I don't want to.

Shuffling the eyeballs between my fingers, I keep the matter moving. This way, it doesn't reform. I'd done this for so long I could do it in my sleep. And I did. Twice.

Lately, crushing the eyeballs has been getting harder and harder to do, and not just because I'm weakening. Just like how its' healing period for each shot grew less and less, I think the eyes are gaining a resistance to crushing.

Honestly, that's...terrifying. Eventually, they won't need to heal.

My bullets will just bounce off of them.

And even worse, what I really, don't want to do...

"I mean, it could be said to be a delicacy for cannibals...and really, who's going to judge me for taking just a nibble...? I know god won't, since I'm already damned. But dammit..."

I squeezed the eyes between my fingers.

"Why does it have to be so squishy..."

It's not cooked. But I can't get up and keep crushing these eyes at the same time. I don't want to think about what'll happen if I let the head reunite with the body.

"Well, there are worse things for your body...here goes."

Closing my eyes and tilting my head back, I shove the eye-matter in my mouth.

Vomit. Both the action I take, and what it tastes like. I immediately spit it up.

Now my whole chest is covered...dammit. Now what will I do?

I spent fifteen minutes idly twirling half-healed eyes around my fingers. I steal myself. I put them back in my mouth.

It's worse. The vomit had horrible, mutant babies with ghost peppers, and they grew up to be wonderful sewer cleaners. I gag a lot, but don't spit it up. Mostly cause' I don't have anything left in me. Then I bit down on the eyes.

Grapes. If grapes were made of shit.

I start pushing it inbetween my teeth, like how you do mouth wash. Oh Confucius, it's coating the inside of my mouth...I'll die...I won't ever not taste this...I don't wanna live anymore...

I grab the head by the hair, and place it over the bed-post. It instantly bites down, and gets a mouthful of wood. Heh heh, mouthful of wood...

Dammit, now's not the time for immaturity! Even if it's hilarious!

I awkwardly swing my right-leg over the edge of the bed. The creature has been clawing at the corner for two hours now, I think maybe it's tired. Or it's keeping its' claws sharp. When the head bit down, the body started swinging wildly, as if possessed. I guess, even though the brain is separated and definitely stupid, it still sends signals. Maybe brainwaves are like radio waves...?

I never paid any attention in school. I'm starting to regret that.

My left-leg...if you can call it a leg, is looking better. I had a fun time pushing the bone back in...

Ugh...I'm hurting just thinking about it. I don't ever wanna break a bone again. Or see one. Or smell one...I'm not a fan of bones. Well, I should be able to move with only...a lot of pain.

Dammit, sitting here thinking about it will only make it worse. Up we go!

"FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU

I could crawl more or less. Balancing with only two limbs wasn't fun. Luckily, my dislocated shoulder had healed up nicely. Not really injured in the first place, just out of the socket, but now it didn't hurt. That helped, since I could use my shoulder to stop my elbow from moving too much. Still hurt though.

And my leg...it keeps throbbing. If I had both hands it wouldn't be so bad, but having only one leg and one arm just makes things...very difficult. I have to make shortcuts and take the long way for things. But, first things first.

Food.

I wonder if the electricity is still up? I saw the street-lights go on at night, so maybe...? It's probably too much to hope for. I somehow got myself to the fridge, feeling like a deformed frog, and opened it up.

I expected rotten, spoiled, anything. But it was all just fine. Huh.

Well, for things like these, only one thing can restore your energy.

A little bit of eye started dribbling out of my mouth, so I quickly sucked it up. Oh Confucius help me...it seems to have reacted with the air and bred, becoming more repulsive. Fuck. If everything I eat tastes like this from now on...I'll seriously flip out.

I got a bowl, a box, and a spoon. I poured some milk, poured the cereal, then thought about what to do now.

If I put the eyes back in my hand, I can't pick up the spoon. If I can't hold the spoon, I can't eat the cereal.

Well, I could just doggy-style it, but I have my dignity.

Somewhere...a sword laughs.

Well...I wonder if those creatures can get dizzy?

I let the eye-balls form, then...ugh...use my tongue to tie the optic nerves together, putting a neat bow on it.

Never thought my cherry-tying skills would come in handy during the apocalypse.

I take it out of my mouth, and throw it at the fan. On my third try, I land them in my cereal.

...

I'll just pretend I didn't see that. I keep trying.

When I get it caught on a blade, I crawl to the switch. I can stand on one leg, as long as it's not for long. I turn on the fan.

Returning to my cereal, I eat. And silently, tears roll down my face.

"I'll never taste again..."

It's a good thing I heard the creature tripping and crashing around in the other room. I needed something to make me laugh.

Looks like they can get dizzy.

After finishing up, I crawl onto the couch, and go to sleep. Hopefully dizzy, head-less creatures can't open doors.

But, just in case, I loaded the revolver again.

---

It's been four days.

I'm all out of cereal.

...

It seems, for perfectly logical reasons, I'll have to move location. I've packed a back-pack with...ugh...food, and other essentials, just in case I get lost, and I have a crutch. I can sorta feel my arm again, but my leg is still a lost-cause. I won't use that until I'm sure my shin won't pop out again. But before I go...

I'm going to take a shower. Because I can. And because I'm covered in my own vomit and feces. I really wish I'd had a diaper for those two days...but, you can only cry over spilled milk for so long.

Looking in the mirror afterwards, I have to accept some things.

Namely, I look like a zombie. But more than that, that being a girl is disadvantageous in the apocalypse. Time for a change.

The hair went fast. It wasn't neat, but it was good enough. I had to resist the instinct to put my make-up on. A band around my chest was all it took, since I wasn't very naturally gifted, and putting on the cloths I found in the laundry. I didn't dare go into the bedroom, but fortunately the guy was doing-as I'm sure millions others-laundry, when the apocalypse hit.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

I had to roll it up a lot, but I think the bagginess helped the image. It's a good thing the guy wasn't super tall. Now all I need is...a hat!

