Better Off Dead

Chapter One: Welcome to My World

Of all the ways you can start your day, this wasn't going to end up on the cover of a magazine with sunshine and puppies.

"Face me like a man, demon." This coming from the guy who was stepping on my head, therefore making it impossible to fulfill his oh so polite request. The whole thing was pretty cheesy. Later on I found that amusing, but not at the time. That sort of thing is never funny at the time.

I had tried to explain to this guy that I was completely human and not a zombie, but it's hard to be a very convincing orator when you can't keep your face off the pavement. And your right limbs are basically meat tentacles. And 40% of your body is a skinless, dripping chunk of raw steak. 'Human' is a pretty tough sell.

He put his foot under my chin and lifted it up until we were looking at each other. "And after what you did. Just a guy trying to protect himself, right?"

Actually, wrong. I'm a twenty five year old girl. But it's an easy mistake. My visage makes Two Face look like the lead of a boy band. I don't exactly look feminine. Can you imagine an extra gory zombie dressed up like Tinkerbell? My mental instability would be more terrifying than my lack of a face.

"A man doesn't break someone's bones like that. A man is not what you are, and everyone knows it." He lifted my head higher with his foot and gestured to the street.

Yeah, buddy, we get it with the incorrect pronouns. But even ignoring that glaring error, he was right. And everyone else did know it. Some people walked by, but they were more relieved by my being incapacitated than empathetic to my situation. If someone pins down an escaped mountain lion, you don't call the ASPCA on their ass.

I wanted to have some retort. But, technically, I had caused grievous physical harm to someone and everyone was understandably afraid of me. Not to mention that I look like I eat babies for breakfast. Which I don't. I have a strictly infant-free diet.

Still, things like 'violence begets violence', the classic 'he started it', and the more on the nose 'well what do you expect he tried to murder me with a hammer' all came to mind. Not that polite conversation had helped me much up to that point. My experience was that physical altercations continued until someone stopped moving.

Which was seriously tempting. I mean, with absolutely no effort I could have grabbed the foot in front of me and crushed it with my gory octopus arm. But it had also been my experience that dispatching someone in that way led to larger issues. So I wouldn't, but I gave his foot a good stare and thought about all the little crunches Ic ould cause if I wanted to. But I was totally above that kind of thing. Really. I was.

Maybe just a toe. Just a tiny bit. No one really needs an unbroken toe, right?

He yelled, took out a pocketknife I hadn't noticed, and stabbed me in the neck before hobbling off. I really hate when that happens. Being stabbed in the neck is so unpleasant, and pocketknives are not as sharp as you expect them to be.

Whatever. I pulled it out and the flesh mended itself. Being stabbed does nothing for me. But I had a collection of pocket knives from such occasions, so... that totally makes up for how terrible it is, right?

This sucked. I was just trying to pack up my things so I could get the Hell out of that place since, you know, people knew where I lived and some of them weren't exactly happy with me. Where was I going to go? Great question. I hadn't thought that part out.

What was I going to take with me? Also a good question without an answer. And exactly how was I going to make it happen? Would you believe me if I told you that once again I hadn't thought that through?