"Well, well look who's finally home." I heard a familiar sounding voice say as I closed the front door behind me. A lamp is turned on in the corner of the small living room, revealing Mikey sitting cross-legged on the chair, clothed in his Star Wars pajamas, looking accusingly at me while he holds a plastic pipe in between his lips. Mikey raises his eyebrows, expecting an answer as I stand there in a frozen stance.

"None of your damn business, Skittles, now go back to bed. You need your beauty sleep." I say as I begin to quickly make my way to the steps before Mikey's voice stops me once again.

"Hey, hey not so fast Sugar Tits. I need answers. Now." He voices and stands up from the chair and awkwardly shuffles towards me. I remain still for a moment trying to think of what to say, I obviously can't tell him the truth. Oh nothing much Mikey, I just went to dig up the brains of my former algebra teacher since you know I'm a zombie, but don't worry I won't eat you. But before I could speak Mikey sighs and puts a hand on my shoulder.

"Look, Gee, I'm just worried about you. Ever since the 'incident' you've been, I don't know, aloof I guess. You haven't really been eating, you've just changed. I mean you look like a ghost and disappear at odd hours of the night, just please tell me what's going on, " Mikey pauses for effect and looks into my eyes, "You're my brother and I'm here for you."

I stand there dumbfounded, as Mikey pulls me into a bone-crushing hug, making me pray to every god and higher being in existence, maybe a few superheros too, that the brains in my jacket pocket don't seep through. "I love you, asshole." He whispers against my chest.

"Love you too, dicksnot, now please let me go before I die." I laugh as he finally releases me.

"I think you may already be dead, I could barley hear your heart beating." He jokes and I give him an awkward smile, if only he knew.

---

I sit on my unmade bed, looking into the cage of my pet guinea pig, Starburst, 20 minutes before school starts. I sigh and Starburst squeaks, staring at me with her big brown eyes. "I know Star, I know." I say, pretending like she can actually understand the English language.

I lift the Batman plastic baggie filled with Mr. Dickson's brain from my nightstand and shove it into my backpack. Figuring I could eat my lunch in the safety of the boy's bathroom. Wouldn't be the first and it won't be the last.

I stand and look into the body-length mirror on my poster-covered wall, gazing upon my ghostly reflection. My hair is cut short and is permanently stained a white-blond color, my skin is deathly pale and the bite mark that was inflicted upon my lower arm so many nights ago, is now gone. To be honest I look like a corpse especially with the black clothing that hides my barley-beating heart. One day it will no longer beat at all, and when that happens what will I become? Just another decaying body that will stay beneath the ground? Or something else? A monster that only wants human flesh? I push the thoughts out of my head and grab my backpack, heading downstairs.

A car horn beeps outside of my window, alerting me to Meg's presence. Over the past month, I have slowly made my first and only friend, Meg White. A black-haired, ponytail bearing smart ass who likes to beat on drum sets when shes not beating on assholes at school. I first came in contact with her when I was pinned against a set of lockers by three egotistical jocks who looked and acted like they came straight out of a typical teen movie. She saved me from being shoved into a locker by calling one jock an 'asshat' and threatened another by saying that she would 'stitch his face to his friend's ass and make them all into a human caterpillar.' She would never actually hurt someone but she certainly likes talking about it. Her comments scared them off and ever since we've been inseparable, turns out we have a lot of the same interests, except eating brains of course.

"Hey my little Geebear, you ready to enter Hell?" Meg speaks as I jump into her father's rustic crimson Mustang, that she nicknamed Stella.

"I'm always ready." I say as she turns on the radio, blasting Paint It Black by The Rolling Stones, and begins to back out of my driveway. Little did I know that awaiting at the gates of hell is the boy who will make my heart beat faster than it ever has.

Notes