I hear a knock on my bedroom door, and for a second, it catches me off guard. I glance over and call out, "Yeah?"
"Can I come in?" Millie asks from the other side, her voice sounding a bit anxious.
"Go for it," I say, trying to sound chill, even though I'm not really feeling it.
She swings the door open and steps inside, but as soon as she sees me, her face changes completely.
"You look... dead," she says bluntly. "Like you just crawled out of a grave or something…"
Her words hit me like a punch in the gut. I toss off the blanket and rush over to the mirror above my dresser, my chest tightens. But when I look into it, I don't see anything—just empty space staring back at me. It sends a shiver down my spine as panic takes hold.
"What's going on?" I yell.
Millie walks over and stares into the mirror next to me. Her face drops, mirroring my shock.
"Oh my god…" she breathes out.
She turns to me, eyes wide. "Okay, your skin is this weird gray with a yellow tint. Your lips are cracked—like, seriously peeling. And your eyes? They're all red with dark gray circles. Eden… you have to be dead."
My fingers shake as I touch my face. My skin feels… off. Cold. Heavy. Like clay that's been sitting out too long.
"Just a thought," Millie says, digging into her hoodie pocket, "Try this chocolate." She hands me a 50p chocolate bar.
I look at it. "Seriously?" I glance at her, confused, but I unwrap it and take a bite anyway.
She grabs the bin from across the room and sets it right in front of me on the bed without saying anything.
"What's that for?" I ask.
"Just wait," she says.
A second later, I'm bent over it, throwing up violently.
Blood. Again.
"What's going on!?" I gasp, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.
"Looks like your body's rejecting food," Millie says, crouching beside me.
"This isn't some fiction crap, Millie! I'm vomiting blood and I look like a damn zombie!" I snap.
She doesn't argue. Instead, she leaves the room without another word. I frown and stare at the chocolate bar still clutched in my hand, now covered in streaks of red.
The door slams open again. Millie rushes in with a journal clutched in both hands and leaps onto the bed beside me.
"Is that mum's journal?" I ask.
"Yeah. I remember reading some really messed up stuff in it. Maybe it links to... whatever this is."
I don't reply. My eyes flicker down to the open page—satanic symbols, strange diagrams, dark scribbles. She isn't wrong. This is seriously messed up.
"If I can't eat normal food, what can I eat?" I ask quietly.
"If you're like... an actual zombie or something... I've got an idea. One minute." She bolts from the room again.
I stare at the journal in her wake. The pages are worn, like someone flipped through them a thousand times. The ink looks like it was pressed in desperation.
She comes back in, nudging the door shut with her foot, carrying a plate in both hands.
"Try these," she says.
She sets the plate down in front of me. Three raw pieces of steak, blood glistening under the bedroom light, dripping onto the ceramic plate.
My stomach churns. "Ew."
"Just try it!" she insists, gesturing at the plate.
I hesitantly reach out, pick up the first piece. Blood runs down my fingers. I close my eyes and bite into it.
It's... not as bad as I thought. Metallic, but oddly satisfying.
I finish the first, then the second, then the third. By the time I'm done, my hands are covered in blood. I look up at Millie. She stares at me, stunned. "I was right. Your body won't accept human food because... you're dead."
She grabs my wrist and feels for a pulse. Then leans in, pressing her ear to my chest.
Nothing.
She straightens up, grinning. "This is so cool!"
"Not cool. What even am I?"
"A real zombie!" she says, beaming.
I shake my head and get off the bed. I yank the towel from the end of it and start wiping the blood from my hands and face. This makes no sense. I'm dead but still walking around. No reflection, like a vampire. But I eat meat like a wild animal. We need answers.
"We need to search the journal," I say.
Millie props it on her lap and flips through to the diary entries. I lean over her shoulder, reading.
Diary Entry 1 – The Day I Cannot Forget:
I gave birth to my son Eden at 5:28 AM.
I receive the news that he was born sleeping; I am broken. I cannot live without him. I need him.
Diary Entry 2 – Deal Day:
I have made a deal to trade my life for his.
When he turns 18, I will meet my fate. He is alive. Breathing. Crying. I'm in love. I've done this for you, baby boy. You need to live your life.
Millie and I stare at the pages in silence. She made a deal. With Satan himself, no doubt. But she must not have known the catch. The catch being... I die after she does—but not fully.
"She cursed me... just to keep me," I mumble, sinking back onto the bed.
"It broke her, Eden. You were her everything—her only thing," Millie says softly.
I shake my head in disbelief. "So because of her... I'm dead. That's just great."
I walk over to my wardrobe and yank it open.
"What are you doing?" Millie asks, standing.
"Going to work. Do more digging and let me know what you find." I pull my uniform off the hangers and get changed quickly.
I grab my gloves from the bedside table and shove them in my pocket. I glance back at Millie and give her a faint smile. Then I head downstairs, throw open the front door, and jog across the road to the bus stop.