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Zane Norrison · (04-08-2019)

Alone. In the darkness. I was terrified. With only my rapid heartbeat and sporadic, labored breathing to keep me company. That and four walls, a cot and the fucking intravenous machine. My mind was reeling at this point, nothing made sense. Who were these people and what were their intentions? I had no way of knowing. What did they do to me? Why did they take me prisoner? Did I do something to these people? Wrong them in some way or form? This couldn't be an arbitrary decision, what type of sick freaks would casually pluck some random guy off the street and do this?

The people looked so normal too. Clean cut and ordinary. Dressed neatly, not a single hair out of place, with nary a wrinkle on their clothes. What would possess these types of individuals to do this sort of thing? Perhaps that was the point, the most normal, average people keep the worst demons hidden away. Serial killers do it all the time. That was the first instant that my mind registered the fact that I might die. Trapped in that cell. No one knew where I was or what happened, not even the people that I supplied to and even though I came through for them, I wasn't stupid enough to think they'd form a search party for me or even care that I went missing. I wasn't a friend or someone truly important, all I was was a means to get high. That's a tough realization to have, in the situation that I was in, it was earth shattering. If I died in that moment, no one would care.

Gazing over at the IV machine, I noticed that the bag of unknown fluid was empty. Still I tore the needle from my arm and kicked the machine over for good measure. Almost as if on cue, right when the machine crashed to the floor, the need to retch hit me again, much more intense than before it brought the stomach shredding agony with it. I dropped forward, off of the cot, landing on my hands and knees. Uncontrollably projectile vomiting. A steady stream of black sludge, splattered against the floor. Like my name was Regan MacNeil and I was possessed by satan. All I needed was two priests proclaiming... "The Power of Christ compels you!"

Although, I must admit at that moment, even without that humorous additive, I did feel as though some unholy element got a hold of me. Like the devil himself, clutched me tight in his grasp. Then again it isn't that strange for a person that's puking black tar like their body turned into a fire hydrant, forcefully shooting water out onto the street, to have that perception. It was both revolting and like a scene straight out of a horror flick, except this was real life. This occurred till nothing more came out, yet even with that being the case, I stayed hunched forward on my hands and knees, my body still trying to push something forth, kind of like a cat did when it attempted to dislodge a hairball. While the intense pain from my stomach spread through my entire body.

It only got worse, when each of my limbs became stiff and contorted tightly to my body. The muscles clenched and twisted, almost in the way severe atrophy takes over. To the point where I could no longer hold myself up and I toppled over. While this was gross, considering the fact that I landed in my own puke. That fell short to the feeling of my lungs restricting as my heart spasmed erratically in my chest. The ache was unbearable and the only thing that I could match the description to, is having several major heart attacks, at the same time. At one point, I swore it seemed like my heart was going to burst, just straight up explode. Culminating with one final, lone thud, that seemed to echo endlessly within and then, there was nothing more. All at once, it was as if everything stopped. Silence filled the room, I lay crumpled in a heap on the floor as darkness washed over me, cold and motionless.

Once again my memory became restricted. At the exact second when everything ceased, the proverbial recording of my mind went with it. Sort of. At the beginning, I wouldn't comprehend what happened next, not completely. Not a hundred percent in the way one might remember their daily activities or even as a drunk person would recall the night before, this was more akin to sensations and instinct. Where you don't have certain proof but you know something happened, you can just feel it. That's how I perceived things, when the darkness lifted from my mind and I found myself standing under an overpass. With zero real memories of how I got there, I soon realized that I was covered in blood and bits of gore. Human gore. My fists also had fragments of bone embedded into them. Despite being unaware of what I did, I knew it had to be terrible. On the bright side, I felt no pain.

Alas, that wasn't a joy that would last, for not long after that, I obtained the understanding that I couldn't feel much of anything. At all. Desperately, I placed my hand on my chest in search of a heartbeat, to no avail. I wasn't breathing either; however, it wasn't like I was holding my breath. My body simply didn't draw any air inward and the result of that wasn't similar to suffocating or having the impending need to immediately breathe. Nothing happened, I merely stood there, completely unaffected. With both impossibilities to discover about oneself taking place at the same time, I started to lose my faculties, right there in the middle of the street. Not good when it's also taken into consideration that I was covered in blood. A blaring car horn pulled me back to the realization of the situation. It zoomed past me and down the road, disappearing in the distance. I knew that I had to get out of there fast, there was no way that a man verging on a mental break, coated in blood and pieces of human innards, wouldn't attract attention. Somehow I made it all the way home without being stopped or questioned though. Still have no idea how I pulled that one off but I did.

The following days were a nightmare. I hid from the world and refused to leave my apartment. Scared of everything, including myself, I convinced myself that I lost my mind. That was what I told myself because rationally speaking, it is what made the most sense. Except every time I looked in the mirror, a strange monster gazed back at me. Pale white, like a ghost with vacant, cold, dead eyes that weren't mine anymore. They stared right through me. Unblinking. From that moment forth, I avoided my reflection like the plague. Huddled on my living room sofa, while the news told me the story of what happened.

The news would state that a vicious beast ripped through a medical school, tearing apart four students in its onslaught. It was relayed that they were found with their skulls smashed open and each of their brains removed, all traces of what once existed within... gone. Something cracked open four skulls, like they were coconuts and took the brains. When they showed pictures of the four students, I recognized two of them from the makeshift cell that I had been confined within and shuddered at the thought of what I did.

Even if I wanted to be naive, I couldn't deny the evidence. As an investigation ensued and the search for a creature took place, I knew that I was responsible. In spite of having no memory, I knew deep down that I did it. The deeds that went down weren't committed by an animal... what kind of animal systematically crushed the skulls of its victims and scooped away the insides. No, the monster they searched for... was me, but what was I supposed to do with that information? Turn myself in? At best, I would have been institutionalized and what good would've that done? How could I know the outcome that might've ensued if I did that? What if I wound up putting more people in harm's way? These were the questions that bombarded my mind, each crashing like a tidal wave as I sat there horrified.

Much to my dismay, that was the precise moment, that an insatiable hunger hit me. Unlike any craving that I had before, it pulled at my thoughts and possessed them. Quickly it became the only thing that I could think about. Feeding the need. Like an addict. But what my body was desperately aching for, I couldn't supply. Not with good conscience. Every part of me screamed for brains. I knew it and the longer I denied the desire, the stronger it became. Now, without a shadow of a doubt, I knew I not only killed four medical students but I also extracted their brains in the crudest way imaginable and ate them. That understanding appalled me to my very core, especially since every fiber of my being ordered me to do it again. There had to be a solution to my dilemma, that didn't involve murder. The medical school, that was the answer, they had to have a spare cadaver laying around. It's how students were taught the basic dynamics of the human body, you know... before they were shuffled off to take care of the living.

Not thinking clearly, I traveled to the very medical school where I had previously escaped. Surprised by the total lack of security, given what recently happened, that didn't stop me from breaking in via a window and entering the building. The darkened halls caused me to shiver as violent images, flashed through my mind. I was ripped apart by ghosts. Visions of what I did and how I did it. Similar to the moments before I blacked out, these pictures were projected in the same pattern of someone turning on and off a light in a room. They weren't clear memories, more like random highlighted photos that painted a grisly portrait of the truth and what occurred. Yet still I walked onward, venturing down corridors, till I discovered what I was after. A corpse, laid out and waiting for me. Within seconds my fist crashed through its skull, I pulled my hand away and stuffed a huge chunk of brain into my mouth. Repeating the process, till there was nothing left and all that remained was an empty cavity. The act left me sick and at the same time, extremely satisfied. Oh but this was not normal, I couldn't live like this, could I?

There wasn't time to ponder that thought for long before the door swung open. Standing there, wide eyed and startled, were medical students. A different group but med students just the same. The sight of them automatically kicked in the need to flee. It was a knee jerk reaction that sent me straight for the window, where I took a running leap. Existing on the third floor after my self-indulgent trek through the medical school, this was pretty much me falling to my doom, with only gravity right there to pull me chaotically toward the ground. To my amazement, I landed on my feet. Like a cat. The act left me awe struck and sort of stuck in place, for a little longer than it should have as I processed what happened. A shout broke me away from that decipherment and that's when I seen the medical students in hot pursuit. They must've taken the elevator. I didn't stick around to ask... no, I ran like my life depended on it. Which was a real possibility cause these students were packing heat. Since when do medical students arm themselves and chase after creatures? This was fucking reality, not an episode of Buffy The Vampire Slayer.

Panic stricken, I made a couple of bad turns and wound up facing a dead end. Perfection. I punched the wall and then turned back, only to be greeted by those damn meddling med school students. They spoke rapidly amongst themselves and I heard the words, experiments and Pulitzer Prize get tossed around. There was a fierce need burning within their eyes too. A hunger. These people resembled me, back when I was craving brains and doing my best to fight off the hunger. This of course was a battle that I failed but these individuals were out to take me with them... by force! I didn't want to hurt them but c'mon, they were presenting limited options for me to work with. What would take effect during these fear filled minutes, I could have never predicted.

I vanished. I quite literally disappeared and instantaneously, found myself rematerialized atop a roof. It was maddening and tugged even further on my already depleting sanity. One instant I was standing in an alley, staring at a group of medical students, then I wasn't. My feet were now, firmly planted on a rooftop, the wind howling around me as the sound the the city blared from the streets below. With a most peculiar gentleman stationed in front of me. He had long, flowing raven hair and eyes that burned with a touch of fire. The man appeared to be human and at the same time, something altogether different and when he spoke, his voice held the hint of an ancient accent, both mystic and unknown. It was a sound my ears never picked up before, scarcely something that I could ever imitate, not that I would even try. Deep and resounding, with a trace of laughter underlining each word, like he was the sole bearer of a punchline to a joke, that hadn't been told yet.

He called himself - Azrael Erebus, and freely admitted that he observed my plight that evening, with quite a bit of fascination. He was struck with the need to interject his aid, when things took a turn for the worse. Apparently he never encountered a zombie, like me before. One that avoided attacking the masses. I confessed that I didn't even know that I was a zombie. This was a comment that caused him to laugh, rather heartily. I ignored this amusement, telling him straight forward that I hadn't started out that way. To which he replied, no one ever does. Less entertained and seeming far more curious than anything else, he asked if I could explain, with proliferate compassion in his gaze.

Not wanting to have someone feel sorry for me after all the awful deeds that I committed, I continued my tale, starting at the beginning and sparing no detail, I explained everything that happened. Azrael listened intently, occasionally nodding as I spoke and when I finished, he smiled and stated that he knew exactly what to do. He said that I wasn't a monster, even if creating one was the base intent behind what initially occurred at the medical school and vowed that he would help me, to the furthest extent of his abilities. Even hook me up with a career that would supply exactly what I needed, without placing the public at the possible wrath of the internal monster that dwelt within. I would be set up with a job, working for a morgue in New York City. Relocation was part of the deal, a factor that I didn't mind, since this would put me far enough away from my family, where they didn't become suspicious of my new lifestyle, while still allowing me to be close enough to visit. The only catch was that he said in repayment for this act of kindness, I would owe him a favor. To be collected at any time, without restrictions or hesitations given on my part. Naturally, I accepted these terms, after all... what choice did I have?

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