of the night. For all she knew I could very well have been an ill-intentioned individual. I tried to force myself to come up with a line that might reassure her, although it seemed an impossible challenge. I opted for the most natural thing to say in that circumstance, although there was very little of normality. If I could not give her a sense of safety, at least I would not alert her further. I was initially somewhat puzzled at her response, so much so that I instinctively turned my head a few degrees to the left side. I had heard that this was a fairly common behavior in the animal world, as tilting the head can help to better locate the source of a sound, as it changes the relative timing and intensity of the sound in each ear. This allows for better processing and understanding of ambiguous auditory signals. In addition, it can alter visual perspective and provide a different angle to examine a confusing visual stimulus. I thus got a better look at that girl, for the first time in bright light. She was in even worse shape than I had noticed before. She was covered with encrusted mud from head to toe, still damp, perhaps from the previous day''s rain. So much so that every now and then a drop of water, reddish from the blood, would drip from the folds of her skirt or from her frizzy, disheveled hair, which was not too vaguely reminiscent of Sadako''s. Retracing with my eyes the path I had taken, I noticed brown footprints on the asphalt, leading directly to my door. I couldn''t help but wonder what had really happened to her in the previous days to get her that way, and I was surprised that, despite everything, her greatest concern at that moment was to avoid causing trouble for others. I said, trying to force a friendly smile, but it probably looked like one of pity. She responded to my smile with hers, and for a moment I thought I caught a glimpse of the face of the Lily I remembered. We used to take the same train to the university, albeit from different stops, so it happened often that we passed each other. She was resplendent, always surrounded by people, laughing and joking, loud in some respects. She was an easy person to notice and hard to forget. We had spoken only once, at a party, thanks to a mutual acquaintance who had introduced us. However, several months had passed and I was sure she had forgotten about me. I was genuinely happy to know that she remembered my name instead. That made everything a lot easier. I felt my body relax and the tension I had built up in my muscles lighten a little, perhaps this was also thanks to her smile. She went straight for the bathroom, while I moved like a spinning top all over the other rooms, looking for something for her to put on. Not an easy task at all as she was much smaller than me. I would say that, in heels, she would come up to my shoulders; therefore, any dress of mine would have been almost comical on her, and very annoying to wear. In the end, I opted for a sweatshirt out of my high school days and tracksuit pants. Since she was taking longer than expected, to quell the sense of anxiety I felt, I decided the best choice would be to make something to drink. Given the cold air that was blowing that evening, I opted for a cup of hot chocolate, hoping Lily would like it too. I was proud of my hot chocolate. On cold winter afternoons I used to make it, so I am not ashamed to say that I had become a pro. By dint of trial and error I had found the perfect amounts of milk and cocoa, the right amount of thickener to make it creamy and pleasant in texture, and managed to balance the sugar to make it sweet but not too much. I began that dance behind the stove, whose steps I knew by heart, until I heard a door open behind me, and saw a girl approaching, barefoot and her hair still slightly wet. Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. As a good host, I made her sit on the couch, in front of the steaming mug of chocolate resting on a wicker coaster. She sat down near the right armrest of the sofa, with her knees together and her feet apart, making herself small. She leaned forward slightly, picked up the hot cup with both hands, and began to sip slowly. I tried to lift the cup as well, but had to give up because I felt the sensation of burning my fingertips. I began to expose all the doubts I could no longer keep inside, hoping for a reasonable answer to put my mind at ease. He said looking up, as if searching for the answers written on the ceiling. Not only had I not gotten what I hoped for, now it was my turn to explain instead. I began in a somewhat annoyed tone: I saw her smile begin to falter, as if the mask she was wearing was beginning to crumble. Before I could even finish speaking, my body reacted as if it had stepped on a landmine, so I stopped immediately. I was zapped by a look that I couldn''t quite decipher, but it looked like one from a predator watching its prey. She retorted, lowering her tone of voice, as if she were talking to herself. Then she continued, as if resigned to her fate, while with her right hand she lifted the strands of hair that covered her forehead: She squinted her eyes, stretching as far as she could, arching her back slightly and standing on tiptoe, in a movement that inadvertently had highlighted the curves of her body, despite the sweatshirt several sizes larger. I slowly approached her pale face, following her instructions, until I rested my forehead on hers, as if to check if she had a fever. The smell of my shampoo brushed my nostrils, mixed with a strong whiff of disinfectant. I felt a slightly disturbing sensation: my heat was spreading toward her, going away, but receiving nothing in return. It was not that different from making contact with any surface of wood or metal, rather than a living creature. I interrupted that unpleasant touch and saw her ice-blue eyes blossom like a flower in the night. However, they were made of glass; in fact, although our noses were only a few inches apart, I was not at all sure he was looking at me. As if to dismiss all doubt, she grabbed my arm, pressing my palm firmly against her sternum. This time she clutched my arm so tightly that I felt her nails piercing flesh. Her hands were red, burned by the boiling cup, but she seemed not to notice, too focused on something else. ¡°A monster,¡± something that should not exist, incompatible with the very definition of life. No doubt in my mind that was the right answer, yet I couldn''t bring myself to say it. I remained silent, looking at the girl-shaped creature in front of me. She said in a detached tone, passively accepting whatever would happen to her. In my heart I had always been aware of the truth, ever since I had first laid eyes on her. However, I had pretended not to see. She began to scream, tears wanted to come out but physically could not. She was angry and suspicious, but I preferred her like this compared to the little doll I always saw, only able to smile and nod. In some respects I felt incredibly similar to her. I told her, trying to replicate her fake smile to the best of my ability, to provoke her and spur the more twisted part of her personality to come out. She had no choice but to accept the proposal, because she had nowhere else to go even if she wanted to. So she turned her back on me as if she couldn''t stand my presence for another second and locked herself inside her new bedroom, slamming the door. I sat on the couch looking at his cup of hot chocolate still practically full, a little disappointed.