All boys wear hats. But which one should I wear?

I instantly throw away the cowboy hat. It would help, but I wasn't about to put it on.

Baseball caps or this straw one. For a moment, I entertained the image of myself running around in it. Luckily it was only for a moment.

I put red and black one on, and, thinking that it would help, I turned it around. Good, now I look like...a fifteen-year-old boy dressed in his dads' cloths, trying to look like a gangster.

I corrected the hat.

Then, finally walking with a good leg and an improvised crutch, (A curtain is missing its' rod.) I set out. I opened the door...

And stepped out into hell.

---

A week.

That's how long it took until I could use my arm again. I shook it out, swung it around, and basically went nuts. My leg was still in a splint, but I could put a little weight on it in exchange for pain.

Still, I healed very fast. But I can't complain.

Now, for this past week, I've had some problems. Good thing I'm smart! (And have a gun)

After decapitating two more monsters, I found out that Just putting their eyes in a dark place will have the same effect as constantly crushing them.

That would have been good to know.

Still, I'm surprised I only ran into two of them. This is a suburban area, you'd think more people would be here. Either they all ate each other, or, they all moved someplace.

And that makes me very, very afraid.

Of course, it's not all bad news. I found another live person!

A middle-aged woman, who was hiding in her attic while her husband turned into a monster and killed their children. When she saw me, she smiled weirdly.

Then she pulled out a knife and stabbed herself. Several times.

...

...Item get: Used Knife!

But seriously, what did she think I'd do? I was smiling! And who just carries around a Bowie knife?

I was muttering, swinging around the knife, when I ran head-first into someone.

I looked up into murky sea-green eyes. "Oh. Hey."

I was in the middle of limping towards the cereal isle, and I wasn't really thinking. I didn't expect a handsome guy to just pop out from nowhere.

For a second, we just looked at each other. Then he backed up real fast, and took out a baseball bat.

Really, this isn't a zombie game. What do you think a piece of wood will do against something that can't be killed?

Well, it would probably do something against my skull. So I shouldn't antagonize him. I gave my best, I-come-in-peace smile, and put the knife in its' accompanying sheath in my belt. Sadly it had a couple bloodstains. It was really good leather too...

Damn, I must be cynical as hell if I'm thinking about the leather when that blood came from a woman who committed suicide. That, or I'm just desensitized already.

After chewing on eye-balls, I wouldn't be surprised if nothing gets a reaction out of me anymore.

Anyway, the guy hesitated with the bat. "Um...why did you put your knife away, when you're smiling like that?"

I frown. "Smiling like what? What the fuck is wrong with my smile!? You fucking bitch!"

He shrank down, and flinched. "Sorry! I'm sorry! It's just that, your face is covered in blood, and even while smiling you look like you just ate something bad!"

"...well, fuck me. That must be damn scary."

He eyed me. "Uh, yeah...do you...not feel it?"

I shook my head. "Nah, I feel it. Just, after you wash blood off of your face enough times, it just gets too troublesome, you know?"

He peed his pants. "R-real-l-ly...?"

I held up my hands. "It's okay! Not like I killed anybody! ...except those two...and maybe that one girl...ahem, I'm not a homicidal maniac, alright?"

I gave a big smile, to show my sincerity.

His eyes rolled up in his head, and he fell over. Damn, he really is a bitch if he just feinted from fright.

Still...I'm not complaining. His face is even better when he's sleeping...

...

...holy shit, I really am creepy, huh?

I limped to the cereal isle, got my supplies, and got some dried milk and bottled water. Not like I can carry more. I went back to the bitch, and poured some water on his face. He woke up spluttering.

"Scary-killer-guy-wha?!"

I give him a slap. A good, solid back-hand with my right hand. Oh, righty, how I've missed you~

"If you can't shut-up, I'll shut you up myself. Either way, you're going to listen to me, alright?"

He nodded. I gave him a smile. He whimpered.

I forged on ahead. "Alright, I'll tell you right now. You can't survive. How many of the creatures have you met up until now?"

"Uh, um, I haven't...I heard one..."

I face-palm him. "Wow. Well, even if you are useless, and a bitch, and not potty trained, I'm sure I can find a use for you. What do you say? Wanna team-up?"

"...can I refuse?"

I laugh and clap his back. "Haha! We'll be great teammates! Now, take this back-pack, I'll go get more. You just wait here..."

I start limping towards where I saw some back-packs. Now that there are two of us, I can carry twice as much!

But I also have to feed him...hm...meh, I only have to do that once a day, right? I'm sure I can manage.

While I'm limping away, he calls out. "Uh, w...what's your name?"

"Tiff-" I choked. I was about to say my name. He just nods.

"Tiff, huh? I'm Luke. I...hope you didn't do anything while I was unconscious."

"Nothing lasting."

I leave him fainted again, and go back to what I was doing. Although having an extra carrier was nice, I mostly did it for the company.

All this alone time has led me to have...very out-of-the-box ideas. I'm thinking I'd go insane, or at least develop a complex or two, if I don't have someone to talk to.

That, and I want to go to sleep without fear of waking up to claws around my throat. Even my dreams are of fighting the creatures. In my dreams, my body is whole.

At first.

Then it gets ripped and torn and bit and clawed, and all the time I'm screaming.

I have gotten sick of my own screams, so long have I listened to them. I need something...real, to hold onto, in this world that seems so nightmarish. I need something that tells me this is real, and that it can get better.

But I still think it'll just end up like my dreams foretell.

Broken, bloody, and in pieces.

But at least I'm not alone anymore.