An Undead Boy

You're daydreaming...corpse.

I thought that if I ever saw her again, I'd be mad. Or too hurt to want to see her. Those last words have plagued me in my solitude until they almost drove me insane but I'm not mad or upset, quite the opposite.

Danielle is in the middle of my room, like a torch in the darkness even though I am the one beneath the glaring light bulb. I don't know what to do or what to say so as ridiculous as I know it will sound, I say the first thing that comes into my head.

"If I could breathe, you'd leave me breathless."

She is stunned for a second before bursting into peals of quiet laughter.

"That was a really awful line."

"I know but it doesn't make it any less true. How did you get in?" I ask, avoiding the major question that is on the tip of my tongue because I'm petrified she is going to leave again. I can feel it growing though, the elephant in the room.

She reaches over to push my bedroom door shut with her fingertips before turning back to me, illuminated from the glow in the bathroom. I realise that this is the first time she has seen my room and I'm glad I cleaned up before she arrived.

"I tried the door and it was unlocked. It was risky but I thought it was worth it. I didn't hear your mother so I just ran up the stairs as quietly as I could."

I chuckle, slipping into the comfortable Charlie, the one who doesn't make rash decisions. I don't know why she is here or what she wants but it's as easy as breathing being around her - or it would be. "Are you telling me you broke into my house?"

Even in the poor lighting, I can see the soft smile she is giving me.

"Where is your mum? Has she gone late night shopping or something?"

I don't know why she thinks that this is a topic worth pursuing but I obligingly answer her, anything to put off the inevitable confrontation.

"I don't know, she could be shopping - somewhere, at least. I haven't seen her in days."

Danielle looks as if she is going to cry or scream or throw up - maybe all three. She sways unsteadily on her feet and takes to staring around my room but not before I catch the flash of red in her face.

"You've been here, all this time? On your own? I've been waiting for you at school all week but the longer you didn't show, the more I became worried." she mumbles, bending low to look at a DVD on the floor by my bed.

I can't hold it in, I blurt out the word I've been trying to choke back since I saw her standing there.

"Why?"

I want to ask her it all; why were you waiting for me at school? Why were you worried when I didn't turn up? Why are you here? Why, why, why?

She looks at me now, eyebrows pulled up. "You mean you don't know? You've not been coming in to school on purpose? Because of me, because of what I said?"

I nod at the tiles on my bathroom wall, unable to meet her gaze.

"Oh Charlie! I had to say those awful things - don't you see? I'm sorry about everything that happened with my family but I can't even tell you how - how shitty I feel for saying such horrible things to you. I had to lie though, they were never going to let you go otherwise. You know that, right? I had to be convincing."

I can't tell her that I didn't know that. I can't tell her about the terrible thoughts I was just thinking when I thought I was alone in the world; she would never forgive me if she knew.

I can't tell her the truth so I don't say anything at all.

She takes this as a bad sign though and rushes to me, stopping an arms length away. Up close, her eyes are shining and I know she's struggling to hold herself back. She looks exhausted - as exhausted as I feel.

"I promise, I would never abandon you. You're my - my best friend. Can you believe it's been eight months? How could I leave you after all that time? How could I leave without celebrating your birthday with you this year? There's still so much we can do."

She's closer than I thought she was. Somehow she's managed to move without me noticing, which I think is an incredible feat considering I notice everything that Danielle does.

"Please. Charlie, just let me. Just this once." she pleads, her fingers curling around the back of my neck and suddenly, I know what she wants.

I should push her away, tell her to leave. I'm screwing up her life like I screwed up my own. But I should say that I love her and that my second life has been made bearable because of her, that she ties me to the rest of the world through her selflessness and genuine concern for me. That I'm very nearly no longer a shadow of myself anymore; I'm nearly me again.

I suck in a rattling breath, not knowing what to do. I tingle where her skin meets mine, the sheer heat of it burning me up. I've never been this warm since I died and I want to press myself into her just to feel it more. My hands find their way up to her face and I clutch her like she's the most precious thing in the universe - because to me, she is.

"Will you let me?" she asks again, the toes of her shoes nudge against mine, those eyes peering up at me from beneath her lashes. A stray eyelash has fallen onto her cheek and I brush it away with my thumb.

My defense is crumbling. When I made my decision earlier, I thought I would never see her again - her inquisitive eyes, that silvery hair. All that talk about giving her a chance at her own life, all the determination to protect her from myself and nearly ruining everything, it all comes to nothing because I can feel the sparks coming from her fingers on my neck, her breath on my face, her knees bumping into mine.

"Okay." This lone word carries a gargantuan weight; all those moments stolen in the library, that night when she was under the tree outside my house after Christmas and I gave her the box of notes, the near-kiss in her room on her birthday - it's like every emotion in and between has been condensed into those two simple syllables and I almost buckle from being relieved of its heaviness.

Neither of us move as we let the word sink in, feeling it's presence and knowing that this time, something is going to happen and it's too late for either of us to jump ship.

And then, so quickly that Danielle can scarcely draw breath, I'm stooping my head low to reach her as she stands up on her tiptoes to get to me, her fingers clawing the collar of my shirt, supporting herself. I don't know what I expect from this kiss but all I care about is the way her lips are soft against mine and the fact her heart is beating strong enough for the both of us. It reverberates inside my hollow chest, shaking me from the inside out. I pull her closer and we stumble a little, my hand moving away from her face so that I can wind an arm around her waist.

When we break apart, I feel so light that I think I'm hovering.

I bury my face into her neck. We must look absurd, my lanky frame hanging over her tiny one with my back curled awkwardly and my legs bent at odd angles. It's peaceful until something dreadful punctuates the moment, the kick in my stomach that alerts the human inside this dead body that something is wrong.

The hunger that I didn't want to feel again.

I'm unprepared, the ability to defend myself gone. In the smallest second, I'm untamed and the smell rolling from Danielle's neck is too much to bear. Without thinking, without trying, I bite down on the flesh and revel in letting my restraints go unchecked, for swiping away any inhibitions. This is what I need.

The whimper makes me falter, as thin and stretched as it is. It hits something in my core, pulls my self back into the universe. Whatever beast is inside me evaporates, leaving me with the consequences of its actions. With a conscience reinstalled, I shove Danielle away from me and she stumbles, nearly falling to the floor.

I want to tell myself that I didn't just do that but the warm liquid dribbling down my chin allows me no such luxury; it is Danielle's blood smearing my face. I tear my shirt off and spit what blood I can into it, scrubbing hard at my mouth, and launch it across the room so hard but it flops pathetically off the wall and onto the floor behind my desk.

"I - "

I can't speak. Danielle is shaking so violently from head to foot, her hand pressed down hard over the bite. Blood is trickling through her fingers and my vision blurs, as if I'm about to faint. It's just like my nightmare. Her blood on my face. How did this happen? I was kissing her a second ago.

Without thinking, my mind numb, I go over to my wardrobe and collect another shirt. I don't put it on though; instead, I wad it up and approach Danielle, walking slow and as reassuringly as I can. I know that I'm treating her like a rabbit trapped in a corner but I'm terrified she'll dart for the door if I make any sudden movements. She can't leave me - not now.

"Here - move your hand. You can use this to staunch it." I tell her, feeling sick just saying it. I can't stand to look when her hand hesitantly falls away from her neck, I just press the material against the gore and hope that this is all some twisted dream.

"Please don't - please, sit down."

I was going to say 'please don't hate me' but I've hardly earned that right. She still isn't talking and I don't know if it's because she's going into shock or if she's repelled by me. As she turns toward the bed, tripping slightly over her own feet, I hastily rub my hands on my jeans, trying to get rid of the blood that's already starting to dry on my skin and under my nails.

It's an impossible chore, every fleck of it makes me want to shudder but Danielle's tiny voice halts me in my task.

"Charlie - "

She's watching me from the bed, calling me over. I don't know how she can stand to be so close to me but I do as she wants anyway, walking in a dream state over to the bed and crouching down in front of her. I gulp as I stare at her knees.

"It's not that - "

I shut my eyes and shake my head miserably, groaning slightly.

"Don't you dare say it's not that bad, Danielle. This is as bad as it gets."

"You're being hard on yourself."

I laugh darkly at that. I don't think I'm being hard enough on myself. I should jump out the window, plunge a knife through my head, swim out to sea and never come back.

There's a pressure against my skin and I look down. Her bloody hand is flat against my bare chest, over where my heart should be pumping. The touch is so gentle that shame pulses through me but I don't stop myself from pressing my own hand over hers.

"Matching bloodstains. I think harshly.

"Don't be an idiot. Look at you, beating yourself up. I'm fine, I mean it. I wouldn't be saying it if it weren't true. It's just a little blood."

"How can you say that? How can you say that you're fine!?" I cry, my voice getting louder with each word. "That it's just blood? I DID THAT TO YOU!"

"Because I'm more worried about you."

I press my face against her knees, feel her hand brush my hair to smooth it down. My fingers knot in the bedsheets and it's all I can do not to scream because she's acting as if nothing has happened, which makes it all the worse.

"Oh God. Oh God - "

"Charlie, stop. Please. This was a mistake, that's all. I trust you."

I gasp into her jeans - sobbing, I realise - and shake my head from side to side. I don't trust myself, not anymore...not ever. But I ask her one thing amidst all of the crying and choking even though I shouldn't because I'm afraid.

"Please don't go. Please stay - " I croak, clutching at her waist with my bloodied hands.

She shushes and murmurs to me, years above her age, promising me in a voice so steady and so sure.

"Of course. I'll stay, Charlie. I'll stay